A Coyote Hunt Gone Bad Member Earl Romig
my fi nancée, Tami. I have been an avid outdoorsman since my father, a former National Guard rifl e team sharpshooter, taught me the value of hunting and shooting. It was my last day off before returning to work for a three-day stint on patrol in frigid, single digit temperatures. I wanted to take advantage of the fresh snow that was falling throughout the morning. As luck would have it the snow quit coming down early in the afternoon, and I knew the predators certainly would be on the move. I called my hunting partner I always hunt with, but on
J A long hospital stay followed the attempt on Earl’s life.
this afternoon he wasn’t able to go at the last minute. How- ever, I couldn't resist and made the decision to go alone for a quick afternoon hunt not far from home. I let my fi ancée know I was going to hunt coyotes, and luckily for me she didn't mind. My fi rst stop was by my house for some warm clothes for the single digit temperatures. I chose to put on two Under Amour winter gear long sleeve tops, and a pair of Under Armour winter bottoms, a decision which would later become crucial for survival. Also to keep warm I put on a pair of Danner boots, digital desert brown pants, and a white hooded sweatshirt with the word Lifeguard in large font with a large + in the center that signifi ed Lifeguard. Then it was a quick stop by my parents’ house to grab from the safe my Remington 700 SPS chambered in .243 with a Jewell trigger and my prized IOR optic. Before leaving the house, I let my dad know where I was going to hunt in the event I did not return or call shortly after dark. This has been our agreement since I was young. I chose an area that had produced a number of coyotes
Tami spent countless hours in the hospital with Earl as he recovered from the gun shot wound that nearly took his life.
in the past. To lure a weary coyote I had a digital call in the event my mouth calls froze up, as they occasionally did. I parked below an orchard, exited my car and loaded my rifl e. Then I put on my Peltor electronic earmuffs, a dark fl eece hoody, and a pair of gloves. As I walked up the orchard row I followed a set of fresh
tire tracks traveling between two orchard rows. When I was about 100 yards from the end of the row I noticed a white truck. An instant after I had noticed the truck a man stepped out from behind it and leveled a scoped rifl e at me. Initially I thought the man was looking through his optic to gain a better a look at me, but after a couple of seconds he did not lower the rifl e. Startled and scared, I quickly moved into a row of
trees. I paused for a moment to consider what I should do. Identify myself? Confront the man? Fire a shot? Run back to my vehicle? Call law enforcement (zero cell service)? Or avoid any possible confrontation and create distance away from this person. Then I wondered if the man was predator hunting as I
Months of physical therapy fi lled Earl’s life following the shooting.
Page 150 October — December 2011
was since he did not have on any hunter orange. Not wasting any time and not knowing what the man’s intentions were when he pointed his rifl e at me, I decided to move away from
anuary 10, 2008, I was 26 years old working as a sher- iff’s deputy, and had been engaged for two weeks to
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