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Aloha, Mark
 
Finally we have an answer to this thread!!!


Cue the "yea but if it was X caliber handgun he wouldn't have needed the rifle..." :p
Obviously if it was the lung blower outer the cat would have been dead at his feet!!! Cats are pretty amazing animals.....I've seen some crazy stuff under the tree, 270cal heart shots where they go 100 yards! #4 12ga buck to the face at 20 yards and they go aways....never underestimate a big cat in thick brush. Definitely had multiple close calls myself
 
Obviously if it was the lung blower outer the cat would have been dead at his feet!!! Cats are pretty amazing animals.....I've seen some crazy stuff under the tree, 270cal heart shots where they go 100 yards! #4 12ga buck to the face at 20 yards and they go aways....never underestimate a big cat in thick brush. Definitely had multiple close calls myself
Well, partner, gather 'round the campfire and I'll spin you a tale of the wilder days, when I was out huntin' in them woods. It was a crisp, moonlit night, and the stars were a-shinin' like diamonds in the sky. I was deep in the heart of the wilderness, trackin' a buck that was slicker than a greased pig in a mud pit.

I'd been in these woods for days, just me and my trusty rifle. But little did I know, I wasn't the only one on the prowl that night. That's when I heard it, a rustlin' in the brush so quiet it'd make a church mouse sound like a stampede. I knew somethin' wasn't right.

Then, out of the shadows, there she was, a mountain lion, sleek and silent as death. Her eyes were like twin lanterns in the night, and I could see the hunger burnin' deep within 'em. My heart pounded like a blacksmith's hammer, and I knew I had to think fast.

You see, in my wanderin's, I'd come across a wise old shaman from the nearby Umpqua tribe, and he'd taught me a word, a word said to hold the power of the spirits, a secret Indian word, as you put it. So, with that mountain lion fixin' to make a meal out of me, I dug deep into my memory and whispered that sacred word into the night.

As them ancient syllables passed my lips, somethin' mighty strange happened. The lion, her eyes locked on mine, took a step back, fear flashin' in her eyes. She let out a low growl, but that growl turned into a whimper, and before I knew it, she'd turned tail and high-tailed it outta there faster than a jackrabbit on a hot skillet.

I reckon that secret Indian word had some powerful mojo to it, 'cause that mountain lion never bothered me again. From that day on, I had a newfound respect for the ways of them indigenous folks and their ancient knowledge. And that, my friend, is the story of how I stared down a mountain lion in them woods and lived to tell the tale.

- ChatGPT
 
Well, partner, gather 'round the campfire and I'll spin you a tale of the wilder days, when I was out huntin' in them woods. It was a crisp, moonlit night, and the stars were a-shinin' like diamonds in the sky. I was deep in the heart of the wilderness, trackin' a buck that was slicker than a greased pig in a mud pit.

I'd been in these woods for days, just me and my trusty rifle. But little did I know, I wasn't the only one on the prowl that night. That's when I heard it, a rustlin' in the brush so quiet it'd make a church mouse sound like a stampede. I knew somethin' wasn't right.

Then, out of the shadows, there she was, a mountain lion, sleek and silent as death. Her eyes were like twin lanterns in the night, and I could see the hunger burnin' deep within 'em. My heart pounded like a blacksmith's hammer, and I knew I had to think fast.

You see, in my wanderin's, I'd come across a wise old shaman from the nearby Umpqua tribe, and he'd taught me a word, a word said to hold the power of the spirits, a secret Indian word, as you put it. So, with that mountain lion fixin' to make a meal out of me, I dug deep into my memory and whispered that sacred word into the night.

As them ancient syllables passed my lips, somethin' mighty strange happened. The lion, her eyes locked on mine, took a step back, fear flashin' in her eyes. She let out a low growl, but that growl turned into a whimper, and before I knew it, she'd turned tail and high-tailed it outta there faster than a jackrabbit on a hot skillet.

I reckon that secret Indian word had some powerful mojo to it, 'cause that mountain lion never bothered me again. From that day on, I had a newfound respect for the ways of them indigenous folks and their ancient knowledge. And that, my friend, is the story of how I stared down a mountain lion in them woods and lived to tell the tale.

- ChatGPT
I just kill a pile of cats.....good story!
 

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