Coyotes
~ by Mark Blackwell
There are folks living in the city that dream about moving out to the country for some peace and quiet. I won’ t argue with somebody wanting to move out of town for some fresh air— we’ ve got fresh air as long as the trees that produce it don’ t all get logged out. And I can see folks coming to the country for the beautiful scenery— we’ ve got plenty of scenery. But if you’ re coming out for some peace and quiet then, like Humphrey Bogart in the movie Casablanca, you were misinformed.
Living in the woods is a continual round of operatic choruses and arias. In the spring the peepers sing high, lusty choruses of welcome to the warm, moist breezes. As summer begins, the frog opera comes on like something from Wagner. As summer ripens crickets, katydids, cicadas, and other insects take their turn. At night the whippoorwills share the stage with a variety of owls. But the real star of the show is Canis Latrans— or better known as coyote.
While I can pretty much count on the
It was just about half-past summer and my wife and I had owls and the bugs and the toads and the settled in for a lovely night’ s rest and recuperation. The windows frogs to come out singing every night, were open and the dulcet sounds of the surrounding forest Senor Coyote and his pals only show up creatures had lulled us into a deep and satisfying slumber. The when they feel like it— about every week, first shriek had me standing at attention in the middle of the bed. sometimes twice a week. While I wouldn’ t I did not even get a chance to ascertain that the noise was natural mind them joining in with the other happy and not the trumpet that sounds the end of the world. Perhaps I woodland creatures, they prefer to up-stage had built my cabin atop an ancient and accursed burial ground or everybody else with soul withering screams maybe a gaping portal to Hades had opened up in the back yard and howls and high notes that any Diva and disgorged it’ s horde of demons and banshees. I abandoned all would envy. caution and decided to investigate. I crept to the window, raised
I first encountered God’ s dog in the myself from my Delta Force tactical crawl and peered over the latter part of the last century, after moving window sill. to the beautiful hills o’ Brown. It was not a To my astonishment, instead of the demon horde that I warm and friendly introduction, but rather expected, there were about a half dozen mangy looking thirty calculated midnight blitz through my pound dog-like critters capering around screaming and shrieking backyard.
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46 Our Brown County • July / August 2015