I have always called coyotes when I was after them but never passed up shooting one while feeding or checking water and definitely never passed the opportunity to knock one off of a carcass! Never had a "bait pile" but did have a spot 600 yards or so up the canyon from the house where we'd drag a dead cow if we lost one in the corrals due to sickness or difficulty calving. We could see 'yotes from the door or as we pulled into the yard when they were there so yeah, I guess we did have a pile. It was more for the convenience of having eyes on them before they knew they were being looked at. I think dad picked the spot so us kids could take advantage of it. Growing up, my two younger brothers and I were sure enough feral or at least that's what mom said! If we weren't doing homework or working, we were toting guns, bows, slingshots or, hell, even sticks and rocks around hunting rabbits, rock squirrels, coyote or whatever we could scare up out of the sandstone and cedar canyons that we called home. Not very often did we have a cow die around close enough to the house that we would drag it up there, but when we did, we would regularly shoot coyotes from the yard over the hood of the pickup or we'd play the wind and sneak up one side side of the canyon or the other from the house using cedars as cover and get in for a closer shot. I now carry a Rem 700 25-06 to hunt big game that was Dad's at the time. I watched him one day patiently wait with that rifle leaned over a corner post of our house trap aiming up the canyon. I could see a couple coyotes from where I was at the house feeding on a carcass but I couldn't figure out why he wasn't shooting. Before long, the crack of that rifle went off. One coyote fell where he stood and the other with a broken back was dragging his hind end for the cedars. I was probably twelve or thirteen at the time. Now I knew why it took him so long to shoot, he was waiting for them to make the mistake of lining up with each other! Dad just smiled at me as I trotted by him with 22 in hand and two heeler dogs and a barn cat in tow. Those dang dogs and cat.... The heelers were cow dogs first and good ones. Dad didn't tolerate them if they weren't. Second, they were our hunting dogs. As soon as they heard a shot or seen us kids packing a gun, they were on us like white on rice! They went everywhere with us as did that little Siamese barn cat. Couldn't count the number of rabbits that cat would flush out of a cedar for us, usually to be rewarded with a rabbit of it's own when we were done hunting. Anyway, once we got to the carcass, the dogs chewed on the dead one for a bit until I could call them off and got them lined out on the trail left by the other. Didn't take them long to have him hemmed up under a cedar another hundred yards up the canyon between a couple big sand stone boulders. They 'bout had him killed when the cat and I caught up with them. Got the dogs off of him long enough to put him down while the dang cat watched from atop one of the boulders next to the tree. Dogs were tickled pink that they'd caught a coyote and the cat I'm sure was disappointed that it wasn't getting a rabbit snack for his troubles! I stepped the shot off from the place of dad's shot to the corner post on my way back. 580 yards! To this day, I haven't bested that shot. Sure makes me smile when I think back to memories like that.
Haha, all that just to get to the point of why I started typing! We never did this near our "pile", but I wonder if using an e-call near a pile and playing a fight would pull coyotes out of the brush sooner than waiting for their stomachs to tell them it was time to return? Sorry for the long winded story to end in a one sentence reply! LOL