I was on a conference call 20 minutes ago and embarrassed myself by blurting out, “COYOTE!” as I grabbed my camera. This time the memory card was in it.*
Some nights, when it’s quiet and dark, the coyotes have Coyote Committee meetings in the back yard, right under my window. I had a friend visiting from the city, once, when the CC meeting started up, and they came crashing into my bedroom asking me to protect them.
The local hunters, of course, shoot them. Because they shoot anything beautiful that they see. “Look at that AWESOME BEAR!!! OMG! (blam)” What a bizzare reaction to beauty; they should avoid going to fashion shows. A few years ago I found a dead turkey that someone had boxed up as coyote bait, on my land. I set up game cameras to try to catch them and poured diesel fuel onto the corpse of the poor turkey; I wonder if they ever figured out why the coyote didn’t come for the trap.
Coyotes have wonderful natural camouflage. Until today, this was the best picture I had of coyote:
(*After the incident where Mr Robert Cat was sitting on the hood of my jeep for a photo-op and I shot portraits of him as he stalked off, my camera blinking “NO CARD” the whole time…)