WOW... after a royal screwing with Wilson Game Calls, it's nice to know that there are still honest guys out there. People that actually care about someone else as a person and not just someone they can shaft and ride on their skirttail. I'm so proud to know Bo and Mitch!
I now have, thanks to these guys, my very own game calls, custom made and great prices! This is my starter line made of ash and can be ordered in pink or natural via sending me an email request. sheribaity@yahoo.com
For right now, we have three types of calls made. Crow Call $15.25 Rabbit Distress $15.25 and Coyote Howler/Bark/Growl $19.25
These calls are awesome. I just got back from the Pocono's this weekend and called in 10 coyotes, 1 red fox and 1 bobcat. I will have them with me in Vermont this weekend.
As time goes on, we will add more types of calls to the list! Stop on by the Yankee Classic and hear those calls sing
The Continental Miss
Have you ever had one of those misses that makes you want to, take off your hat, scratch your head, slap your leg, wrinkle up your face and say to yourself, “What the “H” just happened?” It’s as if you just entered the gates to the twilight zone or something. You are left with so many questions and not an answer in sight.
It’s those times that I just set back and laugh. I find myself laughing so hard at just the scenario of the miss that I completely forget to chamber another bullet and let loose, as I watch the coyote kick in the after burners as he heads for the horizon. I guess I learned that from my Dad. He was the master at making laughter in life. He always told me to smile and laugh, “It makes the world wonder what you’ve been up to,” he’d say with a million dollar grin.
Going through life, I’ve always wanted to hear about those funny misses in hunting from anyone I talked to. Not only is it usually good for a laugh, but deep down inside, it’s good to know that “I’m” not alone.
I’ll never forget my most funniest, mixed with ironic messages, biggest blunder of my coyote hunting history, well at least to this date. I’m sure there will be a topper to this one down the road as time goes by.
It was the first day of rifle deer season here in Pennsylvania. The day was growing long about 3 p.m. or so. The snow was just starting to settle in over the frozen hayfields. I caught a glimpse of a moving object over across the valley on top of another field, a little over 600 yards, moving my way. I quickly picked up my binoculars and with my surprise, realized it was a coyote trotting. He was mousing along and would stop every now and then and look around. I remember him even setting down for a few seconds.
Now, if your mind is anything like mine is, quickly I started praying. “Please let that coyote come all the way over here on my field!” “Please don’t let me miss!” “Please don’t let him turn and go into the swamp!” There were so many “Pleases” that I lost count and I’m sure whoever was listening lost count as well. What was actually only minutes seemed like hours.
He made his way down into the valley that separated the two hayfields. I’m thinking right away that he will head to the swamp then while staying next to the hedgerow used for cover. As much to my surprise out he came into the bottom and started up my hill towards the top field. He was closing in the distance. Then, out came a few more prayers. “Please let him stop so that I can get a good steady shot!” “Please don’t let him see me up here,” and on and on.
Then, as if my messages had been just carried up in smoke signals, my prayers were starting to be answered, or so I thought. While still on the side hill, he stopped. He sniffed around and circled a little jig and got into position, for what I thought would be the most perfect opportunity. His back humped up and out it came! He was leaving me a big pile of scat.
I right away thought, “The nerve of that coyote coming all this distance into my part to basically poop on my parade!” Of course my next thought was, “Well, I’ll teach him!”
Being as I watched him coming from 600 + yards, I was already down to my rifle stock and ready for the shot. I started squeezing my trigger slowly, keeping aim and making sure I had a firm hold on my rifle, just at the top of his back at the highest part of the hump. After all, “I wasn’t going to mess this up!”
Just as I was about fully squeezed on the trigger to release the bullet, he was done and quickly straightened his back. My aim was now headed straight over his back as the bang came and the bullet went flying. He stood there for a second looking my way and off he went.
After I got done laughing I took my range finder and ranged the only evidence I had that he was even there, his scat. That was an 82yard shot that I had just blown and I bet to this day, that coyote is telling his kin about the day he left a hunter a nice present right in front of her eyes, and got away with it. The only other option that even came to my mind at that very moment was to laugh! And laugh I did, at the entire picture, at the coyote for what he got away with and most definitely at myself.
I think back on seeing those deer tails that are mounted for the one that got away… I guess I could have dried the scat and put it in a shadow box or something, but even though my family already knows I am half nuts, I’m sure this would have been my ticket to the mental hospital.
