PA Predator Trifecta-Predator Hunting Pennsylvania
The first set was a bust.
We quickly relocated to another stand where we have had success in the past. Midway into the sequence…EYES! This grey was coming in hot on our left and Ross struggled to get into position. The fox stopped dead in its tracks, and Ross sent lead down range. After continuing to call without results we decided to go get our fur. We got to where the Grey had been standing and found it about 30 yds away. With our confidence boosted, we headed to our next stand. Before we could even get set up, Ross shined eyes on the ridge. Unsure what species it was, Blake started off with the tried and true “Cottontail in Distress”. When this didn’t draw him in, we switched to Grey Fox in Distress. All bets were off. A gray came out of the edge of the woods within range of the shotgun, but winded us before we could get off a shot. A quick squeak and we had him stopped at 60 yards. I was fast on the trigger, but only succeeded in giving him a good education. With high confidence in this location, we kept the FoxPro splitting the night air. “There’s one behind us,” Blake whispered, and the three of us quickly spun around. When we turned Blake squeaked and stopped this grey within shotgun range. The .204 barked again, and he quickly retreated into the woods. I was convinced the gun was off, but Ross assured me it was just my poor shooting. Our fourth set didn’t produce any fur, but the fifth gave us some more action. A few minutes in Ross heard some movement behind us, so we all focused back there for a few seconds. Fearing something might come into the field while we were focused in the woods, I turned my attention back in front of us. As my beam scanned the field, I spotted a coyote not 60 yards away staring down the call. I whispered “coyote, coyote”, and that’s all Blake needed to hear. We finally had got our first yote for the year! When we walked up to it we noticed something off, Ross pointed out that it only had one toe left on its front left paw. She had escaped the trap, but not Blake’s rifle. Hyped up, we continued calling into the night. Our next few sets proved unproductive, but we decided to head to another farm. Within a few minutes, eyes came in and winded us. Before we knew it, there was a pair of reds coming in textbook. They stopped out at 100 yards and Blake handed out his second dirt nap for the night. We didn’t have to work tomorrow and we had one last stand in us, so we chugged some caffeine, and headed out to some virgin ground. We snuck into a fence row between two corn fields and stopped where a hedge row extended from the woods towards us. Blake fired up the call and Ross was on the gun when a big Red came into 80 yards off to our right. Ross cracked off a shot with the .204, believing I was making excuses about it being off, and he too failed to connect. We left the call running and another grey came into range. Before we could get on it he winded us, booked across the field in front of us, and ran into the woods. Ross, now believing me that the gun was off, said he wasn’t shooting again, meaning we had to get them within range of the Mossberg. Within minutes, another red (could’ve been the same as the first) ran the same play as the first and stayed out of range. Simultaneously, Blake had spotted another set of eyes off in the woods. We were unable to draw him out of the timber. In disbelief, we saw another pair of eyes sitting up on the hill in front of us. Agreeing that we had already handed enough diplomas for the night, we decided to head back to the fur shed. While we could’ve followed through with the rifle better, we still had a PA Predator Trifecta in the back of the truck, and that’s all that mattered! (Ross and Myself still argue that the scope was bumped, as it was off when we shot the next morning, but if you talk to Blake he might tell you another story…)