All started simple enough. I made my way to the backyard where my tree stand sat above the extension ladder I secured to the side of an old maple. My goal was to get the nice-looking eight-point I had seen each of the last six nights at 6:30pm on film. And sure enough as I sat there camera in hand that three year old prince pranced out into the knee high soy as proud and pompous as the emperor in his new clothes. I put the camera to eye focused and hit record. Just then as if that buck realized he was in fact naked he became suddenly camera shy. I have had similar situations occur in some, well, slightly uncomfortable dreams and understood his pain. Not puzzled by my empathy I still wondered what brought his strange predicament to his attention. An answer came sounding in the wind seconds after his departure in the form of a choir of coyote calling to that night’s full moon. Deer be danged, I was go’n’-a-hunt’n’. So I quickly took off my bush n a bag packed it in its pouch and tossed it to the ground. I hooked the camera to my pull line and lowered it safely to the ground. I made my way down the old aluminum ladder and quickly went to the house to call my buddy and hunting partner extraordinaire Roger that long bearded blue grass saint of ancient hunting lore and told him of the cacophony called just minutes prior. I asked Roger if he could join me on that nights hunt. Sadly it was not to be. As fate was to have it I would fly solo, both cameraman and hunter. I was to take on two difficult tasks at the same time bagging a coyote both by gun and by camera. 

Having been averaging about two hunts a week getting ready was a breeze. I had everything already laid out. So within moments I was off to the log pile next to where I had seen plenty of coyote signs for the last few weeks. I somehow just knew that I was going to experience something that night. After a couple of weeks of unanswered calls, and one chuckler of a night where a coyote jumped Roger and I at fifteen feet, I was ready for something spectacular. With the sun beginning to set into the muddled gray of clouds to my left and the full moon rising to my right, I made my way down the dirt road that ran between my corn field and the trees that line the neighbors soy field I had been observing just minutes earlier. I don’t know why but when I got to that log pile I decided to go back further across the stream to the CPR field where I thought those coyote would be hunting for small rodents. And as usual I thought just a little too hard ignoring my first choice of the log pile. I called for thirty uneventful minutes in that back field. After calling for what was becoming a recognizable chapter of unanswered calls I made my way back to the log pile reconciled with the fact that I had already made to much commotion and had more than likely messed up that nights hunting. But as I crossed the bridge over the stream coming to the corner of the cornfield eight young coyotes played to my right along the end of the corn field. I couldn’t believe it. Slowly I walked past the opening without raising alarm and made my way to the log pile. Luckily for me I seemed to make it unnoticed. Only moments after taking position on top of the log pile a passing ambulance in the distance sparked another round of coyote calls, which to my surprise came from right behind me in the corn field. Close enough t o raise the hairs on the back of my neck. Those coyotes were easily within a hundred yards, and there were several of them. Immediately the cooling night air was breathing with the labored sounds of barking. 

I was surrounded. I was frightened. I was excited. I waited fifteen of the longest minutes I have ever experienced and began a round of calls with my little hand held electronic caller that I had to that point written off as ineffective but was limited to since my good megaphone caller took ill and quit working the week before. I could only pray that it would be loud enough. I sounded a howl. It was answered by a bark. I sounded another and was answered the same. I waited a few minutes and sounded a howl immediately followed by pup yelps. Again a round of barks answered. I waited another couple of minutes and sounded a high pitch cotton-tail, and this time instead of barks I was alarmed by the snap of a corn stock very close behind me. I waited only seconds this time, when to my right as if they just appeared, six coyotes sniffed the ground investigating a possible snack. A quick glance to my left revealed another five and the sounds behind me could only mean more. My heart was pounding out of my chest; I could feel the rush of adrenaline course its way over my body. I needed to turn on the camera but I was too exposed and didn’t want to make too many movements. I sat there for about another thirty seconds or so with my 12ga. in hand watching those eleven coyote sniff the air and make circles trying to figure out what was going on. I was right out in the open on the top of that log pile and those dogs had no clue where or what I was. I couldn’t believe it. All of those coyotes were within thirty yards, and that’s where they were staying so I slowly reached to my hand held caller and hit by mistake a jackrabbit call very clearly getting their attention. I raised my gun and as one daring young coyote made its way to ten feet from where I sat I fired a single shot dropping that dog in its tracks as the rest scattered in all directions. 

I sat for about another two or three or ten minutes waiting in disbelief as my heart continued to beat anxiously and my body shivered. Ten feet, I had just shot a coyote from ten feet and it had no idea I was there. And neither did the other ten plus dogs that were there within twenty yards of me. Though I had really screwed the pooch, this time. Chris and Kenny would be excited for me for sure but they were going to be very saddened that this hunt was not on film. That bush-n-a –bag had done the trick again. I was concealed from eleven coyotes that I could see and more I couldn’t. The camouflage of the bush-n-a-bag had once again proven its worth. Though proved itself so good that I had little time to react to what was happening. I was left with the choice of video or gun, I chose gun—though not without slight lament, since this was an experience I would like to have watched over and over, and Chris and Kenny had expected to watch over and over. Like Charlie Brown trying to kick the ball only to be yanked by Lucy at the last minute, I to had come so close to what could have been the greatest predator video of the summer. One that would have given me bragging rights and my friends the credit their product deserves. Nothing was lost though and in fact truth be told I experienced the most exciting hunt I have ever experienced to date thanks again to bush-n-a-bag. This experience was followed the next day with an exciting hunt with Roger from the same spot. 

Till next time—your friend in the woods, 

Steve Sommers