Every time I see a coyote, I think of this song and of this particular version, even though it has nothing to do with coyotes.
I’ve still got that image of that animal standing in the sunlight etched somewhere in the back of my mind. That’s the way those animals are. The first one I ever saw came within ten feet of me. It had been following one of my dogs, who led the coyote to me. The coyote’s eyes locked in mine, and I’ve never felt as weird about a wild animal as I did at that moment. I had never seen eyes quite like that. You could read the terror the coyote felt when it realized that it had come upon one of those dangerous creatures– the ones who can kill you if they see you.
Let’s just say that the coyote took off, just as my other two dogs appeared to chase after it as it disappeared over the hill.
But I never will forget those seconds when a coyote’s eyes met mine. I’ve never experienced anything quite so primitive and so disconcerting at the same time.
I locked eyes with the Central Park coyote, maybe 15 feet away. It is, indeed, an amazing experience, even (especially?) in the middle of a huge, busy city. The coyote was just inside the park, and people were walking along the sidewalk with no idea that this wild animal stood just feet away. Strange.