From Northern California: Today I went out on the deck to eat lunch. A nice shady spot with a good view. I could see the mountains out toward Reno and closer, I could see down the hill, down along the fence that divides our property from our neighbors. And I saw some movement in the tall grass; just the slightest movement.
I held still and just kept watching...keeping my eyes on the tall grass. A large, well-fed coyote came sneaking out. He had a beautiful coat and kind of resembled a small wolf.
He moved out of the grass and walked slowly along the neighbor’s side of the fence and suddenly the llamas came running, gathered on our side of the fence, looking over it curiously, and I watched the llamas watch the coyote.
It moved back and forth without fear, almost daring the llamas to start something. The coyote finally moved slowly beyond the barn so I couldn’t see it anymore. I held still and waited a while, I knew he was just being cautious; he’d been here before and he knew I might take a shot at him.
I finally took a chance and slowly sneaked down to a wide tree, took a tiny peek around the side and when I was sure he had moved farther, I was able to get into the barn so I could watch from one of the windows.
It was hot in there; the big thermometer with the picture of the cow on it said it was close to a hundred in there and I could feel the sweat start rolling down my back. I tiptoed as carefully as I could; nobody sneaks up on a coyote.
We’d been losing chickens and ducks one at a time lately, and I wanted to see if this guy was the one doing it. But what if he was, what was I gonna do? In my haste I’d forgotten to bring a rifle and there was no way I’d be able to go back for one. How ‘bout a citizen’s arrest?
I just held still and kept sweating and watching at the corner of the window, and then, there he was again. He walked slowly along the fence line, very carefully, and then laid down in the grass. It just laid there and rested for about fifteen minutes, looking the situation over, almost like it was planning something. I stayed hidden.
The chickens were out in the tall grass on our side of the fence, and they were totally unaware of what was watching them, even though the llamas were pacing back and forth along the same fence.
After a good rest the coyote got up, stretched, and looked to be getting ready to go to work. He began by slowly trotting south along the fence, the neighbor’s side, at a slow enough speed so the llamas would follow. He took them maybe a couple hundred yards south, stopped, and led the llamas back to the north the same distance. He seemed to have a plan and I stayed hidden and quietly watched and sweated. About a minute later he turned south again and again the llamas, all bunched together, followed the coyote down the hill until they were just about to that same spot he’d taken them the first time.
He had them all, some leaning over the fence trying to get a better whiff of him. He just stared at them, almost grinning, as if he’d just sold them the Golden Gate Bridge.
That was when he spun around, and for the first time, he ran wide open, back up hill to the north as fast as he possible could and ran until he was completely out of sight.. The llamas were left in the dust and they just sort of milled around, not quite sure of where that coyote had gone.
Then it was all quiet...not a sound. Nothing moved. Just the chickens scratching for bugs out in the grass. And I stayed at the window sneaking quick little looks out of the corner, wondering why that coyote disappeared so suddenly when just a little earlier he seemed to have a plan.
I slowly and ever so slightly opened the barn door a little, just enough to still see the chickens. I couldn’t see the coyote anymore; he must have seen me and run away. And for the first time I could get a good look at the chickens and they were more like "sitting ducks". They were a good fifty yards away from me, too far away for protection.
And that’s when I saw the coyote. It burst out the trees up at the north, running down hill at top speed and was headed right for the chickens. I’d been had...I’d bought the bridge too. That magnificent creature had outsmarted all of us and was on his way to get one of my chickens.
I pulled hard on the sliding door and just started running as fast as I could.. He had a lot longer run but it was all downhill, just like I think he planned it.
I was furious with myself for leaving the chickens out there in harm’s way and all I could do was run. I was running north and he was running south and the chickens were still eating bugs as if they hadn’t a worry in the world. Big teeth were on the way.
I still had no weapon but I’d been outsmarted by a coyote and I was filled with rage. I was maybe halfway there when the coyote won the race. Still at top speed he lunged and grabbed a red chicken and kept on running toward me. There was a big explosion of red feathers and he had the chicken’s body in his mouth, it’s wings were out and covering his eyes.
I was so enraged I kept running right at him, arms in the air and screaming obscenities and feeling taken over by some kind of weird primal aggression. I wanted to kill that thing.
The red chicken was blocking the coyote’s vision, squawking and flapping, and feathers were flying everywhere. Red chicken had good reason to be afraid; she’d probably seen this same coyote before when it came to dine on her other chicken friends.
The coyote kept running on the collision course, the chicken’s wings over his eyes, and didn’t finally see me until we were maybe ten feet from running into each other. I was playing "Chicken" with a coyote with a chicken.
When he finally got the sight and sound of a crazy man he let go of the chicken, turned and ran for the fence.
The red chicken ran for the barn and is all right, other than missing a great deal of red feathers. For my part, I became very tired when it was over as all the adrenaline drained slowly back to where it belonged. I felt that I had experienced something left over in us from when we used to live in caves. Rage, without fear, is a scary thing.
All the chickens are locked in the barn tonight and the llamas have given their alarm call a few times already. I’m lying awake; there’s a hungry coyote out there tonight.
