I planned to write for a few hours early yesterday morning. Had I been in my office working, I would have completely missed nature’s gift!
These early autumn days tend to make me feel sleepy so I was getting a later start than usual; dawn had just arrived casting a pale gray light across the landscape. I had finished my coffee and was taking my mug to the sink when my peripheral vision caught a blur of movement.
Something dark and furry was headed into our yard.
Dashing to the glass front door I saw a very healthy coyote – thick, spotless coat; fleshy body; wide-open, alert eyes. I said, too loudly and with great enthusiasm, “Look! It’s a coyote!” – as if this were something new. We have coyote scat and individual coyotes on our property frequently. I have found perfect tracks in the mud and snow in winters past. I have said, “Hello!” to a coyote on a number of occasions as he traverses the far field. But I have never seen a coyote come this close, ten feet from our deck.
I realized that the coyote was furtively rushing toward the pear tree in front of me. He grabbed a fallen fruit and began nibbling, pieces of his meal dribbling onto the grass at his feet. This animal had heard my loud exclamation through the door and, wary, had his eyes fixed on me. He plucked another pear from the tall, dewy grass and held it in his mouth as he trotted away toward the field. Then I saw that he was not alone; there was another coyote chewing up a pear near the shed at the edge of the field. The second one also appeared very robust and strong. These were wild creatures who seemed to have taken full advantage of the summer’s bounty of vegetation…and still were.
For ten or fifteen minutes I watched in awe as the coyotes took turns running to claim one prized bite after another. I couldn’t stop smiling.
Two weeks ago, I had intended to collect and compost the fallen pears as they seemed to have attracted every wasp on the island. I guessed that the wasps would be just as able to find and feast on the fruits a hundred yards away at the compost pile, and I would be free to walk barefoot in the late summer grass of my yard. But now I am utterly delighted that travel, work, and other tasks recently have kept me from ushering away the coyotes’ meal.
The profound impact that comes with observing wild creatures at close range never diminishes for me. I feel a kinship with them - intrigued by their presence, connected to their opportunistic manner. And I will never ever cease to pause in my day when nature’s wildness comes calling at my door. Earth’s magnificence compels me deeper inward and more broadly outward.
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2019 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
