coyote

There is a split second between experiencing a surprise and contemplating it when everything slows down and I am of one mind. When fishing, it's just as a living thing strikes the other end of my line. When driving it's when a Chevy Suburban does a 720 across four lanes of black ice right in front of me on the way to the Kansas City Airport. Since I am never of one mind, I relish these milliseconds of clarity perhaps more than most. This morning it was a coyote. A sly looking 35 pounds of sallow brown fur and teeth. Amy had told me there was one skulking around the other day, which may be why my own surprise on stepping out the front door with the dogs was so brief.

We followed him at a distance of 30 yards or so. He showed a disconcerting lack of concern over the suburbanite and his soft dogs. Crumley and Iris pulled on their leashes and showed hackles and all of that, but they were quiet about it. I don't know if their lack of usual bravado betrayed an uneasiness with actually catching up with a wild thing or if they were reverting a more primal silent running. Or maybe it was simply curiosity.

He finally slipped between two townhouses and we resumed our walk. Later as I ate half a grapefruit and read the Sun-Times, Crumley let out three booming barks and I looked up through the patio door to see the same coyote trotting through the backyard. It makes sense. They're resourceful and found everywhere from Alaska to South America to Central Park. The Western Suburbs has millions of rabbits and squirrels, and we're near multiple forest preserves. It was fairly early so it's possible he'd been out night hunting and had gotten far away from his den and was now attempting to find his way back. I know these townhouses all look exactly the same to me.