Ferndale Union High School - Tomahawk Yearbook (Ferndale, CA)

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The coyote scares had been of no avail. Traps had been used, and two or three coyotes had been caught in this way. But still the sheep killing went on. Poison was resorted to, and one unfortunate died in this way, yet, strange to say, the sheep were still taken one by one. Finally, father, driven to despair, bought some blood hounds, intend- ing to have peace at any cost. The hounds were fleet, and could run down a coyote and kill him in a couple of hours. In a few months they had every coyote around either killed or frightened away, but yet there was one who still ate sheep and eluded them. t The dogs would always take the track, so one morning I decided to follow them. I saddled my horse, and, unchaining the dogs, led them out to the fresh-killed carcas of a sheep, which had been left uneaten. They soon got the track, and sped away on the same trail they had taken for the past month. I followed as fast as I could, for the snow had been made slushy by a slight touch of good weather. In many ways I could tell that coyote was very cunning. One place I found where he had walked a rail fence, but evidently the hounds had solved this, perhaps from past experience. About two miles of hard running, and I came up to the hounds, who were dashing frantically around the foot of a brushy hillock. It was a rocky mound, about a hundred yards in circumference, standing in the middle of a clearing, and was covered with short shrubs. I found, upon close observ- ance, that Clip had run around the foot of this knoll about ten times, often reversing and running in the opposite direction. I thot, after doing this, he had probably sprung to one side and run off again. But I could find no evi- dence of this in the snow, so I guessed again. Maybehe had sprung upon a ledge of rock, and was even now watching from above. This, however, seemed improbable, so I called off the dogs and went back to the ranch. When Clip was with us, he had been very fond of chickens, and it was not peculiar that we sometimes found tracks leading to the chicken coop. One morning about five, father decided to go on a final coyote hunt. The hounds had been borrowed by a neighboring farmer, so he allowed we'd have to do our own tracking. Accompanied by two of the ranch hands, he was just starting, when one of the men noticed some tracks in the snow. Evidently they were coyote tracks. He followed them up, and found that they disappeared thru the small hole into the chicken house, and that there were no tracks leading out. Comprehending the situation he clapped a near-by box over the hole, and calling the rest, prepared to enter. Cautiously opening the door, he slipped in. Nothing stirred. On the floor in front of him lay a dead pullet. Away over in the corner he could indistinctly make out the form of what appeared to be a good sized dog, lying stretched out upon the ground. It was a little dark in the coop, but, cheered on by the outside, he crept closer. He touched it, and it did not stir, so he grabbed it by the hind leg and dragged it outside. It was an enormous coyote, and quite dead. So dead, in fact, that it was quite stiff. They all wondered what killed it. Father said he guessed PAGE TWENTY-FIVE

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Clip Ronald Ring, '12. HAD found him one morning when I was rounding up the sheep, a small, brown ball of fluffy hair, wailing sorrowfully Q-77133 beside a dead ewe. How long he had been there I knew not, Q but, remembering that one of the men had killed a coyote 1. Q the day before, I suspected this to be one of the litter which GM, the dead coyote had been nursing. Certainly he made no U resistance when I picked him up, so I took him, half frozen, back to the house. Clip grew fast, and I soon had to chain him up, for chickens were his favorite diet, and father threatened to kill him if he caught him any more. He was very playful, and would do many tricks which I had taught him. However, he did not like any one around him excepting myself. As he grew older, he became more restless, and would not perform any of his old tricks, He howled at night, and often we heard other Coyotes answering him. He grew mean and sulky toward everyone except myself, but toward me he acted like an affectionate dog. One day father said we would have to kill him, as he was getting to be a terrible nuisance. I-Ie said the next morning he was going to town, and he would take Clip along so that I could get the bounty on him. That night I lay awake hour after hour debating with myself what to do with Clip. I hated to kill him, but I knew it would be best. He had grown to be an enormous coyote, and still looked upon me as master. At last I made up my mind, and, stealing gently out of the house, I unchained my pet, and led him away. VV hen we reached the ridge above the house, I took the collar off his neck and left him. He crouched down and whined, and when I had reached the house again I could see him howling dismally, more like a big timber wolf than a coyote, in the white distance. The moon was full and the snow glistened. I-Ie stood with his head up, against a background of pinesg I could have told him amongst a thousand coyotes. I made it appear as if Clip had broken away, and, after burying the chain, slipped back to bed. All went well for about a month, when we be- gan missing sheep. We studied the tracks. It was always the same marauder. One moonlight night I was sent out to the barn to get a piece of broken harness, and, as I was returning, I caught sight of something on the ridge. It was Clip, sitting motionless and watching me. As I disappeared into the house he began to howl, and kept it up until one of the hired men frightened him away with a gun. Next morning we found two dead, partially eaten sheep, and I could now guess the guilty one. PAGF TWENTY FDU!

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we didn't have to go for coyotes that day, as he thot this big beauty was the one that was making all the trouble. No one recognized it, but with a sad feeling I knew it to be my old friend Clip. We left him by the gate, and went in to breakfast. As soon as the meal was over we all went out to see him again, father having decided to have him stuffed and mounted, to keep as a curiosity. But when we got to the gate, there was no coyote in sight, and one of the hired men vowed someone had stolen him. Tracks leading over the ridge told the tale: The dead had come to life, and everybody stood gaping in wonder. I remembered how I had taught him to play dead, but he had never done it so realistically as this. I admired his trick greatly, but as the rest didn't, or didn't let on they did, I said nothing. Clip never troubled the chickens again. One sunny afternoon I was taking a little stroll in search of some quail I was sauntering toward the mound, where Clip had fooled the dogs so many times, when I heard the unmistakable whir of a quail and, looking up from the ground where I had been studying coyote tracks, saw a bunch of quail alight at the lower ledge of the rock, which was covered with small shrubs and scrub firs. I crept cautionsly up the opposite side from the quail, making as little noise as possible. It took me some time to reach the top, as it was rather steep in places. There below me about thirty yards were live or six quail huddled on a flat rock. What a line shot. I was just about to give them both barrels, when a slight movement just below attracted my attention. To my intense surprise it turned out to be an immense coyote, and by certain marks I at once knew it to be Clip. There he lay, basking in the sun, watching the quail as they ran on the rocks below. How I longed to stroke that shaggy, beautiful coat of his, and have him do the tricks I had taught him. But no, he was nothing to me, he would not even know me. Father had offered a splendid automatic shotgun for the one who would kill Clip. Surely this was my chance. I raised the gun quickly, for I was afraid he would discover meg but, as I aimed, I could see the picture of a little, round ball of fur, rolling playfully at my feet. I lowered the gun, half ashamed of myself. Upon reflecting, I could see no reason why he should not be killed, for he was a very great detriment to the surrounding country. I tried again to shoot, but in vain. Always the remembrance of his past atfection stopped my hand. However, something must be done. I might frighten him away. Rais- ing the gun, I fired blindly into the clump of bushes behind which he was hid- den. just below him lay a jump-off of about thirty feet, which in his fright he bounded over. When I reached the bottom, I found him moaning on a bed of sharp stones. PAGE TWINTY SIX