Single on Sunday

Gents:

 

I went out hunting this past Sunday.  It seems like it’s been ages–first prep for the Shot Show, then down to Las Vegas, then back home and down with the flu.  It seems like it’s been at least a month.  Not acceptable for an AWOLer.

 

Bill and I spent most of the day hoping to get a decent shot at a fox or coyote in Flatlandia.  But no luck.  The coyotes were just too far away and the foxes would jump up and be gone if you slowed down or tried a sneak-back.  What we really needed was a benchrest quality shooter with a .338 Lapua and a brother for a spotter.   Maybe Santa’s sending one…

 

So in the early afternoon we headed back north to the rolling farmland.  We found a couple of great spots to call but I guess the coyotes hadn’t found them yet because they weren’t there.  Just as dusk was approaching, however, we spotted a trail that a farmer had pushed through the snow across his field so we took it to the end and parked behind a small copse of trees.  There was a snowmobile trail cutting across the field from where we’d parked and the snow was hard-packed to within 30-40 yards of a ridge.

 

I’d tried calling earlier in the day but each attempt brought on a fit of coughing so it was up to Bill to do his magic.  I’d brought along a stadium chair to sit in (a pad to sit on, a back rest, but no legs, and foldable) but decided instead to stretch it out and lay down with my bipod resting on the crusted snow atop the ridge.  Unfortunately, I started to get cold right away (when I get ill, I have trouble getting warm again once I get chilled) and I thought about putting myself into a sitting position.  As well, I found that it was a bit difficult to make any type of adjustment if the coyote came in from anywhere but straight ahead–the snow was not as hard as I’d hoped and the bipod broke through.  Being cold, I was reluctant to take off my mits to use beneath the feet of the bipod.

 

Just about the time I was thinking I’d have to sit up, I spotted a coyote out in front and running along the snowmobile track in our direction.  It disappeared for a moment and I was concerned that it might get into our scent zone but it suddenly appeared on the top of a small crest about 125 yds out in front.  I was going to give a quick yell to stop it when I thought of Mike’s dying boot trick–so I bent my leg at the knee and wobbled my foot over my back.  Perfect–the coyote stopped!  A 69-grain Sierra HPBTM  put him into a long-duration sleep.  Good thing because it would have smelled us in another 20 yards.

 

That was it for the day.  Not as much as we’d like, but a great finish none-the-less.

 

Ken