[iamthepieman]

used to go out with two of my brothers in the fields near our house in northern Vermont. The grass was chest height on a full grown man with some shorter spots where clover or ragweed or shorter grasses had taken root.

We would hear the coyotes howling over the ridge and go to the middle of the field and call them. When they crested the ridge to investigate we would crouch down really low on all fours with our eyes down. They would creep up on us with two or three going off to our flanks. When they got close enough we would stand up, wave our arms and hoot and holler, scaring them off. It was probably foolish for many reasons but we were in our late teens or early twenties and thought that a three on three mano-e-pata match was no contest in our favor.

We didn't do this often but it happend more than once.