Magical Moment with a Coyote
About a week ago I experienced a rare magical moment in my own neighborhood. I had taken my dog out for a pee about a quarter hour after sunset, as the last light of the day was fading. Away to the south I heard a Great Horned Owl hooting. From the sound of it, I thought I might be able to see it, so I walked with the dog on the leash down out of the cul du sac where we live. I could not see the owl, but as we were standing on the road a coyote came trotting across the lawns parallel to the road. It seemed to be gliding through the dark, like a grey ghost of the great natural beauty that once was here. It made a wide arc to avoid us, but then headed directly on its way, toward a small wooded area.
The dog saw it and wanted to play! She wagged her tail and pulled on the leash, as hard as I had ever felt her pull. I suppose it would be reading too much into the situation to suppose she heard the call of the wild when she saw that coyote. Rather, it would be projecting my feelings onto my dog.
The village officials in this accursed, beauty-blind suburb have coyotes shot whenever they become a "nuisance" (meaning, whenever they become too careless about being seen), and lament in the village newsletter that "unfortunately" it is not practical to shoot them all. I can't imagine how these animals could be less of a nuisance.
The traditional Native American were so right to venerate this awesome animal, and we are so very, very wrong to treat them as vermin.