Coyote Brethren

In pursuit of fresh air and leash-free exercise, Nicholai and I head to the periphery of the metro area most days. There we enjoy solitude and a brush with the natural world.

Hitting the trail early in the mornings, it's not uncommon for us to grab glimpses – or whiffs - of the area's elusive inhabitants. Using his nose, Mr. Nick inspects the trail, often burying his snout in a clump of grass, nearly sucking it into his nostrils. On occasion, he will find it necessary to smell from various angles, scratch the area, and finally pee on top of it. When I see this, I imagine he is saying to local coyotes, "Take that! I am Domestic Dog and I claim this trail."

I have spotted coyotes in the dawn light, dashing under thick brush or slipping quietly into the trees. Nicholai has given chase on a few of these occasions, but quickly abandons pursuit. One gray morning, I watched two coyotes – one large and one small – slip across an open field and disappear into the cottonwoods. Nicholai gave no indication he was aware of the wild canid company. With my inferior nose, I can only assume the wily pair was downwind.

Coyotes have my respect. Vilified as varmints and pests, pushed out of their habitat, and hunted with impunity, they are survivors. Attempts to exterminate them have forced the naturally adaptable critters to become even more flexible. I read that coyotes eat primarily – not livestock (though they will when they can) – but rodents, rabbits, carrion, fruits, and even insects. Having observed Nicholai eat all but the insects, I have no doubt that his untamed brothers are even more adept at filling empty bellies with similar fare.

Finding deer carcasses picked nearly clean, I imagine that a pair, or a small group, of coyotes took it down and enjoyed a feast the night before. Nicholai will devour the leftovers – ribs, spines, and legs, right down to the hooves; domestic brother to these crafty canines.

Last month in southeast Oregon, a couple hosted a coyote killing event they called a Coyote Derby – "most dead coyotes (just bring in sets of ears) wins!" Sadly, this kind of event is not uncommon in the west, where predators are reviled as evil and where humans deign to play God and upset the natural order where predator and prey exist in balance.

I love to know that Nicholai's wild brethren are out there, licking each other's faces, slurping down voles, slipping ripe blackberries off the vine. I salute their perseverance, and I chuckle in the mornings, sure that they've left notes for Nicholai. "Watch out Domestic Dog – I am Coyote, and I survive."