I agree. Again, only anecdotal. When I was a little boy, about 7, my grandfather, uncle and dad (along with my two brothers) went up to the mining claim my gg took along with his homestead. Decent mining cabin, but they had built a low lean-to hide down under the cover of the trees. Staked the horses by the claim and then went down into the trees to the hide. Had two big dogs with us. My grandfather was a sheepherder. He had big dogs. Not fancy bred, just well-trained in their bizness. We all crawled into the hide, wind blowing a bit, some snow. Somewhere in that night. The dogs started barking, then whining, and then insisted they came inside, My g-father crawled out, built up the fire. It hadn't gone completely out.
Since it woke us all, my g-pop told my uncle to hand out a long arm. His 30-40. And then there was a crack crack crack rocks thrown and branches breaking. While the dogs huddled inside. My grand father told us boys it was only a cat, and the storm.
But those dogs never had a problem with a cat. When I say cat I mean mountain lion. Whatever was out there they didn't muster to.
I have a similar story...
Seen unmistakable sign two times. One time it was BIG and male... found hair on branches higher than I could reach... He'd been moving fast, I reckon, because a jump from me was only 3/4ths of his stride. The other was female, and my farthest stride was with my heel at the toe of the behinder track, to about 3" behind the heel of the forward track at my toe.
My story:
I was up in the Bob Marshall, about half way up the White River trail, when I turned off the trail and headed north. I come up short at a deep ravine wide enough I couldn't throw a rock over it... It was nearing dark, so I decided to make a dry camp a bit back from the edge, and figure out the navigation in the morning.
I woke up way early in the morning... Charlie, my bad ass wolf hybrid was in the tent and letting out a low I-mean-business growl. I knew something had struck the tent. Shortly after, another pretty good whack on the ground outside... So I grabbed my rifle, kicked up the fire, and stepped back into the brush so I was not so easy to see, and so I could see better.
The next rock was a honker, big as a softball, and I could tell it had come from the ravine. The next one I was dialed in on, and I could tell they were coming from OVER the ravine.
I was looking at my dog, and his bad self was talking to me somewhere between a whine and a growl, scared out of his mind (which I had never seen before), and pretty near trying to crawl into my pants with me. That really freaked me out, bad. That dog is scared of exactly nothing.
I decided I was too exposed, and stepped out of the brush, always facing the ravine, and began to strike camp. And whatever was over there was pissed... Beating and thrashing around in the trees. I couldn't see it, but the dog could... While I was quickly stuffing all my crap into my pack I watched him as he was watching it, and his gaze was gradually going up the ravine, and before very long, he was looking up the ravine on our side.
I ain't proud. I hoofed it. Triple time. Shell jacked and safety off... And the dog was right up next to, beside me the whole time. I was back at the river before mid morning, and it wasn't till then that the dog started to relax a bit, ranging wider, and turning to watch the back trail now and then.
That was just about the spookiest thing that has ever happened to me in the woods.
I ain't never seen one... but I know they exist.