Well, yesterday I ALMOST made my longest shot yet.
I went over to a friend's place to go coyote hunting
, got all geared up and ready to walk to our stand location when I simply looked across the beautiful, flat, Saskatchewan prairie and spotted two coyotes just sitting in the next field. We quickly tried to tie up my friend's dogs before they spotted the coyotes and chased them off, but that only made the dogs start barking and the first coyote buggered off. The second coyote ran about 200 yards, then settled in for a nap on the border of the next field.
-Weatherby Vanguard- glass bedded- trigger job- Boyds' thumbhole stock
-Vortex 4-16X44 Viper HS with DeadHold BDC
-Zeiss Victory PRF rangefinder
- 85 grain Sierra HPBT at only 2950 FPS (That is as fast as it will go with a max charge of Varget out of my 24 inch barrel. Just stupid.)
-10 degrees Celcius
5-6 MPH wind at 10 o' clock
My pal and I climbed a stack of round bales to get a good vantage point. After some fiddling with my rangefinder (it doesn't like cold weather) I finally ranged the sleeping coyote at 930 yards.
"You really gonna take that shot?" said my buddy.
"Well, we'll never make it to the stand on time anyway. Better chances of getting a coyote now." I said.
OF COURSE now I find out I left my iPod with the iSnipe app at home. I know that I'm never gonna reach that far with the elevation in my scope with my slowpoke loads, so I dial all my remaining 24-3/4 MOA of "up" and hold up another 5 feet or so. Three minutes for wind I estimate.
First shot landed about four feet low and a few feet right, and woke the coyote up. he walked a few feet and sat down again, probably grumbling about what woke him from his pleasant slumber.
I held higher and more into the wind for the second shot. It landed a good deal closer, but still nothing. The coyote jogged a few yards and stopped.
Third round landed between his legs. Aw nuts.
My fourth and final round was perfect. I squeezed that trigger so gently, I read the wind perfectly, I held over just the right amount, I just KNEW he was toast.
And as I watched that vapor trail travel over half a mile, over that agonizing two full seconds of flight time Mr. Wiley took two short steps and my shot zipped past his fuzzy buttocks.
Now I feel like an idiot, but at least I learned from this experience, and maybe somebody else will too.
Happy hunting, folks.