“Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me – I am happy.” –Hamlin Garland
I myself have sought relief from life’s stresses on many a trail, so I can relate to Mr. Garland in that respect. But if this gentleman had decided to permanently escape the dog-eat-dog city life and move to the country, he likely would have changed his mind about the coyote wails.
To country folk, the howls of a coyote family bring about as much pleasure as the wailing of ambulance or police sirens do to city dwellers. We country-ites who have (or live next to) small dogs, cats, chickens, goats, and lambs have little affection for our neighborhood Wile E. Coyote because the latter savors the taste of the former. (For the literary purposes of this post, younger readers who grew up deprived of Looney Tunes may need to Google Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner.)
My neighbor, Susie, just lost a passel of her beautiful chickens to an unknown predator--it could have been Wile E. or a fox, coon, or free-roaming dog. Chickens can also be haute cuisine for our hawks, eagles, and mink, but the evidence suggested otherwise.
I was the first to come upon the carnage. I’ll spare you the gory details, but believe me, it was a sad and ugly sight that made me forget my New Year’s resolution to eliminate cuss words from my vocabulary. Perhaps I’ll suggest to Susie that she raise roadrunners instead of chickens.
“The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance….” JOHN 10:10 (AMP)