Too nice of a morning to do what I was supposed to do. Armed with the intent to shoot something, namely a yote, I bagged the long range idea and took the 222 Rem w/50gr V-Maxs, my stool and sticks and started on a nice walk out behind the house. About a dozen pheasants flushed anywhere from 30 to 150 yards. They are really spooky lately. I continued my stroll when I heard a pheasant doing the alarm/warning/hey mr. yote I know your there squack. I unfolded the stool and plunked my butt on it, settled in and got comfortable with the surroundings. After a bit I gave a couple of muffled squeaks on the little Lohman "Circe" call. In just seconds, there is Mr. Yote. How did he get there, huh? Standing broad side looking in my direction at about 50 yards. He started trotting along the fence. I was too open to bring up the rifle. As he went behind a russian olive bush I brought the gun up and put the cross hairs on him. He was still trotting. I caught myself in one helluva flinch. What's with this. My motion must have caught is eye as he stopped and turned quartering toward me. This time it was calm, cool and collected, except I think I still yanked the trigger. Never the less DRT (I've never figured out what DRT means but lots of ya'll use it when the Bang Flop happens.) Started on the walk again and at the next set my *&$%&^%*&%&^ lens popped out of my glasses. DON'T EVER GET PLASTIC LENS IN WIRE FRAMES. So, I went back to the house and got the Yote Tote. Gonna take him to Neighbor Nick's who is a taxidermist for fun fella. Thus a good pelt won't go to waste. I think there was an exit wound, but its hard to tell.