It was Saturday afternoon with absolutely nothing to do except yard work and we all know how I feel about that.
I put down my book and wandered over to the window. Hmmm, no wind. Looks like it's time to finally zero my 22-250.
I loaded up and headed out to Willie and Debbie's place. There's a spot out there that's got a huge pile of walnut trees where the landlord took out a couple acres of orchard. That would serve as a fine backstop, and there was over a hundred yards of open field beyond that to shoot from. On the other side of the tree pile is the creek with a high bank, no houses beyond that.
I pulled up and parked. Debbie came wandering out with her morning coffee in her hand a goat kid on her heels. Straight-up White Trash, God Bless Her.
"Hey Sis, you mind if I grab a zero real quick? Shouldn't take more than 10 minutes or so."
"No, go right ahead. You gonna hunt when you're done?"
We visited for a few minutes, then she went in to shower and get ready for work.
I set up my target, paced off a hundred yards, marked the spot then went and got my truck. I laid up in the bed, rested my forestock on my bags and commenced to shooting. Three groups later I had my zero and a very nice group that measured just a hair under an inch. Then I set up on the ground and fired a group from the bipod that went about an inch and a half. I was pretty impressed with that rifle. I was hoping for something like that but damned sure wasn't expecting it.
I headed back to the house and shot the shit with Debbie and her daughter Hillary while I let the property cool down. There's always gunfire and bird cannons going off and these coyotes are farm coyotes so they're used to man, but it was still an hour and a half before sunset and I didn't think they'd be moving yet.
A little while later I went out and found a spot up the slope from the creek not too far from where I had zeroed, crawled into a tractor rut and made myself as comfortable as I could. Then I started giggling to myself - this is a hell of a way to spend a Saturday evening. In a rut and a wet one at that. Oh well.
It was still awhile til sunset, but I did a couple of calls, then gave it a rest. Then I caught movement out of the corner off my eye. Not 75 yards away, here comes a young coyote trotting along with his head up his ass. I don't think he was responding to my call by the way he was acting, he just had someplace else to be and was headed there.
I was like a 10 year old kid with buck fever. When should I pick up the gun? Bipod or freehand? Do I even have a fucking round in the chamber?
Fuck that shit. I snatched the rifle, woofed to stop him and then smoked his ass. He started to move forward just as I shot, but he went down, thrashed, then went over the bank.
By the time I got there, he had drug himself into the worlds' thickest patch of blackberry thicket. I poked around for a minute and finally spotted part of him about 15 feet in. I chucked a rock at him to see if he moved, but he was finished.
I wanted that coyote bad but there was no way in hell I was going to rip up my clothes and skin just to retrieve vermin with a fleabitten hide.
Debbie was waiting for me at the truck with a big grin and a cold beer. "Did you nail that fucker, Kenny?"
Damn, that beer tasted good. It turned out to be a great Saturday night after all.