Coyote, ululating on the hill,
is it my fire that distresses you so?
Or the memories of long ago
when you were a man roaming the hills.
Jaime de Angulo, Coyote’s Bones
They’ve set a bounty on coyotes in a neighboring town; very distressing news to hear. I’d been waiting all winter for the weather to break to hear their nightly conversations.
Last fall we were out in a nearby field, walking our dog, and were followed cautiously by a ghostly friend. Slipping in and out of sight, it kept watch, pensive and waiting for our next move.
When spring came we could hear them in the distance rejoicing after a successful hunt. Down by the creek bed, out in the small sliver of woodland that the village leaves wild as a feeble reminder of nature, they hunt and sing. In the morning finding a bit of torn rabbit hide, calcified droppings; it was good to know they were there.
Now the county has sent out trappers. Their call was a way to ride out into the Eternal, now with cries cut short, there’s another road block on the path to grace.