Last week I saw two coyotes harassing a heifer and new born calf about 400 yards off, they broke off before I could get a shot, then two days later my dog Gunner was ambushed by 5 coyotes in the pasture right out my front door. When I heard the melee I grabbed a rifle and charged out to see them about 120 yards out and they were in a 10 ft circle around him. He was growling and barking while they were yipping and spinning. There was no clear shot so I hollered and one broke out to the left a few steps and I nailed him. He was screaming and spinning like one of those fireworks you light and throw on the ground, the rest rocketed off in all directions and I didn't get a second shot. While looking for another shot the first one dragged himself off into the brush. There was enough meat, bone and blood to make me think he definitely can't make it, it was probably a leg hit with a 223 55gr. Gunner was covered in blood but it turned out none was his, must have come from the gunshot yote after the bullet hit while I was occupied watching the others. Gunner was lucky, I don't think they've made the dog yet who could hold his own with a pack of coyotes.
Yesterday mid-morning I had some time to sort this out using my 6.5 Grendel with Hornady 123gr SSTs. The first setup with an old Faulks P60 wood call brought in a lone dog after about 10 minutes who posed for me at about 120 yards, he was dead when he hit the ground. I didn't spend anytime looking for a bullet hole and nothing was obvious.
I walked home and took care of a few chores then was back at it late afternoon. The first afternoon setup was a bust for coyotes. After walking to where I wanted to be the wind was wrong but I gave a few hoots anyway with no coyotes appearing but a gray fox came to see what the commotion was about but hauled ass when I waved my hat at him. I moved over the ridge and tried again and after 30 minutes was just about to give up when a big dog came out of the brush about 220 yards off and stopped facing me. I put one in the front of him that went under the shoulder blade and open his side up. He hit the ground as his guts spilled out leaving his stomach contents on the ground, which included pieces of someones black and white goat. The old Faulks worked again.
I moved a 1/2 mile and had just enough daylight for one more try. I blew the old Faulks for about 15 seconds and was just bringing the rifle up when a big female walked out head on 75 yards out, steep downhill. The bullet took out her vitals and broke her back, DRT.
There's a few more to go but this was a good start. I think this band of terrorists is what happen to my old barn cat Homer.
Yesterday mid-morning I had some time to sort this out using my 6.5 Grendel with Hornady 123gr SSTs. The first setup with an old Faulks P60 wood call brought in a lone dog after about 10 minutes who posed for me at about 120 yards, he was dead when he hit the ground. I didn't spend anytime looking for a bullet hole and nothing was obvious.
I walked home and took care of a few chores then was back at it late afternoon. The first afternoon setup was a bust for coyotes. After walking to where I wanted to be the wind was wrong but I gave a few hoots anyway with no coyotes appearing but a gray fox came to see what the commotion was about but hauled ass when I waved my hat at him. I moved over the ridge and tried again and after 30 minutes was just about to give up when a big dog came out of the brush about 220 yards off and stopped facing me. I put one in the front of him that went under the shoulder blade and open his side up. He hit the ground as his guts spilled out leaving his stomach contents on the ground, which included pieces of someones black and white goat. The old Faulks worked again.
I moved a 1/2 mile and had just enough daylight for one more try. I blew the old Faulks for about 15 seconds and was just bringing the rifle up when a big female walked out head on 75 yards out, steep downhill. The bullet took out her vitals and broke her back, DRT.
There's a few more to go but this was a good start. I think this band of terrorists is what happen to my old barn cat Homer.
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