Bessie the basset cut loose again on the patio with her “I see you, Mr. Coyote, beware; stay away!” bark. It’s quite distinguishable from her “watchdog” bark at joggers and bikers a quarter of a mile away on the road going by….or her “If only I could get out of this kennel/off of this tie, I’d get you, Mr. Jackrabbit!” bark. (She wouldn’t of course, they’re so blinding fast, even the coyotes don’t manage it unless they can surround, ambush, team up as a pack.) Whatever else she’s communicating, the “coyote bark” seems a bit more feisty.
I went to the big picture window and looked out. And there it was, maybe 50 yards off our “pad,” carefully, stealthily, slipping through the creosote bushes and yucca, looking for one of those tasty rodents, out of its burrow for a bit of breakfast. A coyote hunting again….yet.
Although I “anthropomorphize,” it strikes me that the local coyotes adopt three basic attitudes toward our dogs (and we never let them roam free for a different kind of contact with the coyotes). Often a coyote will stop and look at ferocious Bessie, with what seems to be an unconcerned attitude, perhaps like, “Oh, yes, there’s that noisy dog. What a fuss for someone who’s in no position actually to do something about my presence. Interesting.”
I really never see a coyote react with anything like hostility or any “fear” other than some slight posture of caution. Nonetheless, the unconcern (the local coyotes probably having gotten very used to the dogs being up here by the house) often seems so complete that when one looks up at the dogs, I can speculate a bit more of an “attitude”….perhaps like, “Me? You’re barking at me? Do I look worried? Count your lucky stars that you’re watched over by those humans you live with, or ‘watchdog’ could become ‘hot dog.’ Wonder how you’d taste?” And, in fact, too common are the local stories about small dogs and cats and other domestic animals becoming coyote food when they’re loose. Hey, it’s not easy being a predator; you take whatever meals of opportunity you can. Hunting’s not easy, whoever you are.
And it probably wasn’t easy for this coyote going by the house. It looked like a big male to me. And he didn’t pay any attention whatsoever to barking Bessie; he was busy looking for that rodent meal. If he thought anything at all about her commotion – and he gave no evidence – it might have been something like, “Sorry, I really don’t have time for this. Not to be rude about ignoring you, but the missus is expecting me back pronto with a fat rat.” He crossed the gravel driveway – again, quite close – continuing his hunt; and in so doing, gave me a really good look (besides, I had grabbed one of the pairs of binoculars we always have handy).
But if hunting was hard for Mr. Coyote – and I don’t know how it wouldn’t be in this arid, bare, desert environment – you sure couldn’t tell by looking at him. He was magnificent! Large, not at all the scrawny coyote you sometimes see here in the desert….muscular-looking, actually. Beautifully furred, full, bushy tail; and his coat was a multi-colored combination of gray, tan, black flecks, and orangy-reddish accents. He was so fine, I’ve only seen coyotes in the wild that have rivaled him in the northern forests in the Upper Midwest in winter, when a large, mature animal will sport a full, thick coat of fur that looks just luxurious.
It was nice that he came by, an occasion to give thanks.
The Rev. Dr.'s Musings on Nature, Life & Belief 