Went up to the hunting property last Sunday with forum member Tegg and another friend. We cut up some downed trees and did other stuff, then time for some coyote hunting.
We made two stands and at the second stand we had one howl back at us. In retrospect, we should have stayed there and called longer. We couldn’t seem to move that one, so I decided to pull up stakes and head for one last sundown stand.
After a quick consultation with the owner of the cattle ranch we were hunting, I decided to set up in a back corner of the section. A cow had died back there a few days before and had produced a lot of coyote activity in the area as the cow is on the wrong side of a creek and can’t be gotten to with a tractor to remove it.
So we got on our gear and I shut the endgate and the horn beeped. You know, like it does when you lock the doors? Except for two things. I hadn’t locked the doors and more importantly the freaking keys were inside!
Oh my aching @ss. Somehow, someway, we had just managed to lock the keys inside the truck in the middle of the frozen tundra of Pine County at 5:00 PM on a Sunday. And dang nabbit, we were totally due to call in a coyote on that last stand too.
I haven’t locked my keys in a car for over 20 years, so I suppose it was bound to happen.
So after a brief consultation, we figured no tools, cell phones locked in the car of course, might as well start walking. Luckily we all were wearing all our clothes, hats, gloves, etc. So off we went back toward the county road. And as luck would have it, down the road comes the property owner!
Long story short, he takes us all back to the house and we use the phone to call Mrs. Grouse. Bless her English soul, she gets Granny to watch the Grouselets and jumps in the car to drive an hour and a half with the spare keys to rescue us.
Moral of the story: Plant a spare key somewhere on your truck.
Grouse