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1 hat s close enough
Then, he got down on all fours, and I couldn’t see him as well as I could when he had been standing. The largest of the olive bushes began to shake rather vigorously, and I started to question the wisdom of sneaking up on this fellow. I started backing away, slowly. He came walking out of the olive bushes, headed away from me. I put the scope on him. I whistled. He stopped and looked back at me, as much as to say, “Now, what do YOU want.” I put the gun down and he went on his way. I smiled.
I looked for any sign that I had hit the coyote. There was no hair, no blood, no nothing. I searched every hummock and bramble and thicket in the area for over an hour. Nothing. I had missed cleanly. The best kind of miss, if you have to miss. Wily coyote, 1; road runner, 0, this time.
A successful hunt .
I walked back to the truck. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was practically singing. I was happy, content, and grateful for the best hunting experience I had had in a long time. And, I repeat what I know I have said here before, if you judge the success of your time afield by the weight of your game bag, you have missed an awful lot that hunting has to offer.
And, that, my friend, is a real, true hunting story. Until next time, stay well, and keep your powder diy.
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