I’m convinced that coyote hunting isn’t about killing coyote, but about the rush of fear and adrenaline! Click here to read Part 1 – where Frank Bruzzi and I had started up the mountain – with my complete lack of night vision.
Frank had a portable loudspeaker, and was playing a tape that contained the eerie sounds of a wounded rabbit. That sound – a high pitched painful squeal was creepy – and being in the dark, knowing that it was attracting an entire pack of predators made it even more creepy.
Within minutes, we heard coyotes calling to each other on the distant hilltops – with a yip yip yowl and then another few minutes later – and we could hear the pack as they circled us.
Frank’s head mounted flashlight had a red filter – that barely lit things up, we couldn’t see more than twelve or fifteen feet away from us. Of course, those coyotes came in close – just close enough that we could hear their panting and padding, as they circled us as we walked up the hill. We saw some occasional eye-flash as the red light hit their eyes, but for the most part, we could only hear them. I was pretty frightened! I clenched Frank’s coat and held my breath as we trudged up the logging road. He was enjoying it, I was scared to death.
To be Continued!