I love these haunting calls. How primal and mysterious their communication is with each other and the rest of the world. We heard them in full throat yesterday at dawn, but this morning, they could only be heard at a distance. This is our Sonoran chorus, and we’re all for it.
The coyotes don’t bother or concern us. I suppose that is because we respect their boundaries and set our own. There are three in our pack, and even our smallest, Emily, is twenty pounds heavier than most western coyotes.
We had the pleasure of meeting Steve on the trails, and Layla, his late dog, was attacked by a coyote in their yard once. From that point on, Layla never trusted other dogs.
“She couldn’t do what Sam and Emily are doing. She couldn’t be off-leash very often. She was sweet, but she had the attention span of a flea.”
My rule of thumb is always to stop and talk to those with interesting walking sticks. And I’m glad we did.
There was nothing earth-shattering about our conversation. Steve was pleasant and…
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