Jonathan Hinde | New Mexico
My friend, Logan, went on his first hunt a month ago — a dove hunt. It was such a successful hunt that I decided to see if he was ready for his first coyote hunt. He’ll be joining the Air Force soon, so we have been trying to squeeze in as much hunting as possible.
On the first stand we had a song dog hang up at about 90 yards — not quite in reach of my Benelli. The second stand produced nothing but a swarm of gnats, but we remained hopeful. For the third stand we snuck out of my car, which was located just over a rise from a pond bed. We ducked down into the mesquite and creosote brush and started calling. I threw in some lone howls from my Primos Lil' Dog, too.
About 20 minutes into the set I hear some rocks crumbling down the hillside, and then a loud, "Hey," resonates from the opposite side of the hill. The coyote-stopping sound was shortly followed by the joyous crack of a Remington R-15 sending 55-grains of Hornady V-Max through the coyote’s heart. That’s when I see a big male coyote laying at the bottom of the hill. Good job Logan!
Thanks to Predator Xtreme for great advice over the years. Keep calling, everybody. If it doesn't work, call some more!
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