Forgot to post about this back when it happened. On the opening morning of muzzleloader season this past year, I was hunting about 100 yards west of my sister, who was in our hay bale blind overlooking a 15 acre hay field we've dubbed "The Killing Field." My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I had a text message from my sister: "COYOTE". I replied telling her to try to make a distress squeak with her mouth. One long minute passed as I listened apprehensively.
For a bit of backstory, my sister has had some bad luck with coyotes. A few years ago, she was hunting with her at the time boyfriend when a coyote came trotting her way. Her nerves kicked in as she was trying to get her muzzleloader settled on it. Her boyfriend refused to try to range him or make a noise to stop it in its tracks, and she missed the resultant shot. He made fun of her for it, but he had the gall to get upset when she made fun of him for missing a buck at a much closer distance with a rifle. Then, last year while hunting together, she missed another coyote. I ranged him wrong and called the shot wrong, so she shot under it. She's long wanted to shoot a coyote, but could never manage it.
Then barely 30 minutes into shooting light, her muzzleloader broke the early morning silence. I quickly moved her direction and found her positively ecstatic. Lying dead in the grass 80 yards away was a big male coyote. She had done as I said, making as good of a distress squeak as she could muster to call him in as close as possible. When he stopped to sniff the ground, a 250 grain Shockwave knocked him flat. We traveled down the hill and she admired his beautiful coat.
We weighed him at 35 pounds.