Where's Bubba? Final Chapter

mikegranger

Active member
Remember Where’s Waldo, well I had a similar experience on the last hunt. I wasn’t looking for a funny dressed guy with black glasses, but the world famous Bubba the wonder dog. But before I get to that, we have to start at the beginning.

The kids came home for Christmas a week early and were back at their respective homes by the week of Christmas. My lovely bride of 27 years had to work on Christmas Day and following 4 days, so I had the bright idea of loading the dogs and trailer and going on another extended coyote hunt. I was taking the week off between Christmas and New Years and didn’t have much to do but hunt. Christmas morning dawns bright and beautiful, said wife gives me a kiss on the way to work and I jump in the truck and head out The dogs are excited and barking their heads off, safely locked in the box (I learned my lesson on the last expedition). The snow hasn’t been too bad this year with only a couple inches on the ground in Lewistown. Unfortunately, the further I traveled, the deeper it got. Two and a half hours later I was pulling off on a dirt road looking for a good parking spot, but now the snow was 10 inches deep. This wasn’t good! I mentioned replacing the trucks transmission in the last story. What I didn’t mention was the mechanic showed me the torque converter, which was colored a nice shade of blue. His exact quote “see the blue tinge, it isn’t paint and they don’t come from the factory like that, it’s from overheating your transmission”.

He then asked if I got stuck in the snow much! Yikes, this guy was good. I sheepishly admitted to being stuck at least 8 times last year, one of which was with the trailer still attached. He suggested I not get stuck so much and for sure don’t rock the truck back and forth.

All of this was bouncing around in my skull as I drove the dirt road 25 miles down and back, looking for a good spot. I finally found a suitable location and managed to get the trailer parked without getting stuck! But, I did manage to break a front window to the trailer somehow. Did I mention that it was a balmy -15 below zero? No? Well it was and let me tell you right now, duct tape won’t stick to anything at that temperature. Tried as I may, I could not get the window sealed up and luck would have it, the trailer was pointed right into the wind. Chilly was an understatement! Anyway, I gave up on the repair job and we were out hunting by 1 pm. We saw 4 coyotes during the rest of the day but none would come our way.

Back at the trailer, the 10 gallons of drinking water was beginning to freeze and insides of the trailer was covered with frost. I got the catalytic heater working, and the gas light and burners on the stove going. The previously mentioned broken window was not doing what windows are supposed to do during the winter and all kinds of drafts were making their way around the towel stuffed in the opening. With all the open flame burning inside the trailer one would expect it to be toasty warm. NOT! Remember this is an old trailer and with the wind chill dipping to -25, I was anything but toasty. That is, except for when I stood up. Head height was unbearably hot. I looked kind of funny with a dish towel in my hands flapping the air around, trying to get the bottom cold air to be replaced by the hot, upper air. After awhile I gave up and sat down to a supper of leftover ribs, bbq beans and corn on the cob. As I was eating, the radio was tuned to Focus On the Family. Remember, this is Christmas Day and their broadcast was of individuals calling in about their most memorable Christmas. Not one was about gifts they may have received in the past, but of times spent with moms, dads, brothers, sisters and other family members. As I sat there listening to such wonderful memories my hard old heart just about broke. What was I thinking? Here it is Christmas Day, the most Holy day of the year, and I’m sitting in a freezing cold trailer, parked in the middle of nowhere, with not a soul in sight. And all for what, a ten dollar coyote!! I vowed right then and there to not repeat this mistake again. After supper I jumped fully clothed into the sleeping bag and prayed for sticky duct tape! I don’t know how cold it got during the night but it was -15 when I went to bed and the wind was blowing 10 mph or so.

The following morning the truck almost didn’t start and the dogs just peaked out of their box with a look on their face like “you’ve got to be kidding”!

I know, I’m a coyote hunting fool. Heavy on the fool part!

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If it looks cold it’s because it is!


The snow was so deep that snowshoes went on my feet at each stand.
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I bought these babies on Ebay at the end of coyote season last year and hadn’t had a chance to use them. Let me tell you right now, they’re tenfold better than my old wooden shoes. Now I know why everyone swears by them. The old shoes will become wall hangers now.


The hunting wasn’t going so good and by noon I had walked a couple of miles on snowshoes, called four stands and had seen only one coyote. The witching hour was now upon us and I was feeling confident. On the way into the next stand a coyote jumped up and was running was down the trail in front of us. I never shoot at these unless they’re real stupid and stop to look. No such luck.

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Brrrrrr!

We get out to call and the dogs take off on the hot trail. I call them back and begin calling. Almost immediately I spot two coyotes about 1/2 mile out and they’re coming but before they could get to us another coyote comes in from the right and I dump him at 100 yards. Both dogs were so focused on the two coyotes that they never did see the one I shot. Fortunately, the shot didn’t seem to spook one of the coyotes and it kept coming. At 250 yards it decided the two dogs running out and back wasn’t natural, it turned and was leaving at a fast clip. This is where it gets tough as the dogs were now in pursuit and I had to get them stopped before taking a shot. They stopped, I locked onto the coyote somewhere around 300 yards and squeezed, fully expecting to get a double on this stand. No such luck. The coyote took off with two dogs in hot pursuit. I didn’t tone them back as I figured with the deep snow they would give up the chase in no time. Besides, I had a coyote to skin and they’d for sure be back by the time he was in the bag. Nope! Wasn’t to be. As I’m making the last cut and pulling the hide free, only one dog was coming back. And much to my surprise, it was Dash! Hmm, Bubba is much smarter than this, he wouldn’t have stayed on the coyote unless it was wounded. As we all know, a wounded coyote can run a heck of a long ways. I waited around for another 30 minutes and was getting real worried. They took off parallel to the road so I drove back to the county road and drove down it 5 miles and back. Still no dog. By now about 1 1/2 hours had passed since the shot and I wasn’t having any warm fuzzy feelings about the whole situation. I was hunting on BLM land, all the trails were impassable and there’s no cross country travel allowed. The only option was to strap on snowshoes, put a flashlight and power bar in my pocket and take off on their trail. I had no idea how far he went but was going to walk as far as I needed to find him. I topped a hill about a mile into the journey and was able to see across a large open flat and up another hill. As always, there’s a predator call in my pocket and I pulled it out and blew like an idiot. Much to my relief, I see movement way across the flat and up on the other hill. Yep, it’s the Wonder Dog and he’s slowly backtracking. I was pretty darn happy and patiently waited for him to get back to me. No telling how far he ran the coyote, or if he finally caught it. I suspect he did, but I wasn’t going to walk his trail to find out. We called it a day after that and drove on back to the trailer.

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So to wrap this segment up, I don’t know where Waldo is, but I do know Bubba’s laying outside on his quilt, ready to go another day! But, the anxiety over a lost dog did add another wrinkle to this story. That’s next.

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Great read. . . . as always. So do you find the action slows when the snow is deep and it is bitter cold? Ever since the Christmas blizzard I haven't seen much, tracks or anything.
 
Mike you are a teaze!!!! I was expecting great glory pics of you and the dogs. Oh well, Bubba is better looking than you anyway, lol. Can't wait to read the next one.
 
Good read! I would like to tell you that I had the same thing happen to me today except I only had one dog (Grey aka swiper)((swiper no swiping, for those of you that have kids)) oh and we didn't have any snow, and it was 70 degrees and calm winds and ... ok I'm ready for the rest of your great story!
 
The following day we drove 50 west of the camper trying to find less snow. No such luck, matter of fact, there was more. The new snowshoes are well broke in by now. This was one of those beautiful days where the sun shines, no wind and snow glistens and sparkles. What more could I ask for other than coyotes coming to the call. Which they didn’t. We saw several but they just wouldn’t respond. Case in point, from one hillside I could see 12 different coyotes in 5 different groups. They were from 3/4 to 1 1/2 mile away but none would give us the time of day. I called for 20 minutes and was about to give up when I noticed one solitary coyote quit mousing and turn to look our way. I kept up with the calling and it finally decided to commit. At minute 30, she was at 200 yards, both dogs were within 50 yards of her and I was dropping the hammer. That was it for for the day. I saw 17 coyotes but only one came to the call. Geez, this was becoming real work.

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I’m just about to skin this coyote when I discover a real bad thing. My custom, handmade, forged, super duper skinning knife was not in the fanny pack. The sheath was, but not the knife. I’ve lost a few knives in my time but never a handmade knife that cost upwards of $200! I was not a happy camper and was wracking my brain trying to think of where it could have fallen out of the sheath. I’ve never found any of my lost knives so figured this one was gone too.

The day ended just as it began, with the sun on the horizon. Makes for a pretty picture.
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The following morning we headed back to where we stopped off the day before. Found this critter frozen to the road. Care to guess what he is?
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Times up, it’s a swift fox. They’re a protected species here in Montana. Up until 5 years ago the chances of seeing one was slim to none. Swift foxes were trapped in Canada and relocated to northern Montana and have since done very well. Their range and population is slowly expanding and this is the first road killed fox I’ve come across. The GPS is in the picture for a size comparison. As you can see, they’re no bigger than a house cat. Neat little canids that are almost completely nocturnal. I’ve never seen them out during the day.

It was another very cold morning and absolutely nothing was stirring. Even the deer were bedded down and would only move their heads to look in my direction.
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No matter how far I got from the county road, the results were the same.

Around noon I stopped at a ranch house to ask permission to hunt. The rancher said there was a group of coyote hunters, who also had a couple of dogs hunting his place yesterday! That could explain why the coyotes were throwing their noses up at my enticing dinner calls, they’d already been fooled. He also mentioned the government trapper had been in the area earlier in the year and had real good luck about 2 miles from his house, by “the tree”! Aha, a tip. You see, we don’t have many trees on the wind swept plains of Northern Montana. I thanked him and began my quest for “the tree”. I found it, about 1 1/2 miles from the county road. I strapped on the snowshoes and away we go. I saw a coyote crossing a wheat field as we were walking in. That was a good sign because it meant they were up and moving around now. Me and the dogs finally get into position and begin the calling routine. In no time, four coyotes were up and coming. Three of them hang up way back and one slowly ventures on in. Eventually it comes up out of the coulee and into the wheat field we’re sitting in. The hunting has been so slow I don’t even try to see if the dogs can bring it any closer, and dump her at 200 yards.

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“The tree” is along the creek, just outside of the picture frame on the left.

Remember the 12 coyotes from the day before. I was only 3 miles from the spot and just couldn’t let it rest. Instead of trying to lure the coyotes away from the CRP, I would get as close as possible with the pickup (the rancher was feeding cows right next to them), then sneak into the CRP. I was hoping the dogs would be the secret weapon and get the coyotes to defend their territory. Well, it didn’t work that way.

We get into the CRP undetected and I let loose with a high pitched mouse call. Almost immediately a coyote lifts its’ head, sees the dogs, and begins to very slowly creep closer. Several minutes later it’s only 300 yards and not getting any closer. All I could see was the neck and head and knew that was as good as it was going to get. One of the added advantages of the dogs is in a situation like this, the coyote is going to stare at them and not move, allowing plenty of time to get a great rest and slowly squeeze. The coyote was down at the shot but since the dogs had no idea where it was, they took off through the CRP, upwind of the dead coyote, busting out the other 11 coyotes in the process! There were coyotes going everywhere and neither Bubba or Dash could figure out why they weren’t falling over dead. They eventually come back and found the dead coyote. In the meantime, I’d moved further into the CRP, hoping for another curious coyote. By the time the dogs caught up with me, I was crawling to two more coyotes. Bubba knows when I’m crawling there’s a coyote somewhere up ahead. He takes off with Dash happily following. The coyotes see the dogs and freeze. This allows time to crawl another 10 yards to a slight rise, which enables me to take a prone shot. Coyote two is down and the dogs run past this one as well and more coyotes run out into the open field. I’m pretty sure we saw all 12 coyotes during this little adventure.


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I’m calling these the John Deere Double!

Ok, remember the lost knife? After two days of looking in the trailer and pickup, I had one more place to look before calling it officially lost. The next morning we head to where Bubba took off. It appears I absentmindedly put the sheath, diamond lap and skinning cord in the pack but left the knife on top of the skinning post! Silly me, must have been worried about the hound.

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One last story and this edition of the Bubba chronicles is done.

It’s late in the day and no coyotes yet. Finally one appears and is coming in. Bubba sees it but just happens to be standing on the wrong side of a cattle guard. From standing still, he literally leaps 4 feet into the air, clears the cattle guard, and on his way. He’s such a cool dog!

I let the dogs have some fun and they bring the coyote right in. Eventually he’s had enough and decides to leave. When it stops for a final look back I pull the trigger. He goes down but is up and running in a flash. By the time Bubba catches up they’re over a rise and I could hear all kinds of commotion going on. Before I got there, Dash comes running back. He’s happy as a kid in a candy store but he should be in the fight on the other side of the hill. I coax him back into the fray, but by now Bubba has everything under control.
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The following day was just like all the previous but with more snow. I couldn’t get down most of the county roads as they were badly drifted over. No coyotes and only saw one. I’d had enough and we headed home.

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Another neat piece of history sprinkled across the landscape here in Montana.
 
Wonderful stories, Mike! Glad you found the knife and the dog!

Looks like that used to be a tractor at one point in history.

Still hoping to make it that way, but it's not looking good for this year. I'll live through you in the meanwhile! Thanks for posting another great story!
 
You make me feel like a wimp...I didn't go this evening because it was 29 degrees...sheesh...I would love to hunt with some dogs like you do...congrats on having a good hunt...Robbie
 
Great story Mike. I was complaining about the cold weather here Saturday, but 5 degrees doesn't seem so bad after reading your story. Had a great day Saturday called in 11 and shot 9.
 
Well knock me over with a feather, looks like my long lost brother decided to make an appearance. Glad to see you're killing a few dogs Greg.

The rest of the family was whining about how cold it got down there and I just had to smile. It's all relative brother!
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Thought I better get on here and see how things were going. Been doing good on calling this year. Take care up there in the great white north it is back up in the 50's here today.
 
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