The short version: .223 Savage Axis II (Boyd stock), old garage sale Leopold 3x9, 270 yards.
The long version:
You have not seen me post up in a while cuz I been missin'. Not lost or away, just not hitting the last four yotes.
The distances varied from 165 to 420 yards. My excuses varied from sun in my eyes, to crunching a testy going prone.
Today my buddy and I were walking back to the truck from three unsuccessful stands when I spotted a coyote about 250 yards up a valley to our left.
Alerting my buddy to stand quiet, he instead swings his Mini 14 into an off-hand shooting position. So I let out a low but firm What the F...!
While we were debating the who's turn is it vs. the physics of a standing snap shot, the coyote got bored and wondered over a ridge.
I began glassing to see if he would reemerge when his unlucky pal came out of a bush to investigate.
Without a word I dropped a knee in the grass with my shooting sticks in place. and cross hairs on top of his shoulders and remembering my last four misses, took one more breath and click... Bad primer? Forgot to chamber? Don't care, rack it and squeeeeeze. THUD! Even at 270 you can here that music of a solid hit.
I caught him low, right in the heart. The hand loaded Nosler 55 Ballistic Tip Varmint, looked like a volleyball exit wound. My .243 Howa is on notice.
The long version:
You have not seen me post up in a while cuz I been missin'. Not lost or away, just not hitting the last four yotes.
The distances varied from 165 to 420 yards. My excuses varied from sun in my eyes, to crunching a testy going prone.
Today my buddy and I were walking back to the truck from three unsuccessful stands when I spotted a coyote about 250 yards up a valley to our left.
Alerting my buddy to stand quiet, he instead swings his Mini 14 into an off-hand shooting position. So I let out a low but firm What the F...!
While we were debating the who's turn is it vs. the physics of a standing snap shot, the coyote got bored and wondered over a ridge.
I began glassing to see if he would reemerge when his unlucky pal came out of a bush to investigate.
Without a word I dropped a knee in the grass with my shooting sticks in place. and cross hairs on top of his shoulders and remembering my last four misses, took one more breath and click... Bad primer? Forgot to chamber? Don't care, rack it and squeeeeeze. THUD! Even at 270 you can here that music of a solid hit.
I caught him low, right in the heart. The hand loaded Nosler 55 Ballistic Tip Varmint, looked like a volleyball exit wound. My .243 Howa is on notice.
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