Two days ago, my neighbor described an early-morning scene with her elderly dog who is on chemotherapy:
Her lovely pet (whose face-kisses I frequently seek out) has had a burst of energy
recently after getting over some early side effects of his cancer treatment. In his characteristic
protectiveness, he began to chase a coyote off the property.
This particular young coyote I have seen many times myself this season: he’s a strapping lad with shiny coat, bushy tail, and muscles that look like a body-builder’s. Seriously, he is that buff! And he is always alone. But his pack must be nearby; we frequently hear coyotes howl as they bed down.
But things turned scary with my neighbor’s dog chase: the bold coyote suddenly wheeled
around mid-chase and became the pursuer. My neighbor’s frail dog became prey. In her
bathrobe, my neighbor ran into the frosty yard and began yelling at the coyote, repeatedly
calling out in order to scare him away from her dog, her house. Finally, the coyote left.
After hearing this story, I recalled another odd experience on our property four days ago. A border collie I don’t know was running across the grass with another canine that was hard to see but which at first glance appeared to be a small German shepherd. Except the coloring and the behavior of that second canine were all wrong: nothing “shepherd” about that guy when I got a clear view. I watched the collie sniffing, darting in zigzags following scents, moving toward the fenced area where another neighbor’s dogs reside: all things that seem normal with a loose pet dog on a new property. But that other canine was furtive. Slunking. And quick to disappear. I vaguely thought it was weird. But work beckoned and I stopped watching the action outside in the yard. In retrospect, I realized that the other canine had been a young coyote.
Today as we hiked through the forest (where I have also seen many signs of coyote over the years), a woman approached us carrying a large branch. She breathlessly told us that she’d heard very recent reports of coyotes attacking pet dogs with their owners on forest trails; she carried the stick as protection in case she encountered such a coyote. “They’re wild animals,” she cried. We couldn't have agreed more!
* * *
It’s true. Coyotes are wild creatures.
We are habituated to them on this little island. They arrive in our yards, eat our fruit, leave ample scat, take resident-but-wild rabbits for meals, and bed down nearby. I have seen coyotes play with apples like pet dogs play with balls. I have greeted them when I arrive home and see them at a distance across my yard. I certainly have considered how dog-like they are. I love seeing and hearing them, photographing their hulking bodies, and I consider it a grand gift on any day that I am proximate to one.
But these same coyotes howl a haunting chorus when they arrive back to their dens, reminding us what they are. They are wild. These coyotes are present and common but they are not our pets.
The most respectful attitude, the deepest appreciation we can offer coyotes, is to give them space. To not let them habituate to us.
Wild animals are, indeed, wild.
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2020 Jennifer J. Wilhoit/TEALarbor stories. All Rights Reserved."
