I told you Monday that our neighbor had a calf killed by coyotes, and that now all the people who live around me are working hard to put an end to one of those coyotes that just keeps coming back to the scene of the crime. Even though I’m not an avid coyote hunter, I have joined in that pursuit. And every time I catch a glimpse of that ‘yote, I become a little more serious about coyote hunting.
Coyotes all tend to be a little mangy this time of year, but this one is scragglier than usual. I don’t know if it has some horrible disease, or if it’s just starving, but there’s something definitely off with it. It has almost no hair on its tail, and it has bald patches all over the rest of its body, too. I think shooting it would be an act of mercy.
And then there’s the new rifle factor. I could use this rifle for antelope hunting, but I’ve been taking my old .270 out after goats since I was old enough to hunt. It just doesn’t seem right to leave it in the safe and take the new kid out in its place. It’s a 6.5 Creedmoor, so I’m not comfortable trying to get an elk with it. Besides, it’s heavy. It’s built to plunk down on a shooting mat or a bench and put bullets exactly where I want them to go all the way out as far as I feel comfortable shooting. It’s a coyote gun, plain and simple.
And now it has a target. It’s a wily target, to be sure. That coyote has popped up and given me a good look at least six times since Kevin called to tell me we had a ‘yote that needs to be removed from the population. But each time it’s shown itself, it’s done so in a spot I can’t get a shot at it. It’s like it knows, and it’s just toying with me.
The longer this goes on, the more I want to break that new rifle in on this specific coyote. But as crafty as he is, he’ll probably die of old age before he lets me get a shot at him.