My Dad got me started, at a pretty young age by todays standards I guess. But by "started" I don't mean killing. And while Dad was hunting coyotes a lot in the winters, I only got to go occasionally. Most of his trips were multi day, with a buddy of his. And they were pretty serious about it. At that time, the fur check for a decent winter of calling would pay for a brand new truck.
The four or five times a winter I got to go with, starting when I was about 8 years old, I was mostly just a pack mule. Dad was an early devotee of e-callers. I remember his little Johhny Stewart 45 RPM record player. But he had moved on to other stuff by the time I started going with him. By the time I was going with him, he was using a stupid big and heavy reel to reel tape deck that took what seemed about a couple dozen D cell batteries. That thing seemed to weigh a ton to me. Speaker was a big metal horn speaker with a long cord. I got to carry that too.
Dad took me all kinds of hunting starting from about as early as I can remember. I never lacked for all the .22LR and 12 gauge ammo I could burn. But he wasn't fooling when it came to $100 coyote pelts. In addition to the tape deck and speaker, I was allowed to carry my Rossi .22 pump action Win. 62 copy. But I wasn't allowed to shoot at coyotes on stand. I only got to shoot jackrabbits walking back to the truck after the stand.
But for a few years, I got to see plenty of coyotes called in and killed. Got to see more than a few catch our wind, or see us, or bug out for whatever reason. Got to see kind of what worked and kind of what didn't.
I did kill a few coyote during those years, age about 8 to 12. Targets of opportunity while jackrabbit or bird hunting. But had yet to take a shot on a called coyote.
Dad put it to me plain, early on. Told me I was going to have to my myself a centerfire before I could start shooting on stand, and that I was going to need a deer rifle soon anyway. And that the only sensible thing I could do was buy myself a Model 70 in .270. Sooo... When I was 11, I put a said rifle on lay away at the beginning of summer and mowed lawns to finally bring my prize home. For, I think the princely sum was $180.
On my 12th birthday in Nov., Dad gave me a Leupold M8 4x, base and rings - and a Torel Deluxe "Gunslinger" sling with black snakeskin diamond inlays. Which I still use that sling regularly to this day, it's on my main squeeze calling rifle .17 Predator.
A week later, sitting on stand, new Model 70 cradled lovingly in my arms, I saw the head and chest of a coyote pop up over the top of a rise 70 yards away. Afterward, Dad said he thought I would NEVER shoot. But I didn't want to blow it and took my time and rolled that old dog coyote head over heels backwards.
Been hooked ever since. Soon as I bought my first car, I was getting out by myself with handcalls and my .270. Still have that .270, too.
And for Christmas that same year, I got a Pacific reloading press, a set of RCBS .270 FL dies, one coffee can full of fired .270 brass and another coffee can full of reclaimed 4831 - and a box of Hornay 110 gr. hollow points. Pretty sure I was the only kid in my Jr. High that had a reloading setup in his bedroom or who spent most of his money on primers and bullets.
- DAA
The four or five times a winter I got to go with, starting when I was about 8 years old, I was mostly just a pack mule. Dad was an early devotee of e-callers. I remember his little Johhny Stewart 45 RPM record player. But he had moved on to other stuff by the time I started going with him. By the time I was going with him, he was using a stupid big and heavy reel to reel tape deck that took what seemed about a couple dozen D cell batteries. That thing seemed to weigh a ton to me. Speaker was a big metal horn speaker with a long cord. I got to carry that too.
Dad took me all kinds of hunting starting from about as early as I can remember. I never lacked for all the .22LR and 12 gauge ammo I could burn. But he wasn't fooling when it came to $100 coyote pelts. In addition to the tape deck and speaker, I was allowed to carry my Rossi .22 pump action Win. 62 copy. But I wasn't allowed to shoot at coyotes on stand. I only got to shoot jackrabbits walking back to the truck after the stand.
But for a few years, I got to see plenty of coyotes called in and killed. Got to see more than a few catch our wind, or see us, or bug out for whatever reason. Got to see kind of what worked and kind of what didn't.
I did kill a few coyote during those years, age about 8 to 12. Targets of opportunity while jackrabbit or bird hunting. But had yet to take a shot on a called coyote.
Dad put it to me plain, early on. Told me I was going to have to my myself a centerfire before I could start shooting on stand, and that I was going to need a deer rifle soon anyway. And that the only sensible thing I could do was buy myself a Model 70 in .270. Sooo... When I was 11, I put a said rifle on lay away at the beginning of summer and mowed lawns to finally bring my prize home. For, I think the princely sum was $180.
On my 12th birthday in Nov., Dad gave me a Leupold M8 4x, base and rings - and a Torel Deluxe "Gunslinger" sling with black snakeskin diamond inlays. Which I still use that sling regularly to this day, it's on my main squeeze calling rifle .17 Predator.
A week later, sitting on stand, new Model 70 cradled lovingly in my arms, I saw the head and chest of a coyote pop up over the top of a rise 70 yards away. Afterward, Dad said he thought I would NEVER shoot. But I didn't want to blow it and took my time and rolled that old dog coyote head over heels backwards.
Been hooked ever since. Soon as I bought my first car, I was getting out by myself with handcalls and my .270. Still have that .270, too.
And for Christmas that same year, I got a Pacific reloading press, a set of RCBS .270 FL dies, one coffee can full of fired .270 brass and another coffee can full of reclaimed 4831 - and a box of Hornay 110 gr. hollow points. Pretty sure I was the only kid in my Jr. High that had a reloading setup in his bedroom or who spent most of his money on primers and bullets.
- DAA
