This morning i put on the headlamp and went outside to liberate the chickens from the coop and fill their water dispenser and get the dog pen all situated before Sili and Cashew came out. I left them inside eating their breakfast. When i stepped outside i did the usual headlamp sweep of the darkness to see who was out there with me before stepping off the porch. A set of reflective eyes watched me from the end of the driveway about where i figured the gate would be. It was trash day and i was trying to remember if i had closed the gate or left it open.
My immediate thought was that i was staring at Sula and i called out, “hi Sula. Good morning.” Sula happened to be the name i had given to a white tailed doe that often sleeps on my property. Sometimes she comes alone and sometimes she brings her 2 adult daughters with her. I called out her name but as i said it the response of the eyes confirmed something that was already making the hairs on my arms stand on end, though my brain hadnt figured it out yet. Who i was talking to was not Sula. The eyes were a little too small to be Sula’s, even at that distance. They were also too low to the ground, but they were sitting too high to be a raccoon, a possum, or a fox.
In the past, when i spoke Sula’s name the eyes would always move suddenly as her head darted in the direction of my noise and then she would move her head a couple more times, twitching her ears to get a good listen, before bracing and then darting away. Sometimes she went a couple feet and then bedded down. Sometimes she left the property, but she usually bolted to some distance at the sound of my voice. These eyes did not move. They stayed fixed on me, unwavering. About the time i realized they were not deer eyes the head lowered, turned, and trotted swiftly and noiselessly to the right up the paved road. This was not a gallop. This animal did not have hooves. The swift and noiseless departure on the asphalt belonged to an animal with paws. The head lower and consistent height of the eyes as it ran…it was much more likely that i was looking at a coyote. Sula’s eyes would have bounced as her hooves carried her away. You better believe i did frequent scans of the darkness while readying both pens for the morning, unconvinced the sucker wasnt still hanging around somewhere, but i had to continue with the chores. All would be well once cashew was out. She would do her perimeter walk, pee on everything, and bark at any coyote that dared to show itself.
The chickens refused to come out of the coop. They seemed to sense the presence of a nearby predator. It made morning chores easier because i wasnt constantly having a chicken or pullet underfoot as i worked in the small pen. I got everything ready and then short leashed the dogs and walked them to their pen. The coyote did not return.