The Dogs of Winter

While some might argue that the boom and bust cycle that often occurs in contemporary predator/prey relationships is nature's way, intelligent intervention by humans to moderate the cycle seems desirable for both the animals and the habitat they need for survival.

If you choose to hunt coyotes or foxes, winter is the ideal time to do so for a number of reasons. For one thing, canine predators prey more heavily on deer and other game animals in the months when crusted snow and the physical toll of poor nutrition and cold make them more vulnerable. Mild winters generally mean lower predation, while seasons of severity see greater numbers of game animals falling to predators. Coyote hunting in such scenarios may help to tip the scales in favor of wintering deer who lack the physical reserves to deal with both the weather and predators.

However, predator hunting in severe winters may be counter-productive if the hunter isn't sensitive to the ungulates he's trying to protect. Deer disturbed by a coyote shooter waste valuable energy reserves in unnecessary flight. If you're gunning for winter canines with deer preservation in mind, you may be hindering their survival if you stress the prey while hunting the predators.

Another worthwhile reason to target predators in winter involves ethics and economics. In real dollars, fur prices are currently much lower than in previous decades. However, a $20 pelt is still worth delivering to a fur dealer, although it won't offset the fifteen gallons of gas it may have taken to secure it. One can also take a certain measure of satisfaction in knowing that the hunt provides a useful product for human use, be it a fox-trimmed hat or a full-length coyote coat.

A third reason to hunt coyotes and foxes on the short-daylight side of the calendar is strictly pragmatic; both species are very susceptible to a variety of hunting methods during the winter. For one thing, snow cover makes it much easier to spot your quarry. For another, a winter-hungry coyote that can't snack on grasshoppers and ground squirrels is highly motivated by the sound of a distressed rabbit, even though the "bunny" has a scoped rifle in the warren and whiskers considerably shorter than Mr. Cottontail's.

There are other motivations as well. The soft swish of one's own footfalls in freshly fallen snow, the rosy flush of blood in cheeks chilled by a five-degree cold snap, and achingly cold, pure air in moistened nostrils make a morning afield worth infinitely more than hours spent slouching on the couch, disgusted by the performance of a formerly favored football squad.

From a practical standpoint, challenging the dogs of winter can be as simple or complex as you'd like it. It's really not necessary to wrap your rifle in white tape, don a snowsuit that the young ghouls in your neighborhood would love to filch for Halloween and lay for hours huffing on a varmint call in frigid, snow-covered corn stubble. My last coyote "hunt" included a seven mile hike on a favorite trail in a wilderness area. The ramble took me through open parks and naked aspen groves where canis latrans had previously showed themselves on fall deer hunts. I returned to the trailhead with nothing to show for the day but exercise, but only because I overshot a pale mountain coyote by inches. As many as four coyotes have come under my eyes on that trail, all of which were spotted without the benefit of a call or specialized attire.

No matter how you hunt them, an appreciation for your quarry's biological peculiarities will improve your success. Many predator hunters feel obligated to deck themselves in head-to-toe camo clothing and/or call from a ground blind. Those practices may certainly aid your pursuit, but I'm highly convinced that foxes and coyotes are much more visually attuned to motion than shades of color.