Just like Bisch, shooting a 'yote with a longbow has forever been on my Bucket List. I don't pursue them, but do welcome any and all opportunities.
Years ago, during an especially crisp early November morning hunt I was perched 20 feet up in a well-branched, young oak tree. My Lone Wolf hang-on stand was set facing North overlooking a well used deer trail 17 yards to the West off my left shoulder. Sitting perfectly still and intently listening was my plan that chilly morning as the frozen forest floor loudly betrayed anything moving. Sure enough, about 30 minutes after shooting light I heard something approximately 100 yards out approaching down the trail in front of me. I tend to hunt thick stuff, so before the critter was within eye sight I slowly and quietly stood, positioned my feet, positioned my Great Northern Lil' Creep and place my Fred Eichler cordovan shooting tab on the string. Just as I settled in, I saw a big, dark trophy 'yote coming down the trail at a steady pace. I smiled and drooled, not unlike a hungry 'yote chasing a rabbit. I drew smoothly, anchored and watched as he quickly crossed my shooting lane and kept steadily plodding down the deer trail. No Shot - No 'Yote! Dang!
Two weekends later, up the same tree on a similar crisp morning I heard familiar paced footsteps coming down the same trail. I stood quickly and quietly. This time I set the bow tip on my boot, leaned the bowstring back into my leg and waist and grabbed the little mouse squealer I'd brought for just such an encounter . . . 'fool me twice, shame on me'. I squealed as soon as I was sure it was the 'yote. He was about 40 yards out when he heard 'Denny the Mouse'. He stopped for about 20 seconds which was just enough time for me to stealthily place the call back into my pocket and slowly raise my bow. As my Lil' Creep canted at shooting level I reached for the familiar string with my well-used tab. My hand slightly bump the bowstring and the Bear Razorhead tipped cedar arrow fell from my bowstring, silently arched just over the front of my stand making a rustling noise as it landed on the forest floor at the base of the oak tree. The arrow nock must have been partially dislodged from the bowstring when I leaned the bow against my leg and waist to grab the mouse squealer. My trophy 'yote heard the arrow rustle as it landed in the leaves, left the trail and came to the base of my tree anticipating a squealing, leaf rustling rodent breakfast. It investigated my arrow and left the area with a purpose. A couple of chilly, joint stiffening hours later I too left the area with a purpose.
There's quite a number of crossed off items on Denny's Bucket List, however, killing a trophy 'Yote with a longbow remains. ( Coyotes - 2 / Denny - 0 ) Next Time - I Win!