His eyes never left me. He was staring right through me. It was an eerie feeling. I knew instantly that I wasn't safe. As I started to back up, he charged.

The lion's eyes were still boring through me as he loped at an easy pace toward me. I don't remember lifting the rifle to my shoulders any more than I remember taking the safety off or aiming. It was all instinct - a survivor's instinct.

It was the first day of Utah's rifle deer hunt. I can remember when schools used to close down and the day was considered a legal holiday. It still is to me.

I've been hunting for 25 years. I joined the Dedicated Hunter program, which allows me to hunt all three deer hunts: archery, muzzleloader, and rifle. It gives me an opportunity to look for the big bucks.

It was still dark when we left camp. I drove nearly eight miles and only saw one other person. I parked the ATV and walked for another hour and a half. I still hadn't seen anyone else, and I hadn't heard a shot.

I'm not sure what time it was. I was deep in the backwoods and I was tingling with excitement. I had been very quiet as I slipped around each hillside carefully glassing before I moved to the next crest. I sat down to rest. I could see two hillsides clearly.

I tried to call Robert on the walkie-talkie but he didn't answer. I sat there for a minute more then saw one doe deer bounding down and away from me. I got up and walked slowly around one pine tree. That was when I saw the big mountain lion.

We were on the same trail. His eyes were locked on me and he never stopped walking. His steps were constant and steady. When I began to back up, he charged and I shot. I didn't know if I had hit the cat, or if I had just scared him.

Where did he come from? How long had he been there? Had he just materialized from the shadows? Did I surprise him or was he following me, waiting for just the right moment? Was he alone? Had he dashed out of rifle range to plan another attack? Was he dead? Wounded!!

I was immediately afraid the wounded animal would come back for revenge. I strained my eyes towards the last place I had seen the big cat. It was steep terrain. There was a small opening before thick dark pine trees shrouded me within my small circle.

I had to know where that lion was and if he was dead or alive, but there was no way that I was going after him alone! I used my binoculars to search for any sign. I couldn't see or hear anything. The hair on the back of my neck stood to attention. My senses were peaked. I thought I could hear flies circling my empty pop can back at the four-wheeler. I kept replaying the whole scene through my mind over and over.

It was probably only a matter of seconds, but it felt like forever. In the past, when I've had close encounters with mountain lions and bears, they never made eye contact and they darted away so fast that I wondered if what I saw was real. I kept trying to convince myself that I was dreaming a very bad dream. Except that I was awake.

I think I sat there for about an hour trying to reach Robert on the radio and waiting for the big cat to return. I finally marked my spot with my hat and hiked to a ridge. I called several more times on the radio without getting any response from my husband. "Robert, where are you? Why don't you answer?" I thought about telling the people chatting on the radio that I needed help. I was still pretty shaken up.

I found a bush and answered nature's call. It was then that I knew that I had been attacked for a reason. Mother Nature was not just making a call, but a monthly visit. I believe that the cat could smell the blood and tracked me down. I also noticed that my 30-06 rifle was still on "fire" mode. I had automatically chambered another shell. I didn't remember doing that.

I shuddered. This was no accidental encounter. I was supposed to be his lunch. I felt completely alone and cold. In my mind, the cat had just increased from a mountain lion to a very large mountain lion. As the minutes ticked away, he kept getting bigger and bigger. I didn't know what to do. I started talking frantically into the radio, "Robert, Robert, please can you hear me?"

I wanted to stay put, but I also felt an obligation to the animal that I might have wounded. Fear kept me on the ridge until finally, I walked slowly back to where I had marked the trail. I found a small dark drop of blood near the cat's retreating steps. I sat back down and waited for help. I kept wringing my hat with my hands. I couldn't take my eyes off the last place I had seen the big mountain lion.

I don't know how much time lapsed before I finally talked to Robert on the radio. It seemed like forever. It turned out that we were on two different

channels. I didn't explain, but I told him that I needed his help. He came right away.

I told my incredible tale. He thought that tracking the cat would be difficult since lions don't normally leave a very good impression, but the blood drops turned quickly into a big spray. We found the cat only 30 yards from where I had shot. The bullet had gone through the front quadrant on the shoulder, hit a bone and shattered. The exit wound was only inches behind on the same side.

As we began to skin out the cat, Robert's severe allergies kicked in. He was wheezing and gasping for breath. I finished, stuffed the skin into his backpack, and loaded it on my shoulders. It was pretty heavy. I had to walk about 60 yards in front of Robert so that he could catch some fresh air. We walked slowly and his breathing improved. We didn't get to my ATV for another hour.

As soon as I got to camp, I used the cell phone and called the local game wardens. They came and took measurements. My cat was an eight-foot tom, a foot bigger than the one that I had taken with my bow the year before. According to Utah law, the wardens were required to take the cat and conduct an investigation. They determined that my story was true.

I have since thought how lucky I am. Even though I am a pretty good shot with my bow and arrow, I don't think I would have had the time to fire an arrow. I also wonder what would have happened if the cat would have come from behind me. My husband once taught me a rule about hunting, "When you least expect it, expect it." I wasn't expecting what I think was a wakeup call. Not all hunters walk on two legs.