I would trill; she would answer, from a distance. The black and white wild tom cat was barely visible peeking his eyes and ears above the hilltop just behind the gate to the west pasture beside the garage. There is a level area wide enough for a horse to walk, then the downhill slope to the overflow area behind the pond where the deer spooked right after a hunter took a buck and a deer from the back 40. (Nearness to people = safe area?)
Dumping a plastic container of cat food in the porch pan, then piling some on the floorboards, I held open the utility room door (house hall door closed - free house access for semi-wild outdoor cats not being on option). Black Stripe's three surviving from her first litter all came in; her mother Two Face's son Four on the Floor or his son Four's Son (can't tell them apart now that both are full grown) eventually came; Two's Blackie, her eldest daughter from the same litter as Four on the Floor came (the wildest of the wild ones), and Bandita's Beauty or Licker, who let me touch her and actually DID go inside for a second at one point.
When nearly an hour of coaxing still did not net the prize, I went inside for the hand dandy gripper. All but Blackie and BB/L were trapped inside, so Hint actually got up on the porch, putting her within reach.
The instant I had her trapped, she began panic purring, but relaxed in my arms. I'd recently had the inside house door handles switched to flippers that I could operate with my elbows, or I'd have probably lost my hold. Using the infamous foot shuffle to coax those inside back outside, I bumped the door closed with my rear and let her climb onto the top of the washer.