Although the denouncements of the recent Washington County Coyote Derby were as predictable as the turning of the tides, I had to chuckle at the knee-jerk negativity coming from people who obviously had never hunted coyotes. Allowing that back along I had listened to hounds running coyotes all day without getting a shot at the cagey critters, I’d have bet that fewer than a dozen would be tagged during the two-day derby organized by the Washington County Fish and Wildlife Conservation Club.

Accordingly, on learning that the total of coyotes killed was two, I laughed aloud. A far cry, that, from the Letter to the Editor describing the derby as an excuse to slaughter. Equally as ludicrous was a letter stating that the registration of only two coyotes proved there weren’t enough of them Down East to threaten the area’s depleted deer population.

In tracking the derby I cut the trails of coyote-control hunts held in other states. Tom Sitler, a Berwick, Pa., sportsman and active member of the Gouldsboro Point Good Times Rod and Gun Club, steered me onto Tom Austin, a Pennsylvania outdoors writer whose tenure with the Press Enterprise, a newspaper published in Bloomsburg, spanned 30 years. Via e-mail, Austin informed me that coyote derbies were popular in Pennsylvania. He said the fund-raising hunts organized by local fire departments and sportsmen’s clubs attracted hundreds of hunters and he couldn’t recall any anti-hunting opposition to them.

However, a 2003 coyote derby held in Vermont brought a barrage of protests. Nevertheless, considering the length of that derby (mid-December through March) relatively few coyotes were killed. In fact, none were killed during the first three weeks. Again, the predicted mass slaughter of the consummate predators didn’t occur. Understand that I’m not condemning the coyote by calling it a predator. To the contrary, as a hunter and somewhat of a self-taught naturalist, I admire the animal’s intelligence, resourcefulness, and remarkable ability to survive man’s many and varied attempts to eradicate it, particularly out west. Actually, most wildlife species are predators to some extent.

Joe Robbins, a member of the Pleasant River Fish and Game Conservation Association, which teamed with the Princeton Rod and Gun Club as derby checkpoints, had it right when we talked about coyotes and deer restoration: “You can’t blame the coyote for killing deer or rabbits or birds or anything else. That’s how he makes his living. The problem is there aren’t enough coyote hunters to control them.” Precisely. What’s needed are more hunters the likes of which I hooked up with a couple of weeks ago.

The creaking of the snow beneath the truck’s tires told us the wind-chilled temperature was well below zero when, handy to 8 a.m., Galen Ruhlin and I arrived on a shore of the Pleasant River in Addison. “Quite a crew here this mornin’,” said the head guide of the aforementioned Gouldsboro Point club.

“I’d say so,” I replied while climbing out of the cab. We were greeted by Mark Strout, who introduced me to his sons, Jeff and Scott; his brother, Gary; Kevin Beal, the brothers Dean and Sheldon Crosby, Bob “Bub” Alley, Mariner Burgess, Paris Hammond, and Ivan Wright. Not to mention a couple of black-and-tan hounds named Bruiser and Apollo in company with a Plott hound called Riley. I didn’t hesitate when Mark, the obvious director of the hunt, suggested we get out of the muscle-knotting cold.

While the truck shivered in the northwest wind, Mark predicted, “We shouldn’t be long in starting a race here. There are tracks all along these shores.” And he was right. A few minutes later, as if out of central casting, a coyote came out of the woods on the opposite shore, sprinted along the ice, and then darted back into the snow-mantled woods. Say, if I hadn’t known better I’d have thought I was watching a snowmobile drag race: Holding Bruiser and Apollo astraddle of their sleds’ seats, Scott Strout, Kevin Beal, and Bub Alley streaked across the ice-paved river. A distance of 200 yards or more.

It appeared that the hounds were off and running – wallowing, actually, in the deep, fluffy snow – before the sleds stopped. In short order the woods were filled with medleys of hound music. Gary Strout hiked across the river and took up a position directly opposite us while Kevin Beal and Bub Alley traveled upriver for about half a mile. “The river necks in up where they are,” Mark explained. “That coyote might try to cross there.” Right again. After sticking its face out of the shoreline spruces handy to where Gary stood, the coyote tucked back in and headed upriver with the hounds tolling in its tracks. Shortly thereafter, Bub shot the fleet-footed quarry where the river narrowed. A prime specimen, it weighed nearly 35 pounds.

“It’s not often that a race ends that quick,” Mark affirmed. “Usually it takes a while and there are days when we don’t fire a shot.” Most of the coyote crew are lobstermen who don’t fish in the winter. “We hunt because we enjoy it,” Mark continued. “And hopefully we’ll save a few deer at the same time. I’d say we have, too. Scott’s been seeing some behind his house over on Ripley Neck. They weren’t there a few years ago.”

“There you are,” I replied. “But since the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife discontinued the snaring program, nothing has been done to control coyotes.”

“Why’d they stop it anyway?” Mark asked quickly. “I heard it was working pretty good.”

“They were afraid that the incidental catch of Canada lynx, which are listed as endangered – and that’s another subject of controversy – would result in a lawsuit from an animal-rights group. I’ve heard the department’s trying to get snaring reinstated, though, which is the reason it gave for opposing the coyote derby. They said it would send the wrong message. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Politics,” Mark grumbled. “None of our crew entered the derby, though, because it only allowed three-man teams. It takes a lot of hunters, a lot of equipment, good dogs, and luck to kill coyotes. They’re smart and clever and tough and they travel far and fast. Start a coyote that’s on the move and it’ll usually head back to its home turf – and that may be several miles away. I’ll bet that one Bub just got in front of was headed way to hell and gone. As for eliminating coyotes, only Mother Nature can do that, with a disease or something. Hunting and trapping will never do it, that’s for sure. Last winter, from December through March, we killed 52. This winter, hunting in the same areas, we’ve tagged 28 so far. That tells you there’s plenty of them around. Too many. They’re thick and deer are thin.”

It can’t be said, however, that the coyote is solely responsible for the decline of the Down East deer herd. Loss of winter habitat (yards) to clear cutting is certainly a factor. Still, the signs indicating that the Washington County coyote population needs culling are clear. For example, when the parade of pickups left Addison, crossed Route 1 and marched toward Centerville, coyote tracks were seen along roads whose snow-plowed banks towered above the trucks. Shortly thereafter, we met two other hunters, Merton Lovejoy and Everett Farren, who were looking for bobcat tracks.

Where a brook crossed a road, Apollo and Riley took a track that followed a trail up a spruce ridge. The hounds weren’t long in starting but Ol’ Man Winter’s temper tantrum made for hard hunting. Wind-blown snow billowed across the barrens like spindrift streaming from breaking seas and the shadows within the shivering woods were blue with cold. We figured the wind-chill at 20 below, easy. Watching the younger hunters charge into the woods in knee-deep snow that was too soft to support a man on snowshoes, I said to Mark, “Remember when you could do that?”

“Yeah,” he answered wistfully. “And it doesn’t seem that long ago.” Hence, the gray-haired members of the coyote crew stuck close to the roads and I don’t mind saying I was among them. Galen Ruhlin’s comment regarding senior-citizen status typified Down East drollery: “It’s not getting old that bothers me, it’s the complications that come with it.”

The coyote was still playing hide and seek with the hounds when Galen and I departed for Gouldsboro that afternoon. “Y’know,” I said as we lurched along the snow-mounded roads, “The state ought to pay those guys a stipend to defray the costs of hunting these coyotes. Look what they spend on gas alone. Mark says he figures every coyote they kill costs them close to 300 bucks, and a fur only brings about $25.”

“That’s right,” said my old friend and hunting partner. “But you know as well as I do what they’ll get from the state. Besides, these guys don’t look for anything from anyone. They’re just hard workers and hard hunters who take care of themselves and mind their own business. Trouble is, other people can’t mind theirs.” Amen to that.

Let’s face it, wildlife-management programs will never satisfy everyone. Especially in these times of increasing anti-hunting and animal-rights activism. Wildlife scientists are constantly criticized for using lethal methods to control specific predator populations. Examples are the removal of raccoons, skunks, and foxes that destroy the nests of birds and waterfowl and the poisoning of sea gulls on islands that are the nesting grounds of terns and eider ducks. Peregrine falcons perch in the concrete canyons of New York City, placed there to prey on pigeons.

Fisheries scientists also are ridiculed for encouraging the killing of cormorants and mergansers to increase the survival of salmon parr and smolts; likewise, kingfishers, mink, otters, and the like that raid hatcheries. So it is that “rough fish” such as yellow perch, pickerel, and bass are removed from salmonid waters. Perhaps you’ve seen lakeshore signs urging anglers to kill all the bass they catch. “Cruel” and “inhumane” are adjectives that anti-hunters and animal rightists use to describe such management methods, but what other reasonable alternatives have they offered? None.

Dusk was drawing the curtains of night when I turned into my driveway. Before getting out of the truck, though, I sat contemplating the so-called changing culture and its continuous incremental erosion of the hunting heritage for which this state has long been admired and envied. Slowly shaking my head, I thought aloud, “It’s unbelievable. Whoever would’ve imagined it would happen here.” Recalling the quieter, slower, and much friendlier times when people hunted, trapped, and fished anywhere they pleased without any problems whatsoever, I walked toward the house muttering, reluctantly but realistically, “We’ve seen the best of it.”

Later that evening, Galen called me to say Gary Strout wrote the Centerville coyote’s death certificate an hour or so after we left. So it was that a group of dedicated Down East hunters added two coyotes to the tally of their winter-long derby. In conclusion I’ll say that I fully expect to see a letter or two condemning this column and me. Fair enough. The people who write those letters certainly are entitled to their opinions. Even if they’ve never hunted coyotes.

Tom Hennessey’s columns and artwork can be accessed on the BDN Internet page at www.bangornews.com. Tom’s e-mail address is: thennessey@bangordailynews.net; Web site address is: www.tomhennessey.com.