A beautiful winter coyote.
As much as I would like to be I am not yet a full time professional hunter and neither are any of my hunting buddies. So just like the rest of the outdoor lovers we have to navigate work schedules, family lives and various other responsibilities in order to sneak out into the woods and do what we love. So Friday night I got on the phone and rounded up a couple buddies to come out for a Saturday morning predator hunt. They both had to out of the woods by 11:00am for work so we decided to meet up pre-dawn to get an early start on things.
Shortly after dawn we were tucked into the snow along a fence line overlooking a small field and the edge of a swamp that we knew held a significant number of Coyotes. As promising as the spot was and how convincing the dying rabbit squeals coming from our calls were; the Coyotes weren’t coming. The gusty wind that had picked up to over 30 mph just after dawn certainly wasn’t helpful but we were determined to call in a Coyote regardless. We tried several sets in various locations around the property hoping to get within earshot of a hungry Coyote that would respond to our calls but 9:30 found us back at the truck discussing our options for the remainder of the morning.
We decided we had enough time for two more sets on a different piece of property and loaded up to head that way. This time we snuck into position along a north / south running fence line that separates a 60 acre field from a large swamp. We were only 400 yards from the closest neighbor’s house but going any farther threatened to alert any Coyotes that were holed up in the swamp. The wind had calmed down and my two buddies opted to sit in the tall grass on the field edge hoping to ambush any Coyotes that were trying to capitalize on the west wind by coming out to the field and circling to our downwind. I sat inside the woods with only 30 yards separating me from the thick tangled brush that surely held a Coyote.
After giving the woods a few minutes to settle down I slowly raised my distress call to my lips and let out a series of squeals and cries. For 20 seconds the quiet winter air was pierced with the sounds of a Cottontail rabbit in the throws of death being ripped apart in a rage. I mimicked one last gasp and then all was silent. My eyes began scanning the thick brush in front of me looking for the predator that was now hunting me. Suddenly a brown blur flashed through the swamp tangle in front of me and my heart instantly raced with adrenalin as my mind registered the shape as a Coyote a mere 30 yards away. The Coyote trotted slowly through the swamp brush, his eyes now scanning the woods for the rabbit that was so surely dead. He was moving towards the field trying to circle downwind of the sound he heard and was heading straight for the other hunters. I slowly reached down and grabbed my rifle as the Coyote trotted 10 yards behind a large Oak, hoping that it would shield me from his searching eyes. He must have heard my glove quietly rub against my gun because he immediately stopped out of site behind the tree. I tried to steady my breathing and racing heart as I waited for him to reappear.
After not appearing for several seconds I gave several soft squeaks with my lips in hopes that he had not disappeared back into the swamp. The sound had barely left my lips when the Coyote came around the tree and into view at 20 yards heading straight towards me. I quickly raised my gun and centered my crosshairs on his chest. The Coyote saw my movement and stopped his advance staring directly at me. Time seemed to stand still as his eyes glared at me and I lowered crosshair to his front shoulder. I squeezed the trigger and the bark of my .223 shattered the silence of the woods.
The Coyote immediately hit the ground like a sack of potatoes and began rolling around biting his shoulder where the round had entered. I quickly racked another round into the chamber of my rifle as the Coyote jumped to his feet and began to plow through the snow back into the swamp. I carefully tried to pick my shot through the trees and brush as the Coyote barreled through the cover, knowing that I would only have one opportunity at another good shot. But just as mysteriously as he appeared the Coyote vanished into the swamp leaving me with nothing but the sound of him crashing through the brush.
My buddies quickly rushed to my side and we recanted the events that had just taken place. They had managed to see him tumbling and running after the shot but were unable to take any shots due to the thickness of the swamp. We all knew immediately that the Coyote was mortally wounded and set off tracking him. As we headed into the swamp the snow began to fall heavily and we knew we had to get to him quick before his tracks were covered. Immediately there was blood on the snow and our hearts raced as we ducked and crawled through the brush always looking ahead for our prey.
After 60 yards of following the trail we came upon a spot where the Coyote had laid down. But there was no Coyote, only a puddle of blood and tracks and blood leading away from the bed. Coyotes are notoriously tough and we all knew that we might be in for a long job of tracking in order to find this one. Still very much determined, we quickly picked up our pace as the snow started to fall faster and threatened to cut our trail short.
We followed the trail for a mile through brush and swamp so thick that Davey Crockett would have looked for a way around. We tracked him under brush piles, over creeks, across fields and his numerous double-backs. He was using every trick he knew to try and loose us and he knew we were hot on his trail. After almost a mile and a half we came to a pile of old junked cars. It was almost 11am and almost the time when my hunting buddies had to leave. Looking down I saw the tracks lead towards the pile of old cars and I whispered to my buddy “I bet you he’s holed up right under there”. We slowly approached the pile of cars and saw where the tracks disappeared underneath them. I handed my gun to my buddy and slowly got down on my hands and knees. I lowered my head to peer under the rusted bumper and immediately froze as my eyes locked with the Coyote that was merely three feet away. His ears laid back and he showed his teeth as he growled at me, warning me not to come any closer.
I quickly jumped back to avoid a potential charge and alerted my buddy that the coyote was under the car. He quickly dropped to his belly to look under the car and try and get a shot but was unable to see the coyote. There was much commotion as I insisted that the Coyote was under there and urged my buddy to take the shot. As he insisted that the Coyote was not under the car I once again dropped to my hands and knees and peered under the car, only to see the ass end of the Coyote squeezing towards a potential exit on the other end of the car. In an attempt to stop the Coyote from escaping I quickly tried running around the pile of junked cars…but I was too late.
The Coyote squeezed out from under the cars and took off running through the snow and disappeared back into the swamp. As he ran off I could see his front shoulder, red with blood, and showing an extensive wound. I don’t know how he could still be running that strong. We immediately got back on the trail and resumed tracking him, hoping for another chance. But with the snow falling fast and buddies that needed to get back to the truck for work we reluctantly had to abandon the trail after several hundred more yards.
After dropping the guys off at home I went back to the woods but was heartbroken to see the snow had covered all the trails and eliminated the possibility of cutting a good track. There is absolutely nothing worse to me than wounding an animal and not being able to recover it. Especially when the fight is so tough and the chase is so valiant. But until my next encounter with a magnificent creature of the outdoors I will continue to hone my shooting and hunting skills in the hopes that my next effort to take an animal will be as quick and humane as possible.
Shoot Straight,
Opie