mikegranger
Active member
You old timers to Predator Masters already know I have this great dog named Bubba. For the new folks, this is Bubba.
He’s a mountain cur and this is his 5th year of hunting. Bubba absolutely loves coyote hunting and has been pestering me relentlessly during October to do so. Only thing that’s stopped me was waiting for the furs to prime. I skin and sell all our coyotes and don’t shoot them when the furs are of no value. I have a self imposed moratorium of waiting until November 1. As the end of October rolled around, Bubba was jumping into the back of the truck whenever let out of the kennel and would just sit there with big droopy eyes begging to go. Little did he know I was planning a major excursion. This is our story of a 10 day coyote hunting expedition. I’m going to do something a little different than normal. Since we were gone so long and have far too many unique experiences to include in a single story, I’m going to add a little each day or so and will just change the volume number so everyone can readily tell something new has been added. Here we go!
Whitey is my 1968 Holiday Rambler trailer.
The inside is practically immaculate and everything works. Since I like old things, we are very happy together. Whitey, Bubba and I left for places unknown on Halloween. The lovely wife was going to pass out candy, and I had already voted absentee. Nothing was holding us back. Bubba was giddy with excitement. While driving down the road he would stand on the wheel well to bawl and bark at anything and everything. A few hours later we are set up in the middle of nowhere and just enough time to make one stand before dark. Nothing came in but it was a wonderful opportunity to work out the kinks of a long summer. That night I sat in the camper and listened to the political pundits jabbering endlessly the radio, which of course centered around Obama.
November 1 was absolutely beautiful. No clouds, no wind (which is a rarity in eastern Montana) and a beautiful sunrise. First shooting light was around 0800 and we were on stand singing “the coyotes got me and I’m a dying rabbit” blues with a brand new Tony Tebbe call. Tony knows I’m a die hard hand caller and with over 30 years of calling under my belt, have only sat on stands less than a handful of times with someone using an electronic caller. Nothing against electronic calls, they’re just not my cup of tea. I digress. Anyway, Tony sent me a couple of calls last spring after learning I had lost one of my all time favorite calls. A fully custom handmade thing of beauty which sits on a shelf, and the other a cyanide mini. The mini went in the calling bag.
Bubba and I had walked into a very cool looking coulee and began calling with the cyanide mini. While glassing, I spotted to nice whitetail bucks bedded on a ridge 1/3 mile away. I kept looking for coyotes and sizing up the bucks. One was a very respectable 4 point (8 pointer by eastern standards) and the other a nice 5 pointer. It’s deer season and my plan was if a coyote didn’t come, Bubba was going into the kennel, I was putting on the orange and going for a closer look. Nothing came and not 10 seconds after standing up I notice movement in the coulee below us and there was our first coyote of the season. He saw Bubba and vice versa. The coyote comes closer, Bubba goes out to bring him back and I immediately forgot about the deer. As the coyote circles downwind, he stops when Bubba barked, and met his demise. At the shot I looked back to where the deer were and the two had already bounded out of sight but much to my amazement and chagrin, a really, really nice buck had been bedded down out of view and was bounding over the ridge. I could easily see his rack way above his head and out beyond the ears............ The wind was perfect for a sneak and I would have been out of sight the whole way...........But, what the heck, I was coyote hunting and we had one down!
But, being the die hard deer hunter too, I quickly donned the appropriate colored clothing and went to look to see if the big boy was really stupid and had stopped on the other side of the ridge. He didn’t, but while I was looking, a rancher came by on a 4 wheeler herding 4 cows. He couldn’t believe I was out hunting in the middle of nowhere. His comments were “this pasture is 9 sections and I never see anyone up here”. “Perfect” was the word running through my head!
The lack of wind was short lived and by noon my hat wouldn’t stay on my head. I try calling deep cuts in coulees when it’s so windy. While walking into the wind towards one particular coulee the hat blew off twice! Had to be at least 20 mph winds. Pure luck is rather important with such winds and this time I got lucky. At the first call a coyote stands up 150 yards away. The wind was blowing so hard, I could see it’s fur waving, similar to how tall grass will blow in the wind, with each gust. I shoot a Dtech .204 AR15. It’s the most accurate gun I own, but the wind wreaks havoc on the 35 grain Berger bullet. I won’t shoot at a coyote looking straight at me in such strong winds but wait for them to turn broadside. This one was broadside so all I had to do was allow 15 inches or so of windage and slowly squeeze the Jewel trigger. It fell over backwards at the shot. I’ll take luck any day! That was it for day one. Two coyotes, saw some nice bucks, walked 6 miles per the pedometer, and didn’t see another hunter! Oh, and Bubba was finally happy!
He’s a mountain cur and this is his 5th year of hunting. Bubba absolutely loves coyote hunting and has been pestering me relentlessly during October to do so. Only thing that’s stopped me was waiting for the furs to prime. I skin and sell all our coyotes and don’t shoot them when the furs are of no value. I have a self imposed moratorium of waiting until November 1. As the end of October rolled around, Bubba was jumping into the back of the truck whenever let out of the kennel and would just sit there with big droopy eyes begging to go. Little did he know I was planning a major excursion. This is our story of a 10 day coyote hunting expedition. I’m going to do something a little different than normal. Since we were gone so long and have far too many unique experiences to include in a single story, I’m going to add a little each day or so and will just change the volume number so everyone can readily tell something new has been added. Here we go!
Whitey is my 1968 Holiday Rambler trailer.
The inside is practically immaculate and everything works. Since I like old things, we are very happy together. Whitey, Bubba and I left for places unknown on Halloween. The lovely wife was going to pass out candy, and I had already voted absentee. Nothing was holding us back. Bubba was giddy with excitement. While driving down the road he would stand on the wheel well to bawl and bark at anything and everything. A few hours later we are set up in the middle of nowhere and just enough time to make one stand before dark. Nothing came in but it was a wonderful opportunity to work out the kinks of a long summer. That night I sat in the camper and listened to the political pundits jabbering endlessly the radio, which of course centered around Obama.
November 1 was absolutely beautiful. No clouds, no wind (which is a rarity in eastern Montana) and a beautiful sunrise. First shooting light was around 0800 and we were on stand singing “the coyotes got me and I’m a dying rabbit” blues with a brand new Tony Tebbe call. Tony knows I’m a die hard hand caller and with over 30 years of calling under my belt, have only sat on stands less than a handful of times with someone using an electronic caller. Nothing against electronic calls, they’re just not my cup of tea. I digress. Anyway, Tony sent me a couple of calls last spring after learning I had lost one of my all time favorite calls. A fully custom handmade thing of beauty which sits on a shelf, and the other a cyanide mini. The mini went in the calling bag.
Bubba and I had walked into a very cool looking coulee and began calling with the cyanide mini. While glassing, I spotted to nice whitetail bucks bedded on a ridge 1/3 mile away. I kept looking for coyotes and sizing up the bucks. One was a very respectable 4 point (8 pointer by eastern standards) and the other a nice 5 pointer. It’s deer season and my plan was if a coyote didn’t come, Bubba was going into the kennel, I was putting on the orange and going for a closer look. Nothing came and not 10 seconds after standing up I notice movement in the coulee below us and there was our first coyote of the season. He saw Bubba and vice versa. The coyote comes closer, Bubba goes out to bring him back and I immediately forgot about the deer. As the coyote circles downwind, he stops when Bubba barked, and met his demise. At the shot I looked back to where the deer were and the two had already bounded out of sight but much to my amazement and chagrin, a really, really nice buck had been bedded down out of view and was bounding over the ridge. I could easily see his rack way above his head and out beyond the ears............ The wind was perfect for a sneak and I would have been out of sight the whole way...........But, what the heck, I was coyote hunting and we had one down!
But, being the die hard deer hunter too, I quickly donned the appropriate colored clothing and went to look to see if the big boy was really stupid and had stopped on the other side of the ridge. He didn’t, but while I was looking, a rancher came by on a 4 wheeler herding 4 cows. He couldn’t believe I was out hunting in the middle of nowhere. His comments were “this pasture is 9 sections and I never see anyone up here”. “Perfect” was the word running through my head!
The lack of wind was short lived and by noon my hat wouldn’t stay on my head. I try calling deep cuts in coulees when it’s so windy. While walking into the wind towards one particular coulee the hat blew off twice! Had to be at least 20 mph winds. Pure luck is rather important with such winds and this time I got lucky. At the first call a coyote stands up 150 yards away. The wind was blowing so hard, I could see it’s fur waving, similar to how tall grass will blow in the wind, with each gust. I shoot a Dtech .204 AR15. It’s the most accurate gun I own, but the wind wreaks havoc on the 35 grain Berger bullet. I won’t shoot at a coyote looking straight at me in such strong winds but wait for them to turn broadside. This one was broadside so all I had to do was allow 15 inches or so of windage and slowly squeeze the Jewel trigger. It fell over backwards at the shot. I’ll take luck any day! That was it for day one. Two coyotes, saw some nice bucks, walked 6 miles per the pedometer, and didn’t see another hunter! Oh, and Bubba was finally happy!
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