After a full day of scouting the area and readying my various strategies, I settled in for a nice family dinner and some rest. I crashed about 22:00, with the idea of waking about 3-4:00 and heading up to a large bluff surrounded by brush, that I would use as a blind. I woke up a little late at 04:16 and began
the task of dressing in the dark and quietly creeping around the cabin trying not to awaken my family. I finally made my way to the door and with a highly skilled hand (from years of sneaking around) I pushed open the door and quietly made my way out into the 28F night. Fatal error one occurred here, as I let the door lock behind me, now guaranteeing 5 hours of winter exposure. I had dressed in mostly light wools and cottons various expedition quality North Facey stuff, I hoped it would be enough...
I set my Nikon D50 to manual mode with an infinity focus, and strobe to 100%. This way if I did encounter something on my way to the blind I could hammer away some frames paparazzi style with no regard to focus or position being necessary. I slowly felt my eyes adjusting to the darkness as my pupils grew, I finally could make some sense of my surroundings and began walking towards the water. This is about the time that fatal error two occurred, as I walked right through my bait station and got rib bones and chickeny parts all over my shoes, now I was a mobile bait station...
As I trekked along I kept my ears open for sound and I must plug the newly revised Nike ACG line, the WildEdge was an exceptional stalker with quiet movement and no slippage. I would recommend anyone, be they--full on stalkers in a neighbors bush, or creeping up on dangerous wildlife to give these kicks
some serious consideration. The night was cold and quiet, not a sound was heard apart from the occasional jump of a fish in the icy water to my right. I carefully navigated the rocky shore and paused at our "out-of-the-water dock" for a quick review. I held this position for about 20 more minutes and just listened. The cold was starting to creep through my light clothes and without the benefit of moving I was getting cold!
I could hear some chirpy opossum up a pine tree behind me but nothing exciting as of yet. I carefully grabbed my Sony DV camera, and threw it in night mode, I was ready to again move out, and up the hill to the rocky bluff ahead, the setting moon was now cascading just enough light across the valley to allow me to see my next objective up ahead, so I rolled on. When I made it to the edge of the forest I kept hearing the rustling of floor ahead, almost as if something was two steps ahead of me the whole time, it was probably my imagination or the cold but I couldn't help feeling a little bit of that child-like fear of the darkness ahead.
I found my position and took a knee for a minute. I was getting full on cold now, as the wind swept across the cold water below, it started cutting right through my thin wool sweater. It was 05:35 am there was still 90 minutes til dawn, and 3 hours until I could get back inside the toasty 80F cabin, that is
without waking everyone up in a panic. I will call this fatal error three, because I really was freezing my ass off and with no shelter option and a few less degrees this could have been a potentially fatal situation. I spent the next few cold moments in the brush with my ears tuned in, listening for any signs of coyote. I then heard a small yelp of some kind across the way!
I started rolling on my DV camera and again heard the very faint yelping. I was pretty sure I had a coyote handshake yelp! Coyote make lots of sounds for different communication needs, smoke signals of sorts. I continued to film in the direction of the sounds for another few minutes when suddenly and much closer another yelp went out! I started to realize that I was in a fairly remote place, alone and not in any position to "move out" very fast, just due to the technical nature of the rocks below and the brushy climb I had just made... Critical error four is a combination of lack of weaponry, escape plan and smelling like ribs and chicken while right in the middle of prime hunting time.
I continued to roll...
Another 30 seconds or so and I heard a much louder, full on announcement howl! As the noise rang out, I could feel the hairs on my neck stand up, and I actually got pretty scared. This animal(s) was nearing and loudly, proclaiming his presence. Something fired in me and I got up and started a fast walk. I would have ran If I wasn't scared of breaking my neck and becoming carrion. I couldn't believe I was "pussing out" as it were, giving up the mission! As the camera rolled on, in classic Blair witch fashion I ran off like a little girl. In the back of my mind I could hear the entire Monty Python cast yelling out: "run away, run away!"
The fail...
I managed to fire up the propane grill and warm my now numb hands enough to survive a bit longer, I never have been a glove guy especially in regards to photography. It was then I looked below me and realized the root cellar underneath the cabin! The door was unlocked, and as I opened it, I was greeted by a nice 78F warm burst of air. Ahhh, I even found a nice seat to sit my cowardly ass in and sulk. As I warmed up I remembered the grizzly Adams films of my youth and how he managed with only a bowie knife and some Indian bloke.
I could barely muster the courage to beat a coyote to death with a Nikon camera. What is this world coming to? Man up cowboy! The sun did come up finally and I went back out to find my bait station empty and a 5 course breakfast by my dad waiting for me back at the cabin.
The following video while not much in the way of picture, pretty much fully details my panic attacked retreat in a somewhat humorous way. If you listen carefully you will hear the second yelp. Then shortly after you will hear the full announcement howl, thereafter all you hear is me briskly retreating:
Coyote Quest FAIL:
The driving and blogging entries:
http://www.lastfreeman.com/driving_and_blogging/2008/03/02/index.html
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