At the beginning of the week, several of us were gathered around the kitchen table of a couple outdoor nut homeys who take their responsibilities to future generations very seriously. In this case, we were reviewing the State Environmental Policy Act (SEPA) document for the Naneum Ridge to Columbia River Recreation Plan, and preparing responses for the imminent deadline.
Frankly, we are of the opinion that a recent action of one of the “sister agencies” involved in the two years and thousands of hours of planning may have derailed the entire SEPA process. Be that as it may, we continue to take our public responsibility seriously and submit our concerns.
This whole business of looking after the future of public (our) lands access and use is not unlike a game of Whack a Mole – you get one issue put away and another one pops up. We were having a time finding the humor in the game, until it suddenly dawned on us that one of our favorite mammals was pretty much missing from mention in the SEPA document.
In the lists of species living on the ground covered by the recreation plan, the missing animal – certainly one of the most common and one of our favorites – was the coyote. While there may be reasons for its lack of acknowledgement in the Naneum Ridge to Columbia SEPA document, we at least had something worth a chuckle.
To honor this clever animal, which will likely still be here long after humans are gone from the planet, I offer a tribute.
I can still laugh at the young, awkward and confused pups trying to navigate our Colorado foothills driveway. And marvel at the milk-laden females on the hillside behind our house turning rocks for grubs and digging for rodents to feed their babies.
On a wintry afternoon a decade and a half ago, I was driving the old Roslyn Cemetery-Ronald Road, when I saw coyotes across a pasture. Through my old spotting scope, I watched three of them dancing for field mice or voles – oblivious to my presence. Each caught at least one small rodent with that amazing and funny stalk in the snow. First, the little wild dog would freeze, ears cocked toward the ground. It would tip-toe a few inches, leap stiff-legged into the air, pin its prey to the ground, snatch it, toss it overhead and catch it. Why not? Coyote has ears to match most any animal, a nose almost as good as a bloodhound and outstanding eyesight.
There seemed some rich satisfaction as it then crunched its fresh entree. At the time, they seemed somehow joyful, to me. I still picture it that way. After all, animal behaviorists use fondness for play as a measure of animal intelligence, and coyotes have been widely observed playing with each other as well as other birds and animals. Who can doubt their intelligence?
Then, too, it is no wonder we homeys around that table enjoy coyotes. Ancient stories and traditions weave coyote into the entire tapestry of human history. Coyote, once fully human and paving the way for the rest of us, figures in virtually all Native cultures. His name (the one we use anyhow) comes from the Aztec “coyotl,” or “barking dog.” To the Yakamas, he is “Spilyi.”
In most Native American traditions, coyote is the trickster; almost guaranteed to make us laugh, even as we are made the fool. In these traditions, he challenges us to learn, to grow, as he exemplifies our good and bad qualities – maybe even in our Euro-American way of seeing.
From 1915 to date, in the United States, bounties have been paid on estimates of well beyond 2,000,000 coyotes. A couple states still have coyote bounties on the books. We have shot, poisoned, buried, drowned, blown up and trapped coyotes. Yet their numbers and range have grown; find them in New York City’s Central Park, in the alleys of Los Angeles, and from North Dakota to south of the fence line between us and Mexico.
In keeping with the guidelines of the Reecer Creek Rod, Gun, Working Dog & Outdoor Think Tank Benevolent Association Science Education Committee, I am bound to tell you that coyote may reach 40 pounds and 26 inches at the shoulder, and live for 20 years in the wild. Mostly nocturnal, coyotes are still often seen in full daylight. Coyote’s scientific name is Canis latrans.
In wildlife communities, there are specialists and there are generalists. Coyote is the quintessential generalist: surviving (thriving?) virtually anywhere. Coyote makes his home in every habitat type in our state: living on mice and snowshoe hares in the mountains; rodents and birds in the marshes of the Columbia Basin; jackrabbits and voles in the sage and ag lands; and trash and small pets in downtown Seattle or Spokane. At various times and places, add fruit, berries, melons, tomatoes and carrots. An opportunist, coyote will eat almost anything.
I love watching coyotes. I am delighted when I see pups playing and learning to be coyotes. I=ve also seen what a couple can do to a flock of new lambs. And I always wanted a bedspread of full-winter coyote hides, with a pattern of red fox in the middle. I admit to mixed feelings.
