Hunting the Prarie Wolf - Muzzle Blasts Archives

By Jim Van Eldik

    No that’s not a misspelling; that’s the way the original “Prarie Wolf” chronicler, William Clark, of the famed Lewis and Clark Expedition, referred to them. Though commonly referred to a “coyotes” these days, in honor the Corps of Discovery boys they will be referred to them by the more dignified Prarie Wolf title.

    One might ask, “Why would anyone want to hunt these discreditable creatures?” Admittedly this is not the type of game one normally thinks of for “harvesting” purposes. However, two reasons come to mind. In the dead of winter, these otherwise scruffy, down-at-the-heels looking creatures take on a more agreeable look. A thick whitish grey winter coat sprouts out on their emaciated carcasses admirably suitable for collars and fur hats.

    Second, the Prarie Wolf is one of the most entertaining and challenging game animals one can possibly hunt. I’m convinced in takes little more than a year for a Prarie Wolf’s IQ to surpass that of the average hunter’s - along with his sense of humor (more on this later). However, a successful hunt can be done. What follows will provide you with some sound information on how to hunt these wiley creatures, plus a personal sampling on how one might go about “blowing the shot.”

    A word here on the “where” of Prarie Wolf hunting. For starters - everywhere. Begin by looking under your front porch. To say the least, these little wolves adapt, and are comfortable living close to humans. As far as concentrations go, look first where there is a ready food supply, either carrion, or small, stupid animals. Let me interject here that one of the premier hunting grounds for these varmints used to be Los Angeles -- in particular West Hollywood and Beverly Hills. Here the mangy critters found a rich diet via a ready supply of small dogs (poodles) for their dinner menu. However, things are changing. As of late the movie people are wising up and equipping themselves with antiyote dogs - like Dobermans and massifs. Los Angles is no longer the hunting ground it used to be.

    A note here on using dogs for the hunt. The Prarie Wolf has a peculiar rocking/bounding gait when coursing across the prairie, each bound encompassing about five yards. It also has superior canine stamina. No domestic dog can match the Prarie Wolf’s speed or endurance. However, that doesn’t mean there will not be a chase. Once pursued by one of its canine cousins, the Prarie Wolf, of pure avarice, will slacken its pace maintaining just enough interval to keep the dog committed. By glancing back now and then it will know precisely when the dog’s heart is about to burst, and when it does, little wolf instantly disappears (more on this later).

    Anyway, back to hunting areas, probably the best hunting ground, and the one I always used, is in central Nebraska, viz., the old Oregon Trail. This Prarie Wolf Shangri-La was established by the trail of dead oxen left behind during the post Forty-niner migration west. Yes, the Little Wolves love carrion. In fact it has been asserted that they will eat anything up and including nitroglycerin.* However, this is not true. A Prarie Wolf WILL NOT eat another Prarie Wolf.

    Anyway, central Nebraska still maintains a large Prarie Wolf population. For dietary purposes the oxen carcasses have mostly been replaced by potato chip bags and Pepsi cans tossed out of cars along I-80. They will also eat an occasional newborn calf -- thus, Little Wolf hunters are welcome guests at most central Nebraska farms and ranches.

    As far as armament goes, one might question the use of muzzleloaders for hunting such an elusive game. Well let me say right off that William Clark was perfectly content blasting the Upper Missouri Prarie Wolves with an 1803 Harpers Ferry flintlock rifle. My friends and I have employed a variety of traditional armament including the Numrich swivel breach (providing two shots of course), the T/C Renegade, the Tennessee rifle, and stretching the idea of muzzleloader a bit, the Sharps percussion. This is not the handicap you would think. Almost without exception, every successful hit my friends and I have gotten on the critters has been on the first shot. And virtually all were at a hundred yards or less. Much of the hunting is done via “push” in which case the new lightweight in-lines make a perfect Prarie Wolf gun. 

    Admittedly most of the Prarie Wolves bagged in the hunting magazines are enticed in using “calls.” My friends and I always relied on the old “dying rabbit” call where one blows through a plastic tube producing a sound similar to the noise makers heard on New Year’s Eve. This call works, but it will only work once; the Prarie Wolf has a wonderful memory. These days there seems to be a preference for electronic devices. One of the most popular is called the “Banshee” which I understand uses a recording of Hillary Clinton’s laugh. The downside to calling Prarie Wolves is you never know the direction from which they will approach. One night, while waiting for the Little Wolves in a fence row, I was approached by a herd of cattle on the reverse side of the fence. They came within six feet of me making a terrible racket on the corn shucks. I was not able to observe the cattle due to the thick grass and weeds in the fence row. Later the guys informed me there were no cattle in the field -- it was a actually a lead footed Prarie Wolf sniffing me out. Had I brought my bayonet along I might have taken him with that.

    I have to say I always enjoyed the “sweeps” best. Trekking the wild and wooly Nebraska Sand Hills offers a chance to enjoy the terrain as well as hunt. It also provides a chance for adventure. I recall the time I was hiking along the slope of one of the hills and came to a patch of snow. I started across and immediately plummeted straight down into the snow only stopping my plummet by extending my arms. The snow hid a precipitous ravine I had to swim out of.

    Our “sweeps” composed three or four of us walking abreast encompassing about a half mile interval, and then simply hiking across the prairie. This approach provides lots of action, but not necessarily a lot of “harvested” Prarie Wolves. I recall in one of our early hunts a Prarie Wolf “busted” on the far right. He then passed in front of each of us in turn while we took our best shot at him. Upon completion of his successful run, and safely out of sight, he lit up in joyful song (laugh). Most embarrassing!

    In another incident, while shadowing a deep ravine, my “sixth sense” detected a Prarie Wolf lurking below. I kicked a clod of dirt into the Wolf’s likely hiding place, and out he came. I touched off one of my usual misses as the Little Wolf shot down the ravine. He eventually reached the valley below where he pulled up directly behind one of my friends standing on a knoll, peering off in the opposite direction. The Little Wolf eventually finally my friend and reversed course making off for parts unknown.

    This incident illustrates another point; these fur balls have a terrible time detecting stationary hunters, which accounts for the one adorning my vest in the illustration. This one did the “circle around” drill they habitually use and came directly at me, even though I was standing totally in the open -- but standing on snow in white coveralls.

    A final warning about hunting these critters, best explained with another illustration. I “nicked” a Prarie Wolf one time, and set off following his tracks and blood trail. He was not badly hit, so the trail went on and on and on. Eventually ANOTHER hunter of unknown origin began following the wounded animal. I was unhappy with this, but when a THIRD hunter joined the hunt I was irate. After a while it dawned on me that the boot prints I was following seemed very similar to mine. So I did a comparison and found they WERE mine. I was tracking the Prarie Wolf in a big circle. So I a took another turn around the circuit looking for the exit. There was none! Apparently the Prarie Wolf either ascended, or descended, or employed some other phantasmal move.

    Prarie Wolf hunting is not for the milquetoast.


* See Roughing It by Mark Twain.  

This article was originally printed in Muzzle Blasts Magazine. A digital archive of every Muzzle Blasts magazine is available online to all NMLRA members

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