Hunting Coyotes with Hounds, Snowshoes, and an Old-School Snowmobile

This story, “For Men Only,” originally appeared in the November 1962 issue of Outdoor Life.

SNOW HAD FALLEN early that night, adding half a foot to the 30 inches already in the woods. It had quit around midnight and the track had been made after that. It was almost daylight and the county snowplow had not reached this narrow road winding through the evergreens and birches of Wilderness State Park in Michigan. Our jeep broke its own trail when we saw tracks crossing the road. We stopped for a look.

The round tracks, blurred by new snow, said bobcat, but the longer Roy Vincent, Ham Sheveline, and I studied them, the more likely it seemed that they had been made by two coyotes trotting in each other’s steps. It was mid-January, with mating season coming on, and while a pair of coyotes traveling together will often trot one behind the other and leave a single track, we knew how hard it was to distinguish from a cat’s.

We followed the tracks into the woods on our snowshoes. In a thicket 200 feet from the road, we found a pair of coyotes.

“They’re goners,” Ham said confidently. “They can’t stay ahead of the dogs long in this snow.

It seemed a safe prediction. Nine times out of 10, with two or three feet of light snow on the ground, if we strike a track we kill the coyote quickly. By the time the hunt ended later that night, Roy and I were too tired to twit Ham about famous last words. Ham, a fur buyer from Central Lake, is a hound man with good dogs and a keen interest in bear, bobcat, and coyote hunting.

We unloaded his snow-sled from the trailer, hooked a homemade sled carrying two dog boxes behind the snow sled, put Ring and Baldy in the boxes, and took the track.

They lined out across the ice, running west toward Waugoshance Point and Crane Island a mile beyond, bawling a lively duet. Ham gunned the snow-sled and we flew along after them.

The sleds we use are ideal vehicles for winter woods travel. Powered with a 9 1/2-horsepower air-cooled engine and capable of making close to 35 miles an hour, they’re mounted on a pair of ski-like runners in front for steering and two fixed runners at the rear. The drive belt is a caterpillar-tread device of heavy rubber with steel cleats, floating between the rear runners and loose at the back end, so it can chew its way down into the snow. Powerful enough to carry two or three men, the sled can be driven anywhere the timber will let it through. Vincent and I own one between us, in addition to Ham’s.

We were close behind the dogs when, at the end of a two-mile run, they turned in to the beach and went out of sight in a thick stand of cedar. Minutes later, when we killed the engine to listen, they were half a mile away to the west, bawling full blast. We knew one of the coyotes was running ahead of them.

We dropped the tow sled and circled to find out what had happened. Jumped in the cedar tangles, the two coyotes had separated, the male heading for Crane Island, the smaller female swinging south toward Sturgeon Bay and then cutting back into the park. Our hounds were driving the dog.

That coyote had been hunted before and knew what it was all about. If things got too tough, he preferred the timber of Crane Island to the open ice of Lake Michigan. The island is about a mile across and he made one complete circuit.

Two hounds close on heels of coyote, then one dog shortens the gap to within striking distance. Few hounds can kill one singlehanded.

From where we faced the treacherous field, on the beach of Crane Island, the nearest upper peninsula shore loomed 10 miles away to the northeast. To the northwest, the way the coyote and our dogs were going, however, it was twice that far.

In the back of our minds, all three of us were thinking the same thing. No hound man deserts his dogs, and we didn’t intend to desert ours. Vincent spoke for all of us when he said, “Well, I guess the only way we’ll find out what the ice is like out there is to go and see.”

We knew the ice was treacherous, but we couldn’t leave our dogs. We saw the dogs and coyote tracks leading down across the beach, but we knew it wouldn’t be easy. Wind and currents shift and move the ice, breaking off floes, separating them with big open cracks, grinding them up, and piling up ridges.

About 10 miles offshore, we saw something moving ahead of us. It was Ring, still on the track but going at a walk. We caught up and took him aboard.

At dusk, on open ice to the southwest of Crane Island, we picked up Baldy. We reached the jeep at 10 o’clock, having made 60 miles on the sled.

“I’m surprised at myself,” Ham said thoughtfully while we were loading the sled, “I thought I had better sense.”

WE ALL HAVE our motivations for hunting coyotes. In my case, my dad and grandpappy lived to hunt fox and coon in southern Ohio where I was born. I cut my teeth playing around with hound dogs and grew to enjoy them more as I got older. Moving to Indian River, Michigan, opened up a whole new world of hunting opportunities. Indian River had fox, coon, deer, grouse, bears, bobcats, and most importantly, coyotes. I teamed up with Vincent, who had good hounds and had been hunting coyotes for years. We killed 10 or 12 the first winter and I knew I had found the answer to a hound man’s prayers. Coyotes provided fast action and excitement like nothing else.

We hunt a big triangle, stretching 75 miles from Lake Michigan to Lake Huron, and 35 miles north and south. Coyotes are plentiful and we have all the necessary tools for success. From mid-January to late February is the best time to hunt, as snow conditions are right and the coyotes are more active, driven by the urge to mate.

A coyote has everything that makes the red fox a prime favorite ahead of hounds, but he has more of it. He’s bigger, bolder, and tougher. His nose is as keen as a deer’s, his ears as good, and he has eyes in the back of his head. Though he ranges far, traveling 25 to 30 miles in a night when food is scarce, he knows the location of every swamp, lake, stream, deer yard, beaver pond, and windfall. He’s full of tricks and rarely makes mistakes.

Catching and killing a coyote is a challenge. They are known for their cunning and ability to avoid hounds. Our pack of eight hounds, three of which are top cold-trailers and two of which are skilled killers, give us a good chance at catching them. Although our dogs usually catch and kill in 20 to 30 minutes when there’s deep snow, it can take much longer when there’s only a few inches. It’s not necessary for the dogs to do the killing, but they must have the grit to hold the coyote and prevent it from escaping.

Even though the coyote is a formidable opponent, we have had many successful hunts over the years. It’s a challenging and rewarding sport that we are passionate about.

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