Coyote

In the few years I've lived in Monrovia, I've been lucky not to have had any run-ins with coyotes. I've seen them, yes, on more than one occasion, but it hasn't been a problem. I go my way and they go theirs. Usually by the time I take a second look, they have vanished.

I have seen them late at night, brazenly wandering down the middle of the road, and up people's driveways, driven by hunger. As a pet owner, I always get a little stab of fear in my gut when thinking that my own animal family could be in danger. My rule was to keep them locked in the house at dusk, through the night, and not let them out until the sun was high in the sky.

Last week I had to re-evaluate all this. I was talking with a friend in my driveway and we both spotted a large scruffy coyote trotting up the driveway across the street. He saw us but didn't seem bothered. I made a mental note and kept on talking. I said I was glad I had put up fencing in my front yard to make it less desirable for coyotes to just wander in.

My friend was getting ready to leave. Then we heard an awful sound—that of a badly injuired small dog. The yelps were blood curdling, and we both cringed in silence as the sounds of terror and pain kept coming. I felt frozen in my spot. It must have been the coyote we had seen not ten minutes before, and he had attacked a dog on the next street over. I ran in and called animal control. Now it seems that they are hunting in broad daylight, in 90-degree weather. It was a weekday, so perhaps on the weekends they would stay away and I could let my pets outdoors then. Not so.

Sunday rolled around and I heard my housemate yelling as she was unloading some groceries from her car. "Amanda!" she shouted. "Get the pets inside." I ran out to where she was and she was pointing to our gate. "Right over there, he was standing, looking in, very interested." I rounded up the pets and locked them in the house, pondering ways to keep the beast away.

I feel sorry for them and their diminishing habitat, their hunger, their desperation and constant need to hunt. I felt frustration at our own freedom being curtailed. Such is life, I suppose. For now, I may have find a way to mark the permiter of my territory, in a way that this coyote can understand.

Photo by Chris Chapman