I had set up like the single page of instructions included with the calls, had stated. Looking downwind, gun at the ready, a series of shrill screams blasted through the still air. I would wait 15 minutes and voila! I would be skinning out my first devil dog.
“What the Sam hell am I doing wrong?”
“Am I blowing on the right end?”
“Crap, I’m out of crackers already.”
“Darn it, I should have put on 2 pairs of socks.”
“Well there is always tomorrow, what could I really expect the first day? Hell, I think I’m the most bestest coyote caller in all of Wisconsin.”
“Wait. I can’t leave yet. If I could just get one of them overexcited crows to land as I blow the call, I could really see the damage this 22 magnum is capable of.”
And so I continued to blow as I stood between two shoulder high red cedar trees as the defining sound of 25 crows belted out their desire to clean up the scraps of a rabbit that was never there.
As I waited for one of those black sky rats to land, I caught some movement off to my right. I could hardly believe what my two little peepers were tellin’ me. As sure as the snow was white, on a steady trot, approached the most menacing and destructive wild creature my virgin eyes had ever seen.
I brought the gun to my shoulder, looked thru the 3/4” scope, fresh off my daisy 880 pellet gun. Behold in that scope did I find the shoulders of a walking coyote. A mere thirty yards off he moved, as if seemingly ignoring my presence. A strong gait, muscular stature, a streamlined appearance, he was an animal built to kill. A warm feeling came over me. It seemed as if a fog in my brain was blocking my vision. I began to tremble. I may have even peed a little.
I thought to myself; “Focus, focus. He’s huge. Better make it a head shot. No, wait for him to stop. Don’t blow it. Wait… Wait…”
Then with a lift of his nose and a seemingly effortless movement, the coyote was gone off in the direction he came from. My heart raced as I took my first breath in what seemed like days. He was gone. I had seen my first coyote ever. From that day on I was hooked, like a baby on the bottle, a toddler on tootsie rolls, a teenage boy on his uncle’s Playboys. You get the picture….
“He ain’t so dang tuff.”
“Wait til next Saturday.”
“This dang scope is no good, time to upgrade.”
I kicked dirt clods and manure patties as I headed for home.
Now you just wait one minute before you crucify a stupid little 15 year old who thought the sun set on his ass. Those dang coyote call instructions never said anything about the song dog being afraid of people and high tailing it out of the country the minute he caught wind of me. We didn’t have the internet back then. Hell if I had known the desert wolf was half chicken, I would have plugged him the minute the crosswire caught fur.
Join the discussion of this article HERE at the Article Discussion Forum.
<Previous | Home