WB, here is your next hunt. Taken about

years ago. No handguns allowed so I brought a Winchester 30-30 and my bow. One of the guys that came with me had brought a shotgun and as the guide said if we get a shot it will probably be a bit long for a shotgun so I had loaned my 30-30 to him. The bears were not plentiful so after 3 days of sitting on a little 15" square piece of wood about 30 feet in the air (my guide's tree stand) I gave it up. We also had about a 35 to 40 mph wind and sprinkling rain that kept everything bedded down so it was a miserable 3 days. I figured if I was smart I could be bedded down at the lodge.

That evening after dinner the guide asked me if I wanted to do a Canadian varmint hunt. Now this sounded like one of those snipe hunt I have fallen for in the past. He said being I didn't even get a shot at a bear how about a special hunt. The plot thickens. I mentioned that I only had the 30-30 and had loaned it to one of the other hunters. He smiled and said for me to hold on. He went in the next room and brought out a box that I am sure I will regret asking him what's in the box. But he surprised me as inside the box was a 6" S&W 44 Mag and almost a full box of ammo, the old blue and white box of 44 mag ammo.. He smiled and said here is your "rifle". He said let's go for a ride. He took me to the local garbage dump. As we passed a sign saying "Garbage dump 200 yards" I knew I should have slipped one of the kitchen knives up my sleeve. As we topped a small rise looking down on the dump, our head lights shined across the dump and there in front of us were eyes. It looked like eyes as far as you could see, hundreds of them. I asked him if they were bears eyes. He said no, but even better, cat's eyes. He said we would come back in the morning.
When we got back to the lodge I mentioned my cat hunt the next day to the other hunters and if they were interested. One wanted to continue looking for a bear and the other hunter said he couldn't do that and if he ever shot a cat and his wife found out about it he would never hear the last of it. Pussy.
Now these aren't your normal "barn cat" that keeps the mice at bay, nor your kitty that your daughter has. These were mangy, stinking, feral full grown cats that live in the garbage dump. The next morning he dropped me off at the dump with my bow and 6 arrows and his 44 mag and said have fun. I'll be back about noon. Now if a stranger dropped you off at a dump and said he would be back later, you would believe that right?
AS I started walking toward the edge of the dump cats scattered in every direction. There was the hood of a truck about 20 feet from me so I figured that was a good place to start. I kicked the old hood and cats scattered in every direction. There must have been a dozen of them under there. I had almost a full box of ammo and 6 arrows so I started with my bow shooting feral cats. They were not scared of me and if they ran it was only 10 or 15 feet before they stopped and snarled at me. Some of these feral cats had to weigh 15 to 20 pounds. I started with the bow and those 6 arrows didn't last long. One big yellow tom ran to an old stump maybe 20 feet from me where he turned and snarled and hissed at me like he was daring me to come a bit closer. I am not the best shot with a bow but I already had an arrow nocked and was ready for him. In fact the guide looked me oddly when I nocked an arrow as soon as I got in the truck.

As big as that old tom was I had nothing to lose. I hit him center chest. He hissed and simply walked off. I yelled at him to keep the arrow.
Once or twice when I spooked a bunch of cats, some ran at me rather than away from me. Now I am a full grown man and am not afraid of a feral cat even though a couple of them bared their fangs at me and I am sure I heard a growl among the hissing. For a moment there I was looking for a tree. It just seemed like the thing to do. Before they got closer to me I gave out a yell. Not a squeal but a manly yell. Admittedly there for a moment my manly yell was more like a manly scared shitless yell but it spooked them and they changed direction. And now that they changed direction I was sure I had them on the run, except at about 50 feet they were all in a huddle. It was like Monday Night Football except for the growling. .

I had used up all my arrows pretty quick and thank the Lord it was 44 mag time. As I walked around the edge of the dump cats continued to come out of every brush pile and things like Hillary Clinton for president signs.. I guess word got out that there had to be 25 or 30 cats within 50 feet at any one time so it wasn't hard to find a target. I limited my shooting to old mangy cats or actually any cat that got to within 10 feet of me and there were plenty of them. At one time while I was reloading the 44 to take a shot at the Hillary poster I tried to count the cats within 25 or 30 feet but I kept losing count as the cats moved constantly. They weren't afraid of me as people dumped garbage there probably every day or so.
The guide told me not to try to get my arrows back as the cats were known to have all kinds of diseases. I told him not to worry about that. I didn't get my bear nor even get a shot as they just weren't moving much. But my cat hunt turned out to be a special hunt.
It is funny how one of my favorite hunts that started out being a bear hunt in Canada ended up being a cat hunt and my Australian Water Buffalo hunt ended up being a varmint hunt with large feral donkeys. But that is another story.