Now, how would I explain to Lord D that I had been eaten by a mountain lion for wont of following my own advice? To wit: “Do Not go walking in the neighborhood at the crepuscular hour without your pistol!” The nice lions will eat scrawny Englishman or geezer cowboy if they end up in the lion’s right space at their wrong time. Neighborhood rumor has it that we have but two lions this year; down one from last year. The mama and her two yearling babies have split up and somebody took a hike or got done in. ( Mountain lions are said to be fragile, and they have a dangerous and difficult occupation.)
Since the coyote and the nice doggies were still trading (?), taunts (?), threats (?), come-ons (?), canine lore (?) or what ever this was about; since I was still interested in trying to see this coyote and enjoying the discussion (?), concert (?), singing lesson/voice practice (?), bitch in heat (?) example of coyote humor (?); I went back down to The Tiger for provisions and arms.
Changed shoes, put on the pistol, (The little Browning .22 auto that I loan his Lordship when he’s here inspecting/enjoying his American Holdings.), got a drink of water, put new batteries in the night scope all with the amber light so as not to fry all my night vision and went back outside. I walked around the front of the Tiger and looked up just in time to see a very nice meteor fall with an in and out trail, south east to northwest through the little dipper; the trail being maybe twice the length of the dipper.
The coyote must have decided that he’d had a celestial signal to whoa and he did. End, finis, adios, goodnight! Not another peep. The doggies as doggies will do; did on and on and on… and on… for at least another hour or more. However, I’m pretty sure that I heard two or three quick single coyote howls amid the doggie barks during the writing of this. Nary, a group sing, all evening!
Now, (a quarter to one), it has been quiet out there for an hour, maybe..? I also figure that the H—–‘s were gone tonight or they probably would have shut the doggies down. Due to doggie noise on that end, it could have been hard to tell what the coyote was up to. Double T called just as I was getting started on this and let me tell him a lot of it; that helped order my thoughts towards getting this down. I have to say, though; I was already well motivated.
I have been around coyotes most of my life. A friend and I used to go out and lay in the yard, in the snow, with the dogs up at the house I owned above Rollinsville in the 60’s. Sometimes the coyotes would come in quite close and try to tempt the dogs to come out. Moose, the big red Leonberger Dog and Coon the Husky would listen but never answer. Sometimes, Moose would go up on the front porch so he could sleep. Duberry, the tri-colored collie (black, white and tan) who was quite dingy from having been hit by a car when he was a teenager, thought that he should defend the ranch and bark ‘em. Well, he did that for several years and then one night they ate him. I found his skull about three years later.
I guess the point of that digression was to say that I have more than a passing experience with listening to coyotes. That said, I have never heard one, much less two, play so long with the dogs. The second one went on almost an hour. Never drew so much as a peep from another coyote. The dogs down on Eagle Road didn’t last too long, but went off a number of times for a few minutes all evening. Dogs over East, off H—— L—, fired up on a few occasions.
Any way, it was a good little adventure and walk in the dark. What Fun! No lions though, there usually aren’t any. (It’s just that they are there, Jon!) But I have to say, at the risk of being nakedly anthropomorphic; it sure sounded like those coyotes were laughing!
rwb
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Here is a typical article from the Critters of the West – Mammals section of my Western History site: www.oldwestdailyreader.com. Just a bit more insight into this interesting animal.
Coyote FB (Canis latrans): [aka: prairie wolf, brush wolf or the American jackal] the voice of the Western prairie. This little wolf was everywhere and still is today. Bold, clever and adaptable; everything is on the menu. A chicken house, a rabbit pen or a newborn calf can be a treat. Often shot on sight. Nice pelt sometimes. Almost always appears in Indian lore, the Navaho see him as the Trickster. 
Photo: U.S. PD, Yathin S. Krisnappa, 01/2009 {001}
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end: Coyote Holds a Singing Lesson