Coyote Killed By Man Wearing A Suit

By John Henry Spann

My family and I have been lucky enough to carve out a little piece on nature and tranquility in the north Atlanta suburbs. Growing up in Americus, the hustle and bustle of Atlanta and the seemingly endless suburban sprawl were a difficult adjustment for me. After attempting the cul-de-sac life for a few years, my wife and I decided to make the move to north Forsyth County six years ago. We bought 12 acres and have raised chickens, turkeys, goats, ducks, peacocks, rabbits, bees, dogs, cats and four amazing children here.

We are used to visitors in the form of all manner of wildlife but have been increasingly visited by a group of three coyotes that moved in over the last year and a half. They have taken a number of chickens, a few turkeys, a peacock and one of our barn cats. They have been a constant nuisance and have manged to elude my attempts to hunt and trap them.

John Henry Spann with the coyote he killed on the way out the door to chaperone a school event.

That changed on Saturday evening, Feb. 20. I work at a high school in Cumming and was getting ready to chaperone an evening event. I was putting on my suit and and tie in my bedroom and already running behind when I heard Blue, our bluetick coonhound, going absolutely crazy at the back window. Her typical hound dog howl, used for squirrels, leaves blowing in the wind and cars honking 10 miles away, was replaced with a much more aggressive and vicious howl that immediately grabbed my attention.

I raced to the back window and my heart leapt when I saw the same three coyotes I was so accustomed to seeing on my trail cameras trotting through the woods 100 yards from the house. My mind immediately jumped from adjusting my bow tie to protecting my animals and hopefully some fawns and poults, as well! I grabbed my Mossburg 500 and bolted out the backdoor hoping to cut them off as they crossed an old logging road that dead ends on my property.

I sprinted, crouched down with my shotgun in hand and waited for the invasive predators to cross the rocky, unused road. I waited and waited and waited. I saw no sign of them and was beginning to worry that they had turned tail when they heard the back door open. As I started to lose hope, the first yote, a 40-lb. male, eased silently out of the wood line and onto the road. I will never cease to be amazed at how quiet and well camouflaged the creatures in the woods can be.

I knew it was a long shot for my shotgun gun, but I decided this very well was my only chance. I put the bead over the center of the coyote and squeezed the trigger. The previously tranquil woods erupted with the blast, and the male coyote spun erratically and charged, much to his misfortune, straight down the wood line, parallel to the road and toward me. As he was running, I fired another shot and then another.

After the three shots had been fired, I saw him go down 30 to 40 yards directly in front of me. I tore after him, leaping over a fence, completely disregarding my freshly ironed khakis and I trounced through the mud and branches.

As I approached the wounded coyote, I realized that I had two major problems. First off, I was out of shells, and secondly, the coyotes was still very much alive and in a considerably worse mood after absorbing 00 buckshot while sprinting through the woods. To make matters even worse, I heard the door to my house open, and my four young children (ages 3 to 8), as well as my two dogs were running out to investagate.

11 Photos: Coyote Attack Caught On Trail Cam

At that moment, I was thankful for the one major advantage I had. Because I live in the state of Georgia, a state that still upholds and defends our God-given and constitutionally protected right to own firearms and carry them on our person, I reached for my hip holster. While yelling to my children to stay back and doing my best to call off my dogs, I pulled out my Glock 43X and fired three times into the animal’s vitals. The 9mm ammunition quickly dispatched the predator, finishing what the 12 gauge has started. I breathed a sigh of relief and drug the now dead coyote to the driveway.

We took a few pictures and I decided to throw him in the back of my truck before heading out. I got to play show-and-tell with the high school boys, and when I returned late that evening, I started the process of skinning and preparing the coyote. As I write this, I have a salted skin ready to be tanned, a skull prepared to be cleaned and bleached and coyote quarters in the freezer to be made into jerky. My wife isn’t crazy about the last part, but my 8-year-old son couldn’t be happier.

The whole adventure is just another reminder of all the things I have to be thankful for. I have a beautiful wife (with a less adventurous pallet than mine). I have four wonderful children who still think I’m the coolest dad in the world. I have a job where bringing a dead coyote to work gets me a pat on the back. I get to live in a country and state where my rights to hunt, fish and protect myself are still protected. And most importantly, I am loved beyond measure by a God who has given us a beautiful world in which to live and serve Him. What wonderful blessings. Who could ask for more!