It doesn’t matter if you’ve just started predator hunting or you’ve been at it for decades, you’re going to realize that some of the reasons we do this is the thrill of the chase and the anticipation of the unknown. The countless dry stands fall away from memory, and you start to accumulate those stands that you’ll never forget. Stands with crazy animal interactions, hunts with good friends and family, or just experiencing something completely unexpected. Those are the experiences that stand out. Those are the stands to remember.
In almost 30 years of predator hunting, I’ve had my share of memorable stands. There are those that I remember vividly, and those that will always hold the top spots as my all-time favorites. Whether it was hunting with my daughters or calling in the unexpected, the following stands will forever be at the top of my list.
Jessica’s First Coyote
My youngest daughter Jessica started hunting coyotes with me at the age of 10. After seeing the hunting success of her older sister, she soon came to me asking if she could kill a coyote, too.
Jessica had shot guns with me from about the age of 8, and one thing I realized early on is that she was an amazing shot. After getting her comfortable behind my Ruger .204, I decided it was time to take her predator hunting. I planned an overnight trip in the California desert, just the two of us, where we’d call a few spots on the way out, stay in a hotel out near Bishop and then hunt our way home. I knew with her marksmanship, if I could put a coyote in front of her, she would close the deal.
Just before sundown on our drive out, during our last stand of the day, a lone coyote came in cautiously but spotted something it didn’t like and left without giving Jessica a shot. She was disappointed, but excited that critters were moving. After that, we headed into town, checked into our hotel room and feasted on mini-mart food for dinner. With a full day of calling ahead of us, we turned in early. As we slept, somewhere out there, a fluffy, light-phased coyote was hunting for the last time in the sage-covered flatlands.
We headed out at sunrise, fueled on excitement and a bag of chocolate mini doughnuts. I drove to a couple of familiar roads looking for a good spot to call. A few miles out of town, I spotted a canyon that gave us an amazing view of the surrounding foothills. The wind was nonexistent and with the rising sun at our backs, anything coming in would be looking right into it. This was our spot.
We hiked in and I got Jessica set up. She was seated comfortably about 8 feet to my right, the .204 resting on her shooting sticks. After placing the caller 75 yards out front, I got settled and took a quick photo of my little hunter. After that, we started calling.
After about eight minutes of screaming rodent death, I spotted a fluffy white ball bouncing through the sage about 600 yards out. It was a coyote and it was coming in fast. I whispered to Jessica that we had one way out there coming in. I could hear her breathing change, and I had to calm her a bit. Once she spotted the coyote out at 300 yards, she became even more excited but calmed down and lined up on the running coyote.
Weaving through the sage, the coyote was on the run and didn’t look like it was slowing down. Jessica is an excellent shot, but to give her a chance, the coyote needed to stop. At about 100 yards I asked Jessica if she was on it. She whispered back that she was. I muted the call and let out a sharp bark. The coyote slammed on the brakes and looked up to our position squinting. “Take him!” I whispered. The shot came a second later and Jessica’s first coyote folded there. On that chilly morning in the desert, my youngest daughter became a predator hunter.
Two For One Shotgun Bobcats
I slipped into the creek ravine silently. Looking for spots closer to home, I had scouted this dry creek bed earlier in the week, only 20 minutes from my house. The area held an ample amount of bobcat, coyote and gray fox tracks, and it was clear they used the drainage as a highway. Clocking out of my home office at 5:00, I grabbed my gear and drove to a pullout area above the creek-bottom. Now seated with the sun at my back and my shotgun on my lap, I was ready to start calling.
After 10 minutes of screaming rodent and injured rabbit, nothing was moving. Since it was late in the day, I had already decided that I wasn’t going anywhere. I was just going to stay put and call this spot until last light.
At the 15-minute mark I caught movement way to my right. A beautiful bobcat had silently moved into my killing circle. It was 20 yards from me, broadside and looking right at me. The cat had switched its attention from me to the caller and then back. I was out of position to take the shot. My shotgun was pointing at the 12 o’clock position, and the nervous cat was at 3 o’clock. Moving as slowly as I could, I maneuvered the shotgun to my right. Finally, after five minutes of careful adjustment, I had the bead of the shotgun on the bobcat’s neck and I squeezed the trigger. The cat fell dead there.
I took a few photos and then decided to keep calling. I had maybe 30 minutes of shooting light left and despite the noise of the shotgun blast, I figured I’d just see if I could pull anything else from the creek-bottom. Honestly, I was just happy with the pretty bobcat.
Twenty minutes into the second calling session, I was just about to pack it in, when I spotted an animal creeping through the brush directly in front of me. It was 40 yards out when I spotted it, but it quickly closed the distance to 20 yards, belly crawling to brush near the caller.
Crouching behind the sage, the larger bobcat was out of sight. I raised the shotgun and waited. A full 45-seconds later it peaked out at the side of the brush, looking at the caller. I placed the bead on its nose and squeezed the trigger. My second bobcat of the memorable stand was on the ground. That was the first and last time I scored a shotgun double on bobcats.
Alyssa Calls in a Gray Fox
I’m not going to lie, it felt weird. Here I was on a predator stand and I wasn’t doing the calling. Seated to my left and filling the canyon with rabbit screams was my 10-year-old daughter, Alyssa. She was blowing on a custom call made just for her by a family friend. And to top it off, she sounded amazing. She had been practicing with the bright pink call and that practice had definitely paid off. I was confident that if any predators were close, they’d come check her out.
We were sitting at the edge of Valentine’s Canyon, the name assigned to the area by Alyssa since she made sure every Valentine’s Day, no matter what, we’d head out and call this single stand location. Sitting on our seating pads, above the sage-choked canyon, we had a commanding view of the surrounding area. Focusing on the gaps between the brush, I was looking for movement in the shooting lanes.
Alyssa was on her third calling series, echoing rabbit death off the canyon walls, when a flash of cinnamon-colored fur cut across a game trail 40 yards out. The critter was coming in fast but using every piece of available cover to get close. That’s what gray foxes do. I knew it could pop out anywhere below us and once it spotted us on the ridge, it wouldn’t hang around long.
I glanced at Alyssa and pointed into the canyon. Her eyes got really big and she kept calling. I mounted the shotgun, keeping the barrel pointed toward the brush below. I knew the shot would be quick. Alyssa kept calling.
Less than 30 seconds after spotting the animal, I caught movement below us. The fox had come into about 15 yards, poked its head out of a gap in the brush and spotted Alyssa on the ridge above. It instantly turned itself inside out to retreat. I quickly aimed at the opening and squeezed off a shot. Convinced I would possibly get a second shot as it escaped, we waited.
Leaving Alyssa on the ridge, I scooted down the short hill and started looking through the brush where we had seen the fox. About 5 feet in, I spotted a cinnamon-colored tail in the shadows of the bushes. My 10-year-old daughter had called in a fox, and I had killed it. What a team!
Taking My Wife Calling
With a perfect wind and the sun behind us, we eased into the Nevada canyon. Over the past year, my wife Cheryl has been training to hunt predators. With our adult daughters living lives on their own, literally out of the blue, my wife wanted to start predator hunting with me. Starting with firearm safety, shooting practice and familiarizing her with quick target acquisition, I felt she was ready for a dedicated predator hunt. I had surprised her with the Nevada trip, and once she found out the goal was to put her on a coyote, she was beyond thrilled.
We set up in front of a large bush, and Cheryl picked the right side. Once she was comfortable on her hunting chair, she placed her Remington .22-250 on her shooting sticks and we got ready. I was set up 5 feet to her left.
The rodent-in-distress sound had been playing for eight minutes when I spotted a raven gliding in from the right. While we were used to seeing larger birds respond to the predator call, this one was acting differently. The black bird was dive bombing something unseen in the sage, and it was coming our way. Cheryl saw the commotion at the canyon edge as well. Within seconds, a coyote appeared below us looking toward the call. Cheryl spotted it instantly, but she was out of position for a shot. “Just wait!” I whispered.
For a full minute the coyote looked around, stuck its nose in the air and looked like it was deciding whether to come to the call or move on. We had to change things up. I muted the call and the coyote instantly started moving in. When it dipped behind a large bush, Cheryl moved her setup and waited for it to reappear on the other side. The coyote took two steps back into view and stopped. “There you go!” I whispered. A second later, Cheryl squeezed the trigger and killed her first coyote.
There, on the side of the hill, in the Nevada desert, my wife and I experienced a couple of firsts. After a year of training and trying, Cheryl had finally killed her first coyote. And for me, in over 25 years of predator hunting, that was the very first time I ever received an excited hug and kiss from my hunting partner.
It’s not difficult to see something of a pattern to this list. I realized a long time ago that I found more enjoyment in helping people see why hunting and the outdoors had been such a powerful influence on my life. And participating in that endeavor with my wife and daughters makes it even more special to me. These are the top stands for me, and honestly, I don’t see that ever changing.
