king' s outdoor world - Index

king' s outdoor world - Hunting Illustrated - October/November 2007 - Index

PHOTOS: AUTHOR
H
ave
ave you ever had one of those
magical days calling predators
when every call leaves you
with an intense anticipation of
what might show up? And then it
happens, your vision instantly clears
and your attention is focused on the
predator in sight. We all live for this
moment. It's these intense feelings
of accomplishment and the need to
succeed that drives us to "just one
more call.? My brother Steve and I
call it "Living the Dream.?
One morning last December
as we sat in the pickup, the horizon
and rim rocks started to take shape.
The sound of freezing rain was steady
on the windshield as our breath began
to fog the windows. "What should
we do?? We didn't really want to
get out into the rain. We would have
been soaked in ten minutes! I said
to Steve, "Let's wait it out.? Thirty
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PREDATORS
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Living The Dream
Calling multiples in one stand.
minutes later the rain slowed to a drizzle
and we stepped out into the morning
air and decided to go for it. We set up
on an elevated stand that overlooked a
large basin of lava rock, cheatgrass and
farmland in the distance. After two short
sequences of rabbit distress, I spotted a
coyote standing like a silhouette on an
outcrop of lava rock 400 yards below.
After some coaxing, he stepped off his
perch and slowly trotted in our direction.
Ten minutes later he broke over the hill
at 200 yards on a steady run. At 50 yards
he pulled up to take a look, only to
stare down the pipe of Steve's 22-250.
Steve's 55-grain V-max crushed the
coyote's left shoulder and it was over. I
motioned at Steve to stay put as I ripped
off a howl and started into another
sequence of jackrabbit distress. The rain
had now stopped and I could see another
coyote a half-mile or more out in the
bottom of the basin. The coyote was not
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Ron Talbot
responding, so I howled again and
used some feeding magpie sounds
from our FoxPro caller. The coyote
then looked our way and started
toward us. I was concentrating on
the approaching coyote when Steve
suddenly wheeled his 22-250 in
the opposite direction. I spun my
video camera from the coyote on the
flat toward Steve. His smoke pole
cut loose again and echoed with a
heavy bass-like report. I knew he
had connected but I hadn't seen it.
Steve held up two fingers and smiled
like he had just won the lottery. He
whispered that a second coyote had
come from the same place as the
first and he had shot it as it turned
to leave. I went back to the coyote
on the flat, but he was heading off in
the opposite direction. Twenty-five
minutes into our call, I hit the howler
again and went back to some magpie