I’ve found myself in an interesting line of work. To put it as simply as I can, I observe. Usually out in the wilderness with a camera in my hand, a rifle on my shoulder, and my rucksack on my back. You may be wondering what I observe. A lot of the time it’s animals for research studies, and once or twice as just another pair of eyes to monitor activity along the border when the high tech stuff needs some fixing. The rifle became part of my gear after an intense encounter with some folks that weren’t exactly happy to stumble on someone during their nefarious work. I always took great care in making sure my work was as low impact as could be achieved, and sometimes things just happen. Nevertheless, staying strapped made those border jobs feel easier to handle.
Before I get too far, I’ll describe my standard setup for a desert job. First and foremost is comfortable and functional clothing that is also durable. Being in the middle of nowhere for days at a time, practicality is essential. Hiking boots, multicam cargo pants, and a matching multicam combat shirt have worked best for me. On top of the clothing I wear a load-bearing vest to carry certain gear where I can easily get to it. I’m always sure to bring several pairs of socks and underwear. Avoiding the decay and smell of your feet and dangly bits is a matter that can’t be taken lightly, especially when you aren’t able to take a shower for an extended time. Almost as important is a good hat. My entire childhood and into my 20s, I had had little to no hair. After growing it out and realizing my hair is awesome, wearing a hat just became an easy way to keep it out of my face. My favorite hat is a camo baseball cap with a patch that says “Because F**k You, That’s Why”. Never leave home without it. The desert gets cold so a beanie usually comes along as well. Work gloves for general use, and some thick ones for the cold. Some nice thermals also really helped for the particularly chilly times.
After clothing, comes the gear. My rifle is an AR-15 with a digital day/night vision scope. Lightweight, durable, effective. The ability to record video using the scope had helped on a few occasions. Being kinda paranoid, I always take the standard loadout. That means 7 magazines for the rifle, and 4 mags for my pistol. 5.56mm and 9mm are fairly light and being in good shape made sure that weight never slowed me down. To go along with that is a few knives. A large bowie knife hanging on my belt, a couple pocket knives, and a good multi-tool. In my first aid pouch is the usual stuff like band-aids, gauze, tape, and antibiotic ointment, as well as tourniquets. One tourniquet for each limb is the minimum. All the rest of what I carry is typical of an experienced camper. Firestarter, water purification straw, sharpening stone, a tiny folding stove that uses those little tea candles as a heat source. A waterproof bag to store my smelly clothes as I change them so the stench remains hidden. There’s a few of those hard plastic military canteens along with a metal cup for boiling water. I’d say that small packets of instant coffee crystals are one of the most vital things to have. The rest of the space in my ruck is for no less than 1 MRE per day, a camouflage net to cover my work area and provide shade, an almost comically small sleeping bag, a cleaning kit for my guns and camera, and anything else that I might think is necessary like batteries and a solar charger. Rounding out the miscellaneous are a lightweight laser rangefinder, a compass and small map of the area I’m working, an emergency radio, 2 emergency flares, and some of those little colored smoke bombs you can get at a fireworks stand.
Finally I get to my camera. I carry a Nikon D6 with a couple lenses of various sizes and a small tripod. Spare SD cards come in handy on the long trips. All of this may sound like a lot to carry, but it really isn’t that bad. Every item was optimized to be as light as possible because the only way in or out of these places was on foot. Ounces equal pounds, and pounds equal pain.
I got a request to help with a wildlife study in Big Bend National Park in Texas on the border with Mexico. Altogether it’s not a bad area. Beautiful, yet it can be unforgiving to those that don’t respect the laws of nature. Every year, people just disappear in national parks for any number of reasons. Heat, cold, terrain, flora, fauna, and other humans all play a role to some degree. Inexperience or misplaced confidence can be real killers. Luckily for me, I grew up outdoors and had many occasions to practice the essential skills for surviving in different environments. Mountainous regions were my favorite, like the Rocky Mountains or the Appalachians, but the job pays well so I wasn’t about to complain. The terrain of Big Bend has it’s fair share of mountains to climb. It was going to be a simple job. 4 days to collect photos of deer and coyotes, and a mountain lion if the opportunity presented itself. The plan was easy enough to lay out as well. Get out there before the sun rises on the first day and find a good vantage point to make my hide before the heat gets too prohibitive. Once night falls, I pack up and head to the next location, and so on and so forth until the last day. All the while I will be taking pictures of the animals I see. Being mobile at night meant avoiding the heat of the day, but also moving around when most of the animals are doing the same. It would be a walk in the park, national park that is. Knowing a lot of the park rangers gave me an advantage when choosing where I’d want to go, and they never hassled me about the things I brought along. Good people with an abundance of advice that the usual visitor might not get.
The plan was to stick to the high ground for the best vantage points and that meant using the many ridges that crisscross the area. Luckily the first day went without any problems. After getting my bearings and heading to the first spot not too long after sunrise, I was settled and scanning for any and all wildlife. This time after dawn is when the majority of critters are heading back to wherever they call home so they can bed down and rest after a night of whatever it is they do. There are exceptions of course, but generally speaking, daylight means bedtime. For me, it was an excellent chance to see the animals at one of their more obvious times of activity. Positioning myself with my back to the east, away from the rising sun, helped to really highlight movement and keep track of who’s doing what. This day would pass rather uneventfully, and by the time the sun was low in the west, I was ready to move to my next spot. It would take roughly 2 hours if I kept a good pace, based on the terrain, but nature has a way of not caring what your plans are. You’ll get there when you get there.
Upon reaching my new hide in the second ridge I had designated, and getting settled, I lit the little candle for my stove and began to heat some water for coffee. Sitting under the camo netting, I ate my MRE for the day. Something akin to spaghetti for the main course, and I hit the jackpot with a pound cake for dessert. The sides would go back in my rucksack for snacking later. The ground was still warm after the heat of the day, as well as the wind. Beats freezing myself to the bone so I just relaxed and enjoyed the relative silence. Periodically, I would activate the scope on my rifle and begin recording video as I scanned for anything interesting. The moonlight combined with the IR illuminator made the sight distance much larger than if I were only using the IR by itself. Somewhere beyond my sight, I could hear a pack of coyotes as they yelped and howled at each other, communicating for one reason or another. Probably hunting some deer or wild pigs. Those little suckers are nasty, the coyotes I mean, but in my opinion the pigs are worse by a few orders of magnitude. I’d rather run into a pack of coyotes any day of the week than have to deal with a sounder of hogs. At least the coyotes will try to avoid confrontation 99 times out of 100. However the pigs don’t share the same cowardice.
Spending so much time in the wilderness, you learn to understand the sounds of nature. Mating calls, alerts to danger, or whatever the equivalent of chatting about the weather is, all have different tones and pitches that vary from species to species. The night went on as I scanned through my scope, hoping to see something of note, while listening to the sounds of this coyote pack. Their barks and howls aren’t nearly as chilling as hearing them come from wolves, but they were numerous. My best guess was maybe a dozen of them. I could hear them getting closer, but the sounds were carrying up from below so I saw no need to worry. Keeping the high ground has the double benefit of safety and practicality when your job is to observe. After several more minutes, the pack had made their way almost directly under me at the bottom of the ridge and their noises nearly drowned out anything else. I say almost, because about 40 or 50 yards to my right in a ravine that obscured my view, I heard rocks tumbling rapidly down the slope. They sounded rather heavy, so it caught my attention because whatever was causing them to move must have been incredibly strong. As I turned my rifle in the direction of the rocks, my eye was glued to the scope while I tried to see something, anything at all. A breeze wafted up the ridge and just happened to bring a peculiar smell toward me from the direction of the sounds. It smelled like wet dog with a hint of gnarly body odor.
From what I could hear, I estimated there were at least 2 or 3 of whatever these were, and they moved extremely fast. I did my best to follow the sounds of rolling stones as it travelled down the ridge, and I never caught a glimpse. Even with the infrared illuminator on the scope to extend the range of what I could see, there was still nothing. It was at the bottom of the ridge that things got frightening. The coyote pack had become stationary, growling and barking in a defensive posture. Unfortunately with all the brush down there, I couldn’t see anything, but I sure could hear it. They went silent very suddenly and then all hell broke loose. There was snarling and barking and high-pitched yelps that rose to an intense volume and then fell almost as quickly. One by one I could hear the barks get fewer and fewer until all I heard was the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. A chorus of loud, triumphant howls exploded from the darkness. I ducked down and held my rifle close while I waited for them to come to a stop. After what felt like an eternity, they did end and the night was silent. For the rest of the night, I stayed hunkered down under my camo net and eventually fell asleep from pure exhaustion.
When the sun rose in the morning, it was time to move to a new hide on a new ridge. My curiosity got the better of me and I couldn’t help but investigate the area where all the madness had occurred just a few hours before. The scene was a grim one. Blood, fur, and pieces of bone were all over the place and the air was thick with the smell of death. I grew up hunting, and was no stranger to gore, but I couldn’t stop myself from retching at the grotesque display hanging from the trees and splattered on the rocks. The carnage of this absolutely savage evisceration was the worst thing I’d seen in my life. Not in the mood to waste any more time, I checked my map and headed toward my new hide, keeping my head on a swivel and my rifle in my hands the whole way. Luckily the day was uneventful, however that’s also eerie. I hadn’t seen anything, which was a really concerning prospect. No birds, rabbits, squirrels, deer, nothing. It was as if every living thing just vanished. Considering what had happened just a handful of hours ago, I was probably the only creature without a lick of sense to still be hanging around there. Sense or no, I kept walking through the brush and making my way up a new ridge that had an astounding view to the south, with Mexico far out across the large expanse of tan and green. There was a great spot between 2 boulders that afforded some room to stretch under my camo net and it was actually pretty comfortable. It wasn’t a room at the Ritz, but I felt pretty lucky for this spot.
The rest of the day was spent looking through my camera for any possible opportunity to snap a good picture. For good measure, I also took some time to make sure my rifle and pistol were clean, just in case there was a repeat of last night. About an hour before the sun would be below the horizon, I caught sight of something moving out in the distance. Unfortunately it was too far to really know what it was, but I could follow the movement for some time. As the sinking sun gave way to stretching shadows and black of night, I still tried to keep an eye on what I had seen, but eventually I lost it entirely. Using the night vision scope, I could see the IR light stretch for just a couple hundred yards, but there was still nothing of note. I gave my eyes a rest and just stared blankly into the night, and it was then that I saw the smallest pinprick of light. It was just a brief second that made me think my eyes were playing tricks on me until there was another one a few seconds later. This phenomenon continued for about a minute and then came to a stop. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what it was. A breeze came rolling up from the south and was carrying a smell that seemed like a mix of cigarettes and weed. That meant people were out there.
For a while, the smell got stronger, suggesting the source was getting close to me. My rifle was up and I was scanning for trouble. Your average hikers aren’t doing that kind of thing at this time of night, not in all my time spent in places like this. Suddenly a new smell invaded my nostrils. Wet dog and body odor. Although it was against all reason and better judgment, I had to see what these things were. I waited and listened for the sound of their movement, and sure enough I heard the crashing of large bodies going through brush. No more than 30 seconds later came the sounds of screaming. This time I stood up with my rifle in hand, hurriedly put on my vest which carried the extra ammo, and took off as quickly as I could down the ridge and toward the sounds. The staccato sound of gunfire rang out and I heard the hiss of rounds passing over me. Those people were shooting wildly in all directions. At the bottom of the ridge was a game trail that I was able to follow that was relatively clear and took me in the direction of the nightmare unfolding ahead. There was no way I could run without skewering myself on a branch, but I did my best to keep the scope to my eye and jogged down the trail. As I got close, I hit the record button on the scope and made sure it was taking video. The screams had stopped, as did the gunfire, instead the wet thuds of meat being slapped around mixed with low growls.
The whole time I crept forward, scope to my eye, I kept telling myself I was an idiot for doing this and I would probably be dead soon. At last I had found the spot and the thick smell of blood hit me like walking into a brick wall. Slowly I breathed as I scanned back and forth. The growls had become quiet, but I just knew they were still there. I rounded a large bush when my scope flashed a warning that the SD card was full and the recording stopped. It was then that I finally saw them in a small clearing about 15 yards away. 3 of the biggest dogs I had ever seen in my life. The hulking figures were crouched next to each other, staring intently toward me. My heart sank into my stomach. They were waiting for me, and I had no escape. My one thought was what my headstone might read. “Here lies OP, torn to shreds by giant dogs.” I had nothing left to lose. We all knew I was dead. The rifle might help, but ultimately anything would be useless.
They seemed to be in no rush to kill me, like they were letting me be resigned to my fate. The one that I guessed was the alpha of their pack stood up, not on 4 legs, but 2. Just then, by divine intervention or cosmic joke, flashes began briefly lighting the sky. It was a meteor shower. I could now see them without the scope on my rifle. The other 2 stood now and I could really get a good look now. The alpha was 8 feet tall, and the other 2 were about 7 feet tall. Alpha had dark fur that was speckled with silver and seemed to twinkle in the flashes. The others were dark, likely brown or black. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity when I made a choice. Lifting the sling off my shoulder, I placed the rifle on the ground. This got their attention, with their ears twitching and noses wiggling. If I was dying, I wanted it to be memorable.
Keeping my eyes locked on Alpha, I drew my bowie knife and took a deep breath. It felt like I was watching myself do this. With that deep breath, I let out a roar that I never knew I could make. It was primal. Alpha stared and the others began to howl. They were flexing, their breathing getting heavier, probably psyching themselves up to charge and rip me apart. They looked at Alpha like they were asking permission, but they stayed where they were. Alpha straightened his posture and flexed, rippling muscle visible beneath his thick fur. He then made a sound, a huff, almost like an amused laugh. With 2 powerful steps, he came closer, and I did the same. Adrenaline was coursing through my body and I prepared myself for what was sure to happen next.
To my surprise, Alpha raised his lips in a frightening smile, and held 1 huge hand to his mouth. Large fingers curled down into a fist, leaving just 1 at his mouth. He was telling me to be quiet. After a moment, he backed away until he was in line with the others, and then together they stepped into the darkness. I heard the sound of them moving in the brush, heading away from me. Stunned, I just looked blankly into the black as I tried to understand what happened. I sheathed my knife, grabbed my rifle, and slowly started walking back down the trail. 3 howls split the night, then faded away and left only the sound of my own breath for me to hear.
After getting back up the ridge, I sat down in my hide and just stared into nothing, not moving until the first light broke the horizon. Once I snapped out of it, I checked the footage on the scope. Sure enough the recording had stopped just before I had seen them. I was shaken and confused by what had happened. What made them decide to spare me? For that matter, what the hell were they in the first place? Clearly they were intelligent and able to reason. All the hoping that it was some kind of hallucination wasn’t enough to make me think it hadn’t been real. I knew what I saw.
Not long after sunrise, I packed up and began the trek to leave and go home. The wildlife had come back. Birds were chirping and bugs were buzzing around. The events just kept going through my mind as I walked. After finding a trail presumably used by rangers, I made good time and ran into a Parks & Wildlife truck that was kind enough to give me a ride out. I didn’t say a word about what I saw when the ranger told me they were investigating gunfire last night. Nobody in their right mind would believe me. I told him I had heard the gunfire, but had no idea where it came from. All the same he asked to do a GSR (gunshot residue) test on my hands, to which I agreed. I never fired a shot so I had nothing to hide as far as that was concerned. Once I was free to go, I walked to my truck, loaded my gear, and drove away. There were enough pictures to satisfy the client that sent me out there, but I just wished I had gotten anything at all of those creatures. Werewolves seemed a little crazy, but I’ve heard about the dogman. Lacking any better theories, that’s what I guess they were. Smart, fast, strong, but not merciless. The fact that I can tell this story is evidence enough of that. Why did they let me live? What I did or didn’t do that made them not kill me is still anyone’s guess.