The Death Of A Coyote
In recent years, the local coyote population around my parents’ farm has exploded. We see them everywhere, and hear them yelping all night. We also hear the farm dogs barking at them all night. The general agreement among farmers and hunters is that coyotes are a pest and are to be shot on sight. They will kill farm animals, pets, and game species all the same.
Up until this point in my life, I had never actively hunted coyotes and during hunting season I avoided shooting at them for fear of spooking the deer I was actually after. Over the years, I came to notice that deer dont seem particularly phased by gunfire. I have been to more than one shooting competition where we had to shut down a range while we waited for deer to clear off. So, with the coyote population up, and my excuses to leave them be, worn rather thin, I decided this year deer hunting season is also coyote season.
As a relevant aside, I have talked with a few people, a few times, about how much ammunition to bring hunting. Some hunters will joke “you should only need one”, some will say “Two, incase you need a follow-up shot”. I have a friend that ran out of ammo while hunting and had to finish off a cow moose with a knife, while she was trying to stand back up. I, usually take somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 bullets, and have never needed more than two, I have been lucky so far.
On the second day of opening weekend, I was slowly making my way through the woods and found myself standing in a patch of trees on the North edge of a valley. Below me, I spotted movement. It was two coyotes walking through the tall brown grass with ears back and tails down. I have found that coyotes either walk as though guilty or trot as though they haven’t a care in the world. These two looked suspicious. I brought my rifle to my shoulder and found one in the scope. I squeezed the trigger… and everything went wild. One coyote dropped, the other ran West in the valley, and 20 yards West of them, a large mule deer buck sprinted up the far hill. I trained my optic on him and watched for a chance. No way my 243 was going to push 95 grains of lead through that brush and do anything other than wound it. I noticed movement in the grass, the coyote that had fallen was slowly getting up, clearly mortally wounded. I immediately shot it again, he moved no more. I was down to three bullets in the gun. The second coyote, perhaps unsure of what the noise was, circled back and stood between me and his deceased companion. I took aim and made a clean miss at an embarrassing 87 yards (ranged after the fact). He ran east then south across the valley along an old beaver dam, stopping to look at up me again. I took another chance shot and missed again. I felt good about both shots but somehow neither touched hide or hair. In a flash of fur he was gone. I had one lonely bullet left and I wasn’t about to use it on a coyote knowing full well a big mule deer was somewhere nearby.
I jogged down the hill and checked that the coyote was dead and then walked home for more ammunition, all the while wondering how my marksmanship had been so poor. I have more than once heard old timers tell me that there’s something magic about coyotes, one of the few animals that you seem to miss more shots than you make. Perhaps its their size that makes guessing distance deceiving, maybe its their wily nature, maybe it supernatural… or, my guess, is that its something subconscious. Coyotes are described as a lot of mean nasty things by many people, but at the end of the day, they are a wild dog and to me, that makes it a bit of a hard trigger pull.
I went out that evening and circled back to get pictures of my first coyote. I find it interesting that I have been hunting for nearly 20 years and somehow never got around to shooting a coyote. I approached the downed animal and he laid in an unnatural pose, a pile of fur with a foreleg stuck awkwardly out the side. I lifted his surprisingly heavy body and laid his head on a log, a slightly more dignified pose. I got some hunting photos and inspected its teeth, its k9s worn almost flat. This animal lived a long happy life here. I considered taking its hide, almost out of a sense of obligation to not have it feel like a waste, but it wasn’t particularly nice, given the time of year.
I took the photos and went to my hunting blind for an evening sit and reflected on the days events. I learned that if I’m not going to be a better shooter, perhaps I’d better up my ammo count to 6. Next time I see coyote, I am going to take more time to observe them. I can’t imagine the two of them could have taken down a grown mule deer buck, but they sure looked like they were aiming to try. I wouldn’t say I feel bad about shooting a coyote, and I certainly plan on shooting more. However, some small part of me has to at least respect the plight of the coyote, they haven’t many friends in this lonely world and they’re just out there hunting, like I am. The only difference is, if they aren’t successful, they dont survive. Maybe its because I miss my old dog, or maybe its my recent time in Nepal surrounded by Buddhists that has softened me. I guess I’m of two minds, or just a hypocrite, but I feel bad for the coyotes while actively hunting them… and I doubt I’ll ever change.
Posted in Hunting and tagged Alberta, hunting, Outdoorswith 1 comment.