This time, instead of going to the rabbit squealer, Rex mimicked the coyotes with his call. They quickly closed the distance. Their shrill, intertwining voices sounded like a squadron of ham radios competing to get a clear signal from New Zealand. Four coyotes popped over a rise 70 yards away, back hairs straight up, bushy tails low in the coyote's typical skulking posture, sharp ears and pointed noses working like radar. As usual, the biggest dog was in the lead, a dark gray male that would go 50 pounds. The moment the leader paused, Rex dropped him with a scoped .25/06. The rest of the pack vanished and the air fell silent. He had taken the king of the pack.