Years ago, I read an article in a gun mag about a coyote crossing a range where a platoon of soldiers were qualifying on the Ma Deuce. As soon as ol' Wile E. appeared, all muzzles swung in his direction and to a man, the soldiers opened up in full auto. A great cloud of dust erupted around the songdog and the fire continued with each glimpse of the varmint through the dusty haze until everyone ran their guns dry. As the the dust settled, Wile E. could be seen on the other side of the range, trotting through the underbrush without a care in the world