We have a coyote problem here in my quiet suburban neighbourhood. Urban sprawl has forced them out of their natural habitat and into mine. The city has posted signs in parks and papers instructing us on how to live peaceably with these animals and for the most part I’d say the coyotes are doing their best to fit into our society. The two times I have spotted a coyote it was walking along the sidewalk careful not to run out into traffic or cut across anyone’s grass as if it had watched our strange methods and was doing its best to follow suburban protocol.
Pelee Island has its share of coyotes. We don’t often see them but we do often hear them. Two years ago while sitting around the campfire with our good friends, the Marangonis, we could hear their howling and yapping in the distance. Unperturbed by the noisy canines at first, it wasn’t long before we felt their presence just beyond the tree line. We fell silent as their yapping came to a fever pitch before what sounded presumably like the killing of captured prey.
Abruptly abandoning our guests, I was the first to run back into the house. Our friend Mark was a close second. And our combined children of five? Left behind sitting around the campfire listening to the sound of retreating coyotes… and parents.