Raising Coyotes - Spring, 1926

Ed's Day Wednesday

Dear FOLKS,

This story happened to Edwin "Tom" Ostrom, beginning in the Spring of 1926, on his father's 160-acre homestead that was acquired in 1908.  The homestead was 6 miles east northeast of Douglas, North Dakota, one-mile north of Hwy 53, in the SW quarter of section 23, in Spring Lake Township.

IMAGE: left to right Tom Ostrom, Arvid Ostrom
 each holding a coyote pup.
Photographer: Anna Brekke Ostrom
Photo from Edwin "Ed" Ostrom's private collection.

The interview held with Tom Ostrom was taped and transcribed by his son Edwin "Ed" Ostrom in 2005:

The narrative begins:

“Oh that Coyote. We were still losing lambs and finally I spotted it. I was plowing one day in this field and I spotted her. But it was pretty close to evening so I had to go to the barn and take care of the horses. I knew because of the way she acted she was awful close to her den.

After taking care of the work horses, I took the saddle horse and rode out there. I followed and spotted her again. Somehow she led me right to the den and sure enough I found it.

I went home. I knew she would be there the next morning because during the day she would be out hustling for her pups. Early dawn the next morning Arvid, my brother and I rode out to near the den. Arvid stayed back to watch while I went to the den.

Coyotes don’t have the claws so they can’t dig their own new hole. They use a badger hole instead. This hole was built into the side of a hill so the old mother could come out and look around.

I could hear her puppies yip, yip, yipping. I knew the mother was in there because I could hear her grunting. She was grunting because the pups were nursing.

Arvid and I went home to figure out what to do with them. We went back that night and I brought along all the equipment we needed: 7 gunny sacks, one for each pup and one for the mother, a shovel to open it up enough so we could reach into the den, a barrel to put the coyotes in, a 30-30 rifle, lots of rope, a flashlight and a stick. We didn’t use grain sacks as Pa would have a fit. They were too precious and used for other things; like resewing the fabric for aprons and clothes.

The coyote mother came out part way so I shot at her but missed; and away she went.

We felt safer that she was gone because we didn’t know what she’d do to us when we were pulling her puppies out. Another trouble was we didn’t know if the male was in there. They claim males never go in the den with the pups but they will hunt for them. They will kill a rabbit or something and the mother will pick it up and take it to the pups. They also claim that the male will bring food to the mouth of the den but won’t go in.

I didn’t have the nerve to go down in there but I had to. I went in head first with a flashlight and saw the pups. The den was padded all up with grass and straw.

Arvid wouldn’t go in there.  He stood back. I looped a rope around one of my ankles leaving the other leg free so I could move around if I needed to. If both legs were tied together I couldn’t wiggle my way out of there. I thought this over, you bet your life, before I went  in there. The hole wasn’t big enough to roll over. My arms were tight to my body. Before I went in I gave the end of the rope to Arvid. If he couldn’t pull me out he was supposed to attach the rope to the horn of the saddle in case I had to get out in a hurry. I didn’t know exactly what I was getting into you know but I was pretty sure because I had talked to guys who had dug coyotes out of a den.

I took two sacks with me not having the slightest idea how many were in there. I was thinking I could put the pups all in one sack but that didn’t work so I put 4 in one sack and 5 in the other sack. The pups were the size of big cats. I had gloves on though, in case I got to close to their sharp teeth. I brought two extra ropes with me and tied a rope on one sack and Arvid pulled it out. Then I put the remaining 5 pups in the other sack and hollered to Arvid to “Pull 'er out, pull 'er out.”
 
We towed a stone boat(1) out there with a team of horses and we had a barrel sitting on the stone boat. We put some straw in the barrel and put the nine puppies on top of the straw.

It’s scary to go into a den. I had a two-foot-long stick with me in that hole in case a coyote came out biting and scratching or if another coyote was in there. The hole was a gradual decline and then it started back up again. They say the male will go in and help the female dig the badger hole bigger for her den and bring her food before she gives birth.

We dug out nine pups that Spring. Well, then I knew I was going to raise coyotes. I didn’t think I could raise nine so I killed three.  I don’t remember if I got a bounty on those or not, but I kept six.

I then made a pen for them. You could howl and they would howl, all six of them would howl. In the summertime we let them out. They were puppies, you know. We had a dog by the name of Donnie. When we hollered, “Donnie come here.” Donnie would round them up and they would go back to their pen. They hated to go back to the pen. Donnie never bit them or anything. He’d round them up just like sheep and herd them into the pen where they’d go for the night.

I was about fifteen then, I guess. But those coyotes grew and they were so pretty too. They were hard on Ma’s chickens. She [Anna] would say, “That’s it, you got to get those coyotes in. You can’t let them out because my chickens are disappearing.”

Well, every once in awhile we’d catch one of Anna’s chickens and throw one in the coyote pen. That poor chicken would squawk and each coyote would have a piece of chicken. Anna put the stop to that too. Everything went along fine during the fall. I was going to keep the coyotes till after Christmas in January. I don’t remember what else I fed them. Anna’s poor chickens were the main thing.
 
Then finally I killed my coyotes. I skinned them out and made a drier. I was very proud of my skinned coyotes. That was a big thing to get in those days. I had shot one some time before and got fourteen dollars for the hide. That was a lot of money for those days.

I went into Minot one day with Oscar who took me up there. We went to the Minot Hide and Fur Company.  They knew me because I had traps and a trap line. I’d also brought in my skunks and weasels before. Owner said, “Son, you’re going to be quite disappointed when I give you an offer on these.” I said, “Why?” Owner said, “I’m going to give you one dollar and fifty-five cents for all 6 of them.” Tom, “You must be absolutely out of your tree.” Owner, “That’s all I can do. Those coyotes, they were raised.” Tom, “Yes, how’d you know?” Owner, “You can tell it. Their fur isn’t goldy like they would be out.” So I combed it out too. But the fur was knotty. Owner, “That’s all I can do.  If you don’t want that, you can send them down to Fargo.”

I took them down to Fargo. I got a check for one dollar and sixty five cents for the furs. That was my experience.

Anna would laugh. She had all those missing chickens and was very happy I got rid of all those coyotes.”

Individuals mentioned in this interview:

1. Edwin "Tom" Ostrom (1911-2007) - son of Oscar and Anna Brekke Ostrom
2. Arvid Tillman Ostrom (1914-1999) - son of Oscar and Anna Brekke Ostrom
3. Oscar Ostrom (1884-1973) - son of Olaus Ommundson Ostrom and Toline Gunnulsdatter Paulson
4. Anna Tomina Brekke Ostrom (1890-1972) - daughter of Torstein Andreassen Brekke and Anna Olsdatter Stavaas

Note: These Ed's Day Wednesday articles are from the collection by Edwin "Ed" Ostrom (1942-2015). Ed noted that the photograph included here was given to him by his first cousin 1 x time removed, Ione Peterson Schooler (1920-2005).It is my plan to publish Ed's stories, thus sharing them with many.

(1)  According to Wikipedia.com a "stone boat" is a type of [flat-bottomed] sled (sledge) for moving heavy objects such as stones or hay bales.