Once again...no friggin' cat! However, I think the effort we put in was worth it.
We started calling out west hoping to lure in a bobcat. No dice. We did, however, spot a coyote out in the valley floor about 1025 yards away. The elevation for the shot was good, the windage was not so good. The coyote thought neither was good and was sprinting off to other parts. It was some real decent looking country, just no luck with the cats.
We decided to take off out east to a ranch that is a known dog producer. Seconds after passing the ranch owner on the road headed for town, we spotted a dark coyote not 50 yards away from the roadside, hunting in a slough. We ended up putting a stalk toward his position and howled. After a minute or two, he decided to investigate. Bad move. My spotter tells me "about 200". I said, "no way". Bad move. I held over in the VH reticle about 300. The VMAX sailed harmlessly over the top of his back.
A couple of nice things about a 16 pound autoloader, is how fast you can follow up and remain on target. This particular coyote didn't care for his almost intimate knowledge of my little red headed friend. He was hauling ass from right to left and my spotter was unable to get yardages and howl to stop him at the same time. The big male finally stopped and looked back at the short bark Steve gave him. Another bad move. The next FOUR shots were a blur with two hits. Range after the fact was about 450. His acquaintance and relationship with the red head was rather brief.
He was quite nice on the topside, but Steve ended up finding the coyote was a little mangy on the underside when he was skinning him. Which leads us to coyote number two.
While Steve is whittling away on dog #1, He tells me to walk over to a small draw and try a solo stand. Not wanting to waste any daylight, I reluctantly agreed. I did a couple of few short yips and howls over the next few minutes. Wouldn't you know it, coyote number two strolls into view. Of course, she comes in behind me, so I have to contort myself and the rifle to get her into the scope. A quick range with the Swarovski, and she's 200 yards away.
Steve said the ensuing meat report was as loud if not louder than the shot from whence it originated. She's a beautiful pale dog in full winter coat. VERY nice fur. Steve commences skinning job number two. (I'm lucky to have such a good friend whose willing to do all the dirty work while I get to play!) Number one ended up unfinished in the bushes as the mange was setting in.
While we were working on number two, the ranch owner, on his way back home, pulls up and we chat for a while. He tells us that the property was flown that very day. Some of the of the local ranchers have a habit of calling the feds in. They run a light plane over the property and knock the crap out of the dogs with a 10 ga. I'm sure glad no one told us beforehand! Otherwise we may not have even tried to go out.
The last stand was on a ridge overlooking a small valley. This place is just fantastic. We can see for miles, from the north to the south. Steve howled a few times and we heard responses from all sides. The light was failing and so was our hope of seeing any of these dogs.
I ended up spotting her over 800 yards away. She was making her way toward us at what seemed like a snails' pace. Her pale coat was barely discernible against the prairie grass at twilight. I had some difficulty finding her again after switching from binocs to scope, but my trusty friend Steve got me back on her. We followed her progress together, all the while Steve calling out ranges. She finally stopped, broadside at 535 yards. This coincidentally is the EXACT yardage of the 4th stadia line in the VH reticle, that matches the drop of my 87 VMAX.
The sharp blast of the .243 was followed up by that distinct dull sound of the meat report. We couldn't believe it. It was damn near dark out. She was a beautiful OLD dog, whose teeth were so worn down, I'm surprised she made it through the winter. She was skinned by FJ headlight after carrying her back to the rig a mile or so away.
I'll gladly give up on a cat for a day like this! Enjoy, Eric.
Sorry, no pics of #2. I'll post some after she's been processed.
Cat country
Dog #1
Dog #3
We started calling out west hoping to lure in a bobcat. No dice. We did, however, spot a coyote out in the valley floor about 1025 yards away. The elevation for the shot was good, the windage was not so good. The coyote thought neither was good and was sprinting off to other parts. It was some real decent looking country, just no luck with the cats.
We decided to take off out east to a ranch that is a known dog producer. Seconds after passing the ranch owner on the road headed for town, we spotted a dark coyote not 50 yards away from the roadside, hunting in a slough. We ended up putting a stalk toward his position and howled. After a minute or two, he decided to investigate. Bad move. My spotter tells me "about 200". I said, "no way". Bad move. I held over in the VH reticle about 300. The VMAX sailed harmlessly over the top of his back.
A couple of nice things about a 16 pound autoloader, is how fast you can follow up and remain on target. This particular coyote didn't care for his almost intimate knowledge of my little red headed friend. He was hauling ass from right to left and my spotter was unable to get yardages and howl to stop him at the same time. The big male finally stopped and looked back at the short bark Steve gave him. Another bad move. The next FOUR shots were a blur with two hits. Range after the fact was about 450. His acquaintance and relationship with the red head was rather brief.
He was quite nice on the topside, but Steve ended up finding the coyote was a little mangy on the underside when he was skinning him. Which leads us to coyote number two.
While Steve is whittling away on dog #1, He tells me to walk over to a small draw and try a solo stand. Not wanting to waste any daylight, I reluctantly agreed. I did a couple of few short yips and howls over the next few minutes. Wouldn't you know it, coyote number two strolls into view. Of course, she comes in behind me, so I have to contort myself and the rifle to get her into the scope. A quick range with the Swarovski, and she's 200 yards away.
Steve said the ensuing meat report was as loud if not louder than the shot from whence it originated. She's a beautiful pale dog in full winter coat. VERY nice fur. Steve commences skinning job number two. (I'm lucky to have such a good friend whose willing to do all the dirty work while I get to play!) Number one ended up unfinished in the bushes as the mange was setting in.
While we were working on number two, the ranch owner, on his way back home, pulls up and we chat for a while. He tells us that the property was flown that very day. Some of the of the local ranchers have a habit of calling the feds in. They run a light plane over the property and knock the crap out of the dogs with a 10 ga. I'm sure glad no one told us beforehand! Otherwise we may not have even tried to go out.
The last stand was on a ridge overlooking a small valley. This place is just fantastic. We can see for miles, from the north to the south. Steve howled a few times and we heard responses from all sides. The light was failing and so was our hope of seeing any of these dogs.
I ended up spotting her over 800 yards away. She was making her way toward us at what seemed like a snails' pace. Her pale coat was barely discernible against the prairie grass at twilight. I had some difficulty finding her again after switching from binocs to scope, but my trusty friend Steve got me back on her. We followed her progress together, all the while Steve calling out ranges. She finally stopped, broadside at 535 yards. This coincidentally is the EXACT yardage of the 4th stadia line in the VH reticle, that matches the drop of my 87 VMAX.
The sharp blast of the .243 was followed up by that distinct dull sound of the meat report. We couldn't believe it. It was damn near dark out. She was a beautiful OLD dog, whose teeth were so worn down, I'm surprised she made it through the winter. She was skinned by FJ headlight after carrying her back to the rig a mile or so away.
I'll gladly give up on a cat for a day like this! Enjoy, Eric.
Sorry, no pics of #2. I'll post some after she's been processed.
Cat country
Dog #1
Dog #3
