Five Years Ago Today: Cleverness of the Coyote

By motomynd

[Originally published on August 19, 2013.]

In Native American legend, and in real life, the coyote is known as a creature of crafty intelligence and humor. I’ve been around them enough in various parts of the country to give them great credit for above average intelligence and awareness, but I’ve dismissed much of their vaunted standing as hype.
    Now I’m not so sure. Case in point: I have no photos to contribute with this post, and I should.
    Some background. In my quest to downsize from the professional camera gear I’ve lugged around my 30-year career, I settled on a 20-ounce wonder – the Panasonic Lumix FZ200 – as my one do-it-all camera to keep with me at all times. No, it doesn’t actually do it all, but it has a built-in lens that covers from 25mm ultra wide angle to 600mm telephoto, and it captures true HD video, so it comes close.
    My wife and I bought this camera before a trip to California earlier this year, learned to use it on the flight from Raleigh to Los Angeles, and we have carried it with us just about all the time since. We keep it in the car, because you never know what you might see. It is so light I even carry it the three or four evenings a week we walk the country road that runs past our house in rural North Carolina.
    In the seven months we have owned this camera I have photographed more than 70 species of birds with it. Want a video of a gobbler doing its mating dance and wooing a female turkey? I have that, taken at the farm next door, this past May. How about photos and video of a barred owl not only out in daylight, but doing its night-time call? I have that too.
    Between our resident deer in North Carolina and at our Virginia house I have hundreds of still images, and hours of video, of some 17 different fawns, does, and bucks.

What I do not have is a photo, or video, of a coyote – even though they are plentiful around here. Why don’t I have images to prove it?
    This is where the legend of coyote as trickster comes into play.
    I have carried the camera on something like 80 trips into town and 100 walks: I have not seen a coyote on any of those outings. I can think of two trips into town when I did not take the camera: I saw coyotes both times. I can think of two walks with my wife when I did not take the camera: We saw coyotes both times. Make of it what you wish, but I’m beginning to wonder if the Native Americans were onto something when they attributed supernatural traits to the coyote.
    Have you ever had one of those moments you know will stay with you until you die? One day I was driving into town and took a detour onto a seldom traveled back road. In the field on the left side of the road the hay was freshly cut and put up in large rolls. On one of those rolls, barely 50 yards from the car, sat a coyote! I eased to a stop, reached for the camera which almost always rests in the passenger’s seat, and felt nothing. The camera was back home, on the table by the door, where I always put it – so I won’t forget to take it when I leave the house.
    As I watched, the coyote rolled around on top of the hay, stood up and stretched, arched its back, then sat down to watch me watch it. I’m fairly certain it was laughing. Yeah, I will never forget that one, long as I live.

Last night was nearly as bad. My wife and I walked late, between thunder storms, so it was nearly dark when we left the house. No sense taking the camera, because there was little light and it might be ruined in the rain.
    A mile from the house we passed our favorite farm on our walking route. There we’ve seen Canada geese, countless deer, several species of hawks, more wild finches, warblers and flycatchers than we can recall, dozens of wild turkeys, and even the only kingfisher we have seen in this area, sitting on a power line eyeing fish in the farm pond.
    Last night, in the gathering dusk, we saw only one animal, Yes, a coyote.
    Did it run off in a blur? Of course not. It calmly walked away from us, strode up a small ridge, and set in the last ray of evening sun under a lone tree.
    It would have been the perfect photo. For the rest of my life, I will remember not taking it.

Copyright © 2013, 2018 by motomynd