One I remember well was sleeping on the ground, no tent, about 30 years ago. 35 miles s of flagstaff. I was deer hunting, by myself. I had made camp 100 yards off the road against a range fence. (fence was about 25 feet behind camp) . walked a lot of country, had a big feed, and turned in about 8, to get up and hit it again early in the morning.
Woke up in the middle of the night, from a dead sleep, to the sounds of hooves pounding, getting closer and closer. more than one animal was running right down the fence line, right toward me. I still couldn't see them, but I couldn't lay there any longer. I sat up in my sleeping bag and grabbed my pistol, ready for I don't know what.
Camp was in a little limestone draw, about 100 feet across, the rims were about 20-30 feet high.
Right when I sat up, the deer, or elk, whatever they were, ran through camp across the draw and up the other side. Just then I heard the worst scream I ever heard in my life. I know what blood-curdling means now, and I get goose-bumps typing this . Right on the rim, something screamed again, and I stood straight up, popped off 3 rounds right at where I thought the lion was, and started hollering for all I was worth. I popped off another 3 and hollered some more.
I built up the fire, after that.
Sycamore
