The Winter Grind: Hunting the West Desert in Jan & Feb

You can kill young, dumb pups in November until you run out of shells. But come January in this country, the free lunch is over. The easy ones are dead or educated. What you got left are the survivors, and they’ve got one thing on their mind—and it ain’t filling their belly. It’s finding a mate.

If you want to stack fur when the mercury drops, you gotta stop thinking like a buffet and start thinking like a trespasser.

Reading the Country (Where the Dog Is)

This desert is bigger than hell and half the acreage is empty. You gotta know where they’re hiding out to keep from freezing to death.

• The "Heater" Slopes: The valley floor in January is colder than a well-digger’s backside. Coyotes ain’t stupid; they want the sun on their fur. Look for 'em bedded about a third of the way up a South-facing slope. They’ll back up against a rimrock or a juniper to block the wind and soak up that morning sun like a lizard on a rock.
  

• Ride the Bench, Not the Ditch: You’ll see a mess of tracks in the bottom of the dry washes—that’s just their highway for traveling at night. But when they’re working the country, they won't commit to the bottom of the ditch. They run the "bench"—that flat shelf halfway up the hill. It lets 'em smell what’s coming over the ridge and see what’s moving in the bottoms. If you’re watching the wash, you’re looking in the wrong spot.
  
  

• The Junctions: Find where two or three washes crash into each other like a busted interchange. That’s the town square. If you find fresh sign there, you’re in his living room.
  

• The Cheatgrass Factor: Everyone looks for sagebrush, but late in the year, the rabbits are scarce. When the jacks thin out, coyotes switch to mice. Don't ignore those ugly patches of tall, dead cheatgrass. If you see a dog staring at the ground and pouncing like a fox, he’s mousing. Switch to a squeaker, and you can pull him in on a string
  

The Approach (Don't Spook the Herd)

• The Truck "Click": You can blow a stand before your boots even hit the dirt. The air is thin out here, and sound travels faster than gossip. I hear fellas slamming their truck doors from two miles out. If I can hear it, that coyote has you pegged. When you park, push that door closed 'til it clicks.
  
  

• Wind is King: A coyote lives by his nose. 9 times out of 10, he’s gonna try to circle downwind to check your ID before he commits. Never set up looking straight into the wind. Set up so the wind is cutting across your face.
  
  

• Offset the Box: Don't sit on top of your caller like a hen on an egg. Put that electronic box 50 yards upwind of you. When that dog circles to smell the "rabbit," he’s gonna walk right past you to get downwind of the speaker. That puts him dead to rights in your lap.
  
  

3. Hiding in Plain Sight (The Sagebrush Wreck)

The West Desert is unforgiving. The sagebrush is usually too high to sit on the ground, but too low to stand up without sticking out like a sore thumb.

• Get Off the Dirt: If you’re sitting on your pockets in the dirt, you can’t see 30 yards. You need to get your eyes up. This is where a tripod-mounted blind is worth its weight in gold. It gets you just high enough—2 or 3 feet up—so you can see over the brush, but keeps you hidden. It turns a flat sage flat into a spot you can actually hunt. If you can't see 'em, you can't shoot 'em.
  
  

• Play the Shadows: Don't silhouette yourself on the skyline or you'll stick out like a billboard. Always sit in the deep, blue shade of a juniper. And keep the sun at your back—make that coyote look into the glare.
  
  

4. Speaking the Language (Quit Squeaking)

Stop playing "Dying Rabbit" for an hour. By February, every yahoo with a pickup truck has played that sound. You need to pick a fight or find them a girlfriend.

• The Voucher (Crows): These dogs are skeptical as an old banker. Use the "Eye in the Sky." Crows and magpies only make noise on the ground if there’s a kill and no humans. Mixing in some Crow/Magpie sounds is like having a voucher—it tells the coyote the coast is clear.
  
  

• The Sequence:

1. Start with a Female Invitation Howl. Long and lonesome. Then shut up and wait.
   
   

2. Give it time. Sound travels miles out here.

3. If nothing shows, hit 'em with a Male Challenge Bark. You’re telling the local boss that a stranger is in his bedroom with his girl. He’ll come running to run you off.
   
   

4. The Closer: If they hang up at 400 yards, switch to Pup Distress. Even an old, wary dog hates the sound of a pup getting chewed on. It triggers the instinct to protect the pack.
   
   

Old Salt Tips

• The "Desert Lie": The desert is a liar. Without trees for perspective, your eye gets tricked. We call it "Short-Ranging." A coyote that looks 200 yards out is usually 300. Trust your rangefinder, not your eyes, or you'll shoot right under his belly.
  
  

• Check the Scat: If it’s black, shiny, and moist, it’s fresh as morning coffee. If it’s white and chalky, that dog is long gone.
  
  

• The Shadow Dog: In February, if you see one coyote coming, don't get trigger happy. There is almost always a mate trailing 50 to 100 yards behind him. Wait for the pair.
  
  

• Stop Him with a Bark: When he’s crossing fast, don't whistle. Bark at him ("Woof!"). It sounds natural, and he’ll freeze broadside for just a second. That’s your shot.
  
  

• Burning Daylight: Most folks leave a stand in 20 minutes. In the late season, sit for 45. The smart ones—the big dogs—take their sweet time checking the wind.