Looking Back: A Rare West Texas Encounter

Looking Back: A Rare West Texas Encounter

In the rugged desert brush of West Texas, where the landscape itself feels untouched by time, few moments can rival a rare encounter with one of North America’s most elusive predators — the mountain lion.

Nearly nine years ago, in September 2016, hunter Mitch Nau experienced just that. What began as an ordinary day near Comstock, Texas, turned into something extraordinary. No hounds had treed the cat. There was no bait involved. It was simply Mitch, a Howa 22-250 rifle, and sharp instincts honed by years of field experience.

From nearly 200 yards out, Mitch spotted the big cat—silent, swift, ghostlike against the landscape. Two clean shots, and the moment was frozen in time. Not just a successful hunt, but a rare glimpse into the wild soul of West Texas. One that few ever witness.

Today, that memory resonates differently.

Since that encounter, mountain lion sightings across Texas have steadily increased. Trail cameras capture them crossing fence lines in the dead of night. Ranchers and hikers swap stories more frequently. And the public is starting to ask more questions — about safety, conservation, and coexistence.

While some may still see them as predators to be feared or managed, others are beginning to appreciate the mountain lion’s quiet role in the ecosystem. They are apex predators — balancing populations of deer and smaller mammals, and moving silently across miles of unforgiving terrain.

For hunters like Mitch, the moment is both a trophy and a lesson — a reminder that wilderness still exists in pockets of our increasingly busy world. It calls us to be alert, respectful, and humbled in its presence.

Mountain lions don’t seek the spotlight. They prefer shadows, steep canyons, and moonlit ridges. But as human development pushes deeper into wild lands, the line between “sighting” and “encounter” is thinning.

This story from 2016 is no longer an outlier — it’s part of a growing narrative.

And as we reflect on that crisp September day, we’re reminded that West Texas is still wild — still full of mystery, silence, and the rare thump of a lion’s paw against rock.

Balance is no longer optional. It’s essential.

Because they were here long before us.

And if we’re wise, they’ll be here long after.