HUNTING THE COYOTE

Evening Post, Volume CV, Issue 151, 30 June 1928, Page 20

HUNTING THE COYOTE

AN AMERICAN SPORT. Though lacking the ;red coats and hunting horns of the English fox hunt, tho wolf chases of the Western plains furnish the farmers there tho. same excitement and comradeship, writes a correspondent of the "New York Times." . Business is mixed with pleasure in them, for they have been induced not only by the love of sport, •but as a measure of self-defence. Although called "wolf" hunts,, they usually have as their objects coyotes, and are organised whenever a number of farmers in a vicinity complain of lost chickens, lambs, and pigs. i Usually two or three hundred farmers surround four sections of land—an area two miles square. Eight companies or "crowds" are organised, each having a captain who directs the advance. A zero hour is determined, usually about half-past two in the morning1' The hunters are lined tip in groups about a mile apart. At the appointed hour each captain's shrill whistle is heard. Through the trees, or over the fields, and tho chase is on. As'tho long line marches, jack-rab-bits spring up. There are barks from shotguns and the rabbits turn double somersaults and fall dead. Crows, too, fall victims to the sportsmen's guns. Then comes a coyote, skulking down tne gully of a low ridge. Espying tho farmers he races off, his tail well down. He is lanky and grey-yellow, and far - om attractive. - "Thcro ho is!" "Get him!'' The farmers aro quick'to sight him, and their guns blaze like a battle line. The coyote is a worthy object of their aim. Darting in and out of a hedge like a dull streak, ho miv up a ridge only to meet the line of farmers approaching from that direction. Hesitating a moment to calculate his predicament, ho resolves to light for his life against the converging lines of hunters. He drops down into a gully, out of sight for a' moment. . But the hunters come on, knowing that sooner or later he will reappear.. Suddenly he is seen, galloping madly. He does not run away ..from them. He takes his only chance and charges at tho lino, attempting to break through and lose his pursuers. ' It is one chance in a thousand. Shots.crash out to the right and left as the coyote speeds at them. One farmer crouches directly in his path, and, as the coyote is almost upon him, fires. There is only an instant between the discharge of his first barrel and the second. The coyote tumbles, knocked from his feet by the impact. After a moment ho rises and darts into tho weeds seemingly uninjured. "Missed him," tho farmers ' chide, "Ho ran right through you." They realise, however, that the animal has been shot, and it will only be a question of time until they find its body. Dogs run into tho weeds and before Jong there are tell-tale barks. The farmers tear into the weeds. One raises tho coyote, by the hind legs, a limp bunch of fur. •