We live right up against the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, with Pikes Peak looming behind the hills like an avenging kaiju in a monster movie. The animal-human interface is crowded and stressed here. On the video camera that overlooks the driveway, we’ve seen bears, coyotes, wolves, and once something that looked like a bobcat, all strolling casually down the concrete slope in the middle of the night like they are raiding the fridge.
This winter, we saw lots of tracks in the snow in the yard. I even repaired a small section of the fence, to attempt to steer them around the yard.
This weekend, I awoke to find a coyote lying motionless in the back yard. He did not look well, and at first I thought he had died. I even went so far as to dial up Animal Control to find out what to do with a dead coyote on my property, but when I looked out to check up on him, he was gone. He must have been warming himself in the late morning sunshine.
He was back a short time later, with a companion. I will try to avoid anthropomorphising the two coyotes, but they appeared to be a male/female pair. The female looked more healthy than the male, and larger. Clear traces of mange affected his fur and skin, particularly near the tail. He picked and bit at his skin as the female looked on.
We decided it was best to scare them off. I have nothing against wildlife, but I don’t want them to be too comfortable living in our yard.
I walked out onto the deck. I clapped my hands. Both coyotes lifted their heads, alert to danger. I clapped again.
The female shot off into the late morning, turning and bounding out past the back fence in a matter of seconds.
The sickly male remained. I clapped one last time. And the entire reason I’m writing this post occurred just then: he rose up on all four legs, appearing much larger and stronger than I suspected. He actually looked at me, assessing, no doubt, if I was a threat or not. Then he leaped up the incline, quickly and easily, no trace of sickness or infirmity, and was gone.
The ease with which he summoned his strength stuck with me. I take no larger lesson from the moment. But on a day I am struggling to get over back pain, and a day where I am struggling to make my word count, and struggling with a dozen other things, the image of his effortless escape encourages me. I spotted his mange-ravaged tail as he bolted off; he’s still sick, and given how far he ranged into human territory, probably hungry too. But that moment when he transformed in my mind from diseased animal to magnificent creature was alchemy: sickness recast into strength.
The image lends me the courage to face the day.
Link time. My last two stories, my first novel, and the websites:
My latest story: Fuck, Marry, Kill
February’s story: Veronica Scissors
My first novel, Life Under Water
My website: jeffmwood.com.
My Amazon page.
My erotic story series, Serious Moonlight (as J G Cain)
Peace.
