Australian Adventure

THE LURE OF THE COYOTE

By Ed Moody

Not too many hunting seasons ago, fox were fair game, allowed to be hunted 24 hours a day seven days a week. Back then it was common for a close knit group of sportsmen and their dogs to head for Carroll, Harrison or Jefferson counties for a weekend of fox hunting. "Camp", set-up on the highest hill in the neighborhood wasn't anything fancy, at least when compared to today's campsites. A tarp stretched between trees more or less provided shelter when needed. Rain or snow were our main concerns as a never-ending fire was needed to keep bones warm, coffee hot and chili steaming.

Except for the constantly stewing pot of chili, meals consisted of whatever was handy when we left home. Chili and hard-crust bread for breakfast really wasn't that unappetizing, especially after a long night of chasing after dogs and fox.

We'd sit on a predominate hill listening to the baying of hounds until their baying came from a constant location. Then it was into the back of a pickup and head for the dogs. More often than not, the hounds had treed a raccoon, not cornered a fox.

When the weekend was over, men and dogs alike would return home bone weary, hungry and extremely battered. Men battered from rushing into unseen limbs during a dash to the pack, dogs from chasing fox without stop. Back then there were more cunning fox than good hounds. That activity came to a screeching halt when fox were placed on the game list for fur bearers.

As the fox hounds grew old and retired, going the way of most canines, their two-legged hunting companions just grew old and cantankerous.

Replacing those marvelous weekends is an evening or early morning of coyote calling from the same hilltops. Because of the coyote's willingness to tangle with dogs, and their ability to beat the living tar out of them, dogs are left at home.

Stepping into the scene, introducing the old fox-hound men to the sport of successful coyote calling are game call makers, Alex Vedrinski and Rick Barone, partners in Chestnut Ridge Game Calls. Although more known for his turkey calls, the big man of the two, Vedrinski, is a highly respected coyote caller.

"Like a gray ghost, the coyote came charging over the crest of the hill just yards in front of me. He was here and long gone before I could react," recalled the rugged Vedrinski.

Alex, his partner and I were sitting on top of a ridge within the Brush Creek Wildlife Area of Columbiana County listening for a coyote howl as stories were being told. Alex was telling and possibly fabricating yarns covering his adventures and misadventures of luring predators into range of camera or gun. "When calling coyotes in dense woods, the elusive animal has methods to sneak up on you. After a close encounter with a night prowling coyote, I'm shaking so hard it would be nearly impossible to pour a cup of coffee," said the often smiling Vedrinski. "They can be so unafraid and brazen they have passed within touching distance of me," reported Barone.

Vedrinski has been calling fox for more years than he cares to admit. Ever since coyotes brought their sheep killing ways back into Ohio, Vedrinski, to the wool producers' satisfaction, has concentrated on coyotes. What spare time the two call makers now have is filled with calling predators and perfecting their game calls. There seem to be no lack of farms on which coyote hunters are more than welcome to hunt.

Vedrinski would like to see more sportsmen offering assistance to farmers and livestock producers by reducing the number of sheep and poultry killing coyotes. Coyotes have become so familiar with the traits of humans they do not hesitate to roam through barnyards, picking up a chicken for dinner. A good case in point happened in eastern Stark County when three coyotes attacked a farmyard dog while the farmer was in plain sight.

"Wool producers in heavily wooded counties such as Jefferson, Harrison, Morrow, and Columbiana counties sure could use the help of coyote hunters," the big man said.

"Coyotes are fairly easy to call in. They're real bold." Relating to earlier experiences, Vedrinski reported that coyotes certainly are not afraid of anything. "If a dog is in the woods eating a rabbit, a coyote will probably eat the dog before having the rabbit for dessert." There are no real secrets to coyote calling, "Just set up on a vantage point and make noises like a screaming rabbit in distress. It helps to be completely camouflaged as when deer hunting in archery season."

When calling, the duo prefers to settle in at the base of a tree, surrounded by brush. "This breaks up our silhouette, and hopefully gives us an advantage over the predator."

Questioned about how close they have actually called in coyotes, the two men's faces reflected big smiles that alert listeners to the fact that a real tale is about to unfold.

"A few years back we received a telephone call from a sheep farmer telling us coyotes were believed to have downed a half-dozen lambs during the past several nights. This raised his total to 17 lambs or full grown sheep lost that spring. His neighbor reported he lost about 25. The farms are surrounded by densely wooded and deep ravines, with crests of the hills serving as sheep pastures. Perfect predator country. "We did very well there." Vedrinski said a coyote actually hit him on the shoulder as it came running in to the source of the squealing rabbit.

On another trip to a farm losing sheep, "The weather was blistering with snow blowing in everywhere that wasn't buttoned up tightly. Really, not the type of weather I like to be out in, but when calling it's best to be out there when coyotes are on the prowl," said Vedrinski. The two set up where they believed any predator hunting upwind would first cross in front of them.

Instead of following the book written by those who know coyote behavior, two wily animals circled the source of the rabbit squeals, coming in just the opposite of the way textbooks explain how predators hunt. A big male came in so fast neither of the men was able to get a shot off until the animal was on its way past them. Once the action was over, the two men back tracked the coyote's tracks to learn more about how they hunt or move about. They now usually set up facing opposite directions.

"Another night, three coyotes were so unafraid they were actually charging the squeal, playfully biting and yelping at each other as they came. They were having a good old time, racing to see who would be first to get to the free meal. They came right through multiflora rose bushes as if they weren't there. Only one returned back into the woods.

Initially, Barone's calling is loud and hard for a few minutes then lowers the tone. "When I get into a good night of calling I go home with a headache," said Alex.

Coyotes are not the only animal attracted by the squeal of a rabbit. "We have had a "ton" of owls and hawks come in to us," explained Vedrinski. "Ironically, it may sound a little funny, but we even have had deer come to our squealing. You'd think they would run the other way but we had bucks and does come in, probably out of pure curiosity." Coyote hunters should not look for a full outline of their quarry, just something moving in the underbrush, said Vedrinski. "When something is spotted moving, get ready. When they come in, they're moving real fast. Nothing bashful about a hungry coyote."

When calling, they only spend about 15 minutes at a likely looking spot, calling constantly. If nothing comes in or lets out a painful-sounding howl, then its time to move just out of hearing range of their squeals. This way they believe a valley can be well covered.

Discussing coyote habits, they report coyotes move around until its time for whelping. Then, they may settle down for a month or so, explained Vedrinski. Because it's lambing time, February, March and early April is the time of the year they receive most calls for predator control.

Both men report they have a high respect for coyotes. "They are true survivalists. They can live on anything, anywhere, anytime. They're adaptable."