The Curious Coyote

Meeting Charlie

We've just returned from our last walk of the night. It's a rather tame affair that seals each day with gentleness. Since we are renting in the historic Jefferson Park neighborhood abutting the University of Arizona, we stroll through the sleeping campus. It's so different from our walk that begins each day. Much more civilized. But that's okay, for I've grown fond of how peaceful and predictable it is.

In contrast, we start each morning before sunrise with a twenty-minute drive, and Clarence is the first car at a busy trailhead. The sky is light enough, so I don't need a headlamp, even if the sun has not climbed out of bed. The desert is equally drowsy. We hear the haunting chorus of coyotes marking their boundaries as we pass. It astounds me how only two or three can make their yips and cries and howls sound as if there are a dozen. The only other noise stirring the air at that hour is the woo-ing of the doves, which can easily be confused with the who-ing of the owls.

This is how w…