Coyote Encounter

It was cool this morning, somewhere in the mid to high 30s, and the dogs were energetic and impatient for their morning constitutional. I really enjoyed the walk, the crispness of the air, leaves crunching underfoot, brightly colored foliage and autumn wildflowers. I was in something of a reverie when a coyote darted across the road a mere 10 yards ahead of us. The boys were off in a flash and ran the leads out to their full 16 feet before I could brace myself, so they dragged me down the road and into the woods for a few yards before I could get them under control. I had to be careful because I didn’t want Jesse backing out of his collar and dashing off into the woods after the coyote.

Thereafter, the boys were in a state of gleeful excitement and watchfulness. Jesse’s tail was up, and he was practically prancing as he walked.

We sometimes hear the coyotes’ mournful baying in the evening, but we rarely see them. They are shy of humans, and I reckon the presence of the dogs keeps them from getting too close to the house. They aren’t much of a nuisance except that poultry must be kept inside at night. They keep the cat population down, and I view the presence of large predators as a sign of a healthy environment. Bring on the cougars!

I have not heard of a coyote bothering cattle or goats in the neighborhood, but the nearest goatherd has a large sheepdog around the flock. The belted cows are probably too much for a coyote to mess with. Even the calves would be difficult to handle, especially with their mothers nearby. So the coyotes must content themselves with poultry, fawns, turkeys, housecats, and assorted wildlife. The one I saw this morning seemed unusually healthy, sleek and well nourished, so there must be a good living to be had on the mountain.

I wonder what the coyote thought of his canine cousins on leashes. Does he envy them or hold them in contempt? Jesse lived in the park for the first two plus years of his life and enjoyed his freedom until he was hit by an automobile. We took him in, and he adjusted quickly to a comfortable domesticity. If we hadn’t tamed him, he would have been dead of heartworm within a few months. He traded his freedom for a longer life, security, warmth and companionship. I wonder if he misses his feral life, his freedom. Or does he prefer the pack he lives in now and the leadership of the alpha, Mrs Vache Folle? He loves his Mrs VF. Me, not so much.