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132 • S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S At 12, Keni aced hunter safety and finally hit the field with a wad of big game tags in her pocket. During that year and for the next two, nothing big enough crossed her path. At 15 she made up for it and then some. We went to Africa that summer, saddling PH Jamy Traut with our high expectations. Keni shot her first big game animal early in the safari, a spectacular 58-inch kudu. She also accounted for zebra, blue wildebeest, springbok, and a warthog. Back in Montana that fall, she took a great whitetail buck and a big 6x6 bull elk on opening morning. Over the subsequent years more successful hunts have given her a pretty good start on her own trophy room. N ow all grown up, more or less anyway, Keni still isn't one to change her made-up mind. Whatever the reasons, moose and cougar are the species she most wants to hunt, and it's been that way ever since I can remember. Of course, moose are a tough draw everywhere, as are permits for cougar in the limited-quota units, but she throws her name in the hat every year and hopes for the best. Montana's Fish, Wildlife & Parks posts big game permit draw results on their website according to an approximate schedule. Having control of my working day, I can monitor the site every few minutes. Keni is very much the opposite and depends on me to relay the news, good or bad. This year, when I discovered she had pulled her long-awaited cougar permit, it only seemed natural to once again have some fun at her expense. After informing everyone in the family that she had drawn and asking them not to tell her, I made up something about having computer problems and told her that she would need to check for herself after work. Since Keni was in the final days of preparing for her wedding, I knew this would be frustrating, as she didn't have a moment to spare. Keni jumped on the computer as soon as she got home, discovered that she had drawn and then tried to phone me. I cut the call off a few times just for the fun of it, then finally let her blurt out the news. Excited does not begin to describe her mood, and she strongly suggested that finally getting a chance to hunt cougar was of significantly more importance than any wedding that may or may not be in her future. That's my girl, I remember thinking, with no small amount of fatherly pride. Her priorities are well in line. "Can you please call Bruce?" Keni added quickly, although her tone suggested something far different from a polite request. "Make sure he knows that I've drawn and see if he can come over and help out." "Already done," I replied. As long as snow conditions are good, he will be there on opening day." "But . . . how . . . Dad! You knew? You knew!" Bruce Duncan is a longtime friend and likely the finest North American hunter I've ever followed around in the woods. He outfits across the border in Idaho and has been at it for more than 30 years. Bruce guided me to a monster Idaho cougar, the biggest bobcat just about anyone has ever seen, a great drop-tine mule deer, and several good black bears along the way. Since cougar season in his area opens quite a bit later than in Montana, Bruce crates up his hounds and jumps the border to condition his older dogs and train the pups. "The only boy a girl can trust . . . " I would ask by way of an incomplete sentence, would be answered with a sweet ". . . is her daddy." Another favorite was "Boys . . . " drew an immediate ". . . are bad!"—always shot through a frown. I spoiled Keni rotten, kidded her at every turn, and loved her way too much. So what? It just felt right, and I wouldn't take another path if someone rolled back time and offered me a second crack. Another thing happened along the way: I gave Keni the opportunity to become a huntress, and she took full advantage. K eni grew up following me around in the Montana mountains. She came along on a successful moose hunt before emancipation from her crib, helped me trail up a mule deer just after she turned 3, and led the celebration when her mom made a fantastic shot on an antelope that same fall. All her practice with a pellet rifle paid off, when at 9, she won the Montana State Pistol Match for her age group. Hounds and those who run them live for the chase. No matter the cold or the cost, everything gets ignored when there is fresh snow in cougar country. Above: The author's daughter, Keni, and other members of the party gather beneath the treed cat. Opposite: Dustin Hoffenbacker, Keni, and Bruce Duncan study the cat's position high in a tree.