Ava Grace’s First Coyote

It had been a tough deer season. We had spent a great deal of time hunting one particular buck. As this season had been a drought season, many deer were definitely not showing their full genetic potential — even still, we had a target buck in mind and were consistently chasing it.

Out here in West Texas, Mother Nature always gets the last say, and in most cases, we don’t even harvest any deer. But one particular buck we had been after for the past two years — what I’d consider a real “shithead” — had a distinct characteristic that made him identifiable, even in drought conditions, when most deer are looking rough and certainly not expressing their full potential.

As we and many others have said many times before, antler growth is less about genetics and more about stressors — and drought is one of those undefeated variables you can’t beat in a low-fence setting.

It’s important to mention that in our part of the world, the minute you let a target buck walk until the rut, your odds of harvesting him drop drastically. And this was late season. To say I didn’t have high hopes of getting on the old shithead would be an understatement.

As we sat in the deer stand for several days in a row, I could tell Ava had grown tired of the fruitless pursuit and was definitely ready to move on to other activities. But as always, deer came first — then we would move on to the coyotes.

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The Setup

One beautiful afternoon, I noticed the few does we had lingering around had suddenly disappeared. In the draw ahead of us, I caught a streak of that wiry animal I love to pursue scampering about. I quickly told Ava to go ahead and get ready — I had just seen a coyote.

She perked up and sat at the ready with great attention. I began to ready my camera and gave a few lip squeaks.

Just a short series — and he appeared.

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The Moment

As a father and an avid hunter, I pride myself in my ability to remain calm at all times. It’s something I’ve worked on for many years. But nothing prepared me for the sudden rush of emotion I would experience this time.

This was to be Ava’s first coyote, and I had my camera in hand.
Would I capture this moment?
Would she make a good shot?
I had to focus on the camera — while keeping her calm and coaching her through it.

Ava is a great marksman, but she still lacks experience moving quickly on an animal. She’s harvested multiple deer at this point and proven herself to be a thoughtful, ethical shooter — only willing to take a shot when she’s absolutely certain of the result.

But coyotes are coyotes — and this one was closing fast, never really staying still. I watched the coyote and instructed Ava:

“Get on him… but don’t shoot until you’re ready. Breathe.”

As the wiry coyote slowly and cautiously made his way closer, he started to grow visibly nervous. As a father, you want your kids to succeed — especially in moments like this. I hadn’t experienced emotion like this in quite some time. In fact, the last time I recall this level of emotion was when Dylan killed his first coyote.

Suddenly Ava started fidgeting — with a wasp, of all things, which she’s no fan of.
I quickly whispered, “What are you doing?”
She replied, “Wasp,” probably a little too loud.
I said nothing — only stared at her, trying to keep things calm.

I knew the coyote wouldn’t stick around long. He was nearing 60 yards now and had climbed up onto a small dirt mound. I softly growled to grab his attention, hoping this would give her the chance she needed. He posed perfectly — and for what felt like an eternity.

Pssshhh. The suppressor barked.
The projectile hit perfectly.
The coyote ran several steps and dropped.

I had captured the whole thing through the lens of the camera.

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The Aftermath

We sat in silence for a moment. Finally, I said, “Congratulations.”

And honestly — that’s all I could get out.
I was beyond excited and happy for Ava Grace, more than I could ever put into words.

Then I found the words:

“That’s freaking awesome, Ava. Great shot.”

She was very excited and immediately wanted to go retrieve him.
But since we were still hoping for the buck to show, we sat a little while longer.

Perhaps what made me even more proud than the shot itself was what came next.

When we arrived at her trophy for a photo, she asked,

“Can we take it back and show Brooke and Dylan?”

“Of course,” I replied.

Then, without hesitation, she picked up the coyote and began our walk back to the truck. She never complained — just grunted a few times — and carried her trophy the entire way.

I offered to give her a drag multiple times, which would’ve made the job far easier.
But she insisted — she would carry her coyote back to the truck because she wanted to ensure it didn’t get dirty or messed up. That made me chuckle a little.

We as men are often taught to be the strong, silent type all our lives. But nothing prepares you for the many emotions you’ll go through as a father, and how exactly to deal with them. If I’ve learned but a few things as a dad, one is this:

It’s okay to let your kids know how proud you are of them.