I’m still wrapping my head around squirting something with a walking stick.
Coyotes around here (NY) know that my presence means bad.
So they avoid me like the plague.
Sadly, they make guest appearances for others, when I can’t smack the things for being pests.
They are very smart. They know what a pelt hanging on a fence means. They know what a rifle looks like - at least the ones that survive do.