by MARCUS SCHNECK, For The Patriot-News
Sunday February 15, 2009, 12:02 AM
The late afternoon daylight slips away as Ben Smyser sneaks to the edge of a field near his Carlisle home.
The few residents in the development just over the hill who might see him as he eases toward the edge, where field joins forest and his quarry prefers to sneak in through the thick underbrush, probably think he's pursuing fox.
They might have spotted a coyote in their neighborhood and convinced themselves it was a German shepherd. They probably don't know that thousands of hunters across the region have registered to participate in coyote hunts that run from late January to early summer. Most hunts take place in February and March.
There are so many coyotes in the state that the Pennsylvania Game Commission can't provide an accurate estimate of how fast the population is growing.
"The way coyotes have adapted to urban and suburban areas, we can't even tell you the numbers," said Jerry Feaser, a commission spokesman. "Obviously, the population is far higher [than the previous estimate of 25,000 to 30,000]. ... Every municipality in Pennsylvania now has some coyote presence. They may not be living there, but they definitely are passing through at least. ... Our developed areas are providing a banquet for them."
For some residents of suburbia, the first sign of coyotes comes with the report of a missing cat or dog. Missing domestic and farm animals are one means Smyser uses in locating coyotes.
He said he expects more people living in the suburbs to come face to face with coyotes as "housing developments are moving in and encroaching on coyote habitat or nearby areas."
Smyser, 23, hunts coyotes from October through February. During the upcoming spate of organized coyote hunts -- some paying thousands of dollars for the heaviest coyotes harvested -- he plans to pursue the canines day and night next weekend.
The oldest and largest of the hunts is run by Mosquito Creek Sportsmen's Association in Frenchville, Clearfield County. Last year, about 4,000 hunters registered to participate and brought in 177 coyotes for weighing. The event paid $8,000 to the hunter killing the heaviest coyote, a male that weighed nearly 51 pounds.
The hunt was started by club members to help a farmer who was losing sheep to coyotes.
In 18 years, it has grown into a statewide event and a fundraiser for the club, said Deb Collar, the membership chairwoman. All participants must become club members for $10 and pay a registration fee of $10, of which $8 is put toward prize money.
Coyotes must be weighed at the club, which "brings a lot of people" there for the weekend and helps to raise more money through the sale of T-shirts, hats and other items, and from the meals and refreshments the kitchen produces, Collar said.
This year, there will be about 20 hunts across the state. Although he's registered for the Mosquito Creek hunt, Smyser is not an advocate for organized hunts.
"There are a lot of people out there trying to get their hand in the money jar, and it's only a matter of time until the animal-rights people shut them down," he said. "I entered Mosquito Creek's hunt because I'll be hunting anyway."
The organized hunts have drawn more people into hunting coyotes, he said. The 177 coyotes killed during last year's Mosquito Creek event were harvested across much of the state. In comparison, bear hunters in November's three-day hunt in recent years have harvested about 3,000 bruins, and the Game Commission considers that a sustainable level.
The commission considers coyotes so abundant and so difficult for hunters to kill that it has placed almost no protection on the species, with practically unrestricted seasons and no limits.
Serious coyote hunters use the latest electronic and mouth-blown predator calls to mimic the sounds of distressed rabbits and other coyotes. But they kill only a small percentage of the coyotes they call into ambush.
Smyser, who has killed only one coyote in five years, said taking even one is "a big deal in Pennsylvania."
He doesn't view the animal as smart in a human sense but said, "A coyote just knows how to use its senses. When we smell a burger, we smell a burger. When a coyote smells a burger, it smells the meat, the bun, the mustard, the onions, everything."
Smyser first tried coyote hunting in 2004 after the digital wave revolutionized and miniaturized predator hunting. He never carried one of the 20-pound record players and similarly large speakers, which were state of the art 30 years ago, into the field. But he can imagine that "it was a haul to carry something like that around."
He has heard the sound quality of those old players and wonders whether predators ever responded to them "the way they snapped, crackled and popped."
Although many serious predator-callers pride themselves on the level of skill they've developed in producing authentic wildlife sounds with hand calls, the small palm- and book-sized electronic calls have provided a quicker, easier route to success for many others.
For Smyser, the calling of the coyote is only the end of the hunt. "A lot about coyote hunting is your setup," he said.
He studies topographic maps and aerial photos to find the most promising sites, which he then examines on the ground, to forecast "how the coyote is going to come into this setup." He spends time in the area, listening for the howls of the coyotes, getting a fix on their travels and
haunts.
All that must be accomplished with a light touch, because "if you get in there and harass them enough, they're going to leave," he said.
But all the skills and knowledge required to outwit a coyote also can be rewarded with heart-pounding moments.
"When you least expect it, bam, you see eyes and they're bouncing toward you," Smyser said. "It's an adrenaline rush."