Don't let that deer-in-the-headlight look fool you, I'm all business during a recent coyote hunt at George's Sanilac County, Mich., property.
MAHFS photo by Mac Arnold


By Mac Arnold
MAHFS Editor

Apparently all my yammering about failing to get a coyote caught the attention of one reader, who was more than happy to have me come out and attempt to shoot them off his Sanilac County, Mich., hunting property.

I've been out twice with George, who lives in Clinton Township, and we have yet to hoist one of them cagey "dogs" over our shoulders but we have come close.

On the first gig two weeks ago, George had a dog come within range and bark twice but he couldn't get off a shot.

Then I thought I saw the 'yote slip in and out of the tree trunks 100 yards to the front of the blind I was in but it was a mere fleeting glimpse.

This past Sunday we tried a couple of spots before darkness fell and thought we got busted as the dog likely moved in downwind of where George was doing his critter distress calls.

We are going to employ plan B on our next effort, which will entail some sort of bait, and possibly setting up on the northern part of his outstanding hunting digs.

It's amazing what can happen to you when you volunteer to blast critters off of a property owner's farm fields.

And it may very well be a final hurrah for me as I found some sobering news after a recent MRI.

As some of you may remember, I was "demonized" by an inherited blind at the close of this past deer season on New Year's Day. Once I made it to the truck after hunting one of the dairy farms I'm on, the wind kicked up and a gust -- some of which reportedly reached 45 mph that day -- sent the confounded blind skipping across the field.

I took pursuit like Troy Polamalu on the heels of a receiver. After I snagged it, I got up and my arm was stinging from the shoulder to the tip of my fingers. Obviously something was very wrong and it had been aching off and on for quite some time before the open-field tackle so the demon blind is not entirely on the hook.

After a month of babying it and trying different shots, I decided enough was enough and had it looked at by the doc that repaired the left shoulder.

I thought it wasn't as bad of a tear as the one in the left rotator but turns out it's much worst even to where the doctor said he "wasn't sure he could fix it."

Gulp!

So I'm looking at another stretch of rehab, which stinks, but the pain and weakness I have in the arm now seems just as futile so like the doc said, "it's at least worth a shot."

Another aspect of this is I'm wondering if I'll be able to make the spring gobbler season, even if it's at the very end of it. It would be year No. 18.

Believe me, I'm brainstorming as I write on how to get out there because missing turkey season seems downright un-American.

But in the meantime, as the fateful day on the table nears, George has said, "Lets get you a coyote first."

Hear, hear.