Casey Anderson

It’s amazing how each animal is designed for its specific environment. But one thing I’ve especially noticed with mountain lions is how their tawny color seems capable of vanishing into almost any landscape on Earth. Mountain lions range from southern Alaska all the way to the tip of Patagonia, and everywhere in between. High alpine mountains. Desert. Jungle. Scrublands. Grasslands. And somehow, in all of them, they disappear. That tawny coat adapts perfectly to shadow, rock, dry grass, dirt, and filtered light. One second they’re there, the next they’re gone. It’s one of the reasons they’ve become one of the most widespread and successful predators in the Western Hemisphere. A mountain lion doesn’t dominate the landscape by overpowering it. It survives by becoming part of it.

A mountain lion kills a mule deer in the mountains of Montana, and at first glance it looks like a story about death. But it’s also a story about life. That deer may feed the mountain lion for days, but the lion is rarely the only beneficiary. Ravens often arrive first, their sharp eyes scanning the landscape for opportunity. Magpies join the feast. Golden eagles may drop in. Coyotes, foxes, and even bears can take their turn. Mice and voles drag away tiny scraps. Beetles, flies, and countless insects begin their work. Eventually, fungi and microbes return what remains to the soil. The death of one animal can ripple through an entire ecosystem. A single mule deer may provide nourishment to dozens of species, each playing a role in the endless cycle that keeps wild places functioning. What appears harsh to us is often one of nature's most generous acts. I've spent a lifetime following mountain lion tracks, and one of the things they continue to teach me is that predators don't just take life, they distribute it. They move energy across the landscape, feeding a web of creatures most people never see. In the wild, nothing is wasted. Every ending becomes a beginning for something else. That's one of the most beautiful lessons the mountains have to offer.

I’ve learned a lot in the tracks of a mountain lion. Not from seeing them, but from following where they’ve been. Most days, I never lay eyes on the cat itself. Instead, I walk in its footsteps. I study how it interprets the landscape. I see the places it chooses to visit, where it beds, how it moves through hunting areas, where it crosses streams, how it uses the wind, and how it handles terrain that most people never think twice about. One of the things that always amazes me is that mountain lions move across a landscape in ways that humans often can’t, or at least not easily. They’ll sidehill steep slopes, disappear through cliffs, weave through deadfall, and travel routes that can be exhausting just to follow. Keeping up with a mountain lion is often a challenge in itself. Over time, I take all of that information and log it in OnX. And something interesting starts to happen. Patterns emerge. Those patterns become tendencies. And those tendencies begin to teach you how a mountain lion thinks. Not completely, of course. A mountain lion will always keep some secrets. But little by little, you start to understand why it chose one ridge over another, why it traveled a particular drainage, or why it paused in a specific patch of timber. And when you begin to recognize those patterns, you start moving differently yourself. You begin looking at the landscape through a mountain lion’s eyes. That’s when the search changes. Because finding a mountain lion isn’t usually about spotting a cat. It’s about understanding one. And every track in the snow is a clue.

Get 20% off any ONX subscription with code "VENTURE20" at https://www.onxmaps.com Fresh snow is one of the greatest gifts a wildlife tracker can ask for, and after a fresh blanket covered the Montana backcountry, Riley and I knew it was time to go searching for one of the most elusive predators in North America—the mountain lion. Not long after leaving the trailhead, we cut a set of fresh lion tracks and began following them deep into the mountains. Every track, every turn, and every clue told part of the story, and we knew there was a chance the cat had made a kill nearby. Following a mountain lion on foot is never easy, but these are the moments I live for—reading the landscape and piecing together the movements of an animal that spends its life avoiding detection. Along the way, I discovered a cave tucked into a rocky outcrop and couldn't resist investigating. Crawling inside, I found evidence that it had been used as a bear den in the past. As the day unfolded, the tracks led us to exactly what we were hoping for—a fresh kill. We deployed a team of remote cameras and left them to do their work. If you enjoy wildlife adventures and backcountry exploration, be sure to subscribe and follow along for the next adventure. Follow the Endless Venture team Casey Anderson https://www.facebook.com/GrizGuy/ https://www.instagram.com/grizzlyguy/ Riley McClaughry (Cameraman/Editor) https://www.instagram.com/riley.mcclaughry/ DISCLAIMER: The content featured on Endless Venture is created by Casey Anderson, a professional wildlife tracker, filmmaker, and wilderness expert with nearly 50 years of experience in the field, alongside a highly trained team of professionals. All activities involving wild animals and remote wilderness environments are conducted with extensive knowledge, preparation, and safety protocols. Do not attempt to replicate anything you see on this channel without the guidance and support of qualified professionals. Wild animals are unpredictable, and wilderness environments can be extremely dangerous. Your safety—and the safety of wildlife—should always come first.

When most people think about bears catching fish, they picture giant brown bears standing in Alaska's salmon streams. But Alaska isn't the only place where bears fish. Right here in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, both grizzly bears and black bears will take advantage of spawning trout when the opportunity presents itself. It's not as common as it once was, but thanks to ongoing conservation efforts, Yellowstone cutthroat trout populations are beginning to rebound in some watersheds. This beautiful brown-phase black bear is trying her luck in a spawning stream, taking shot after shot at Yellowstone cutthroat trout. Not every attempt was successful, but that's part of the story. Wild animals are constantly balancing energy, opportunity, and instinct. It's a reminder that Yellowstone's food web is incredibly connected. Healthy trout populations don't just benefit anglers, they provide food for otters, eagles, ospreys, pelicans, bears, and countless other species that have relied on these fish for thousands of years. Have you ever seen a black bear fishing for trout?