Coyotes, etc.

Okay. So I'm tired of the Facebook debate my comments about going on a coyote killing spree sparked, not because I'm tired of the debate itself, just the forum. Besides, I've been having blog-envy for some time now, but just haven't really felt moved to write anything here. That has changed.

Last Thursday, 13 August, my cat Gris went missing. I've been scouring the ranch, fearing the obvious and hoping for the improbable. Specifically, I suspected all along that a coyote had killed him, but as I hadn't heard any howling for some months and as none of my chickens had been killed for the same amount of time, I hoped that Gris was off being a cat and having a nice time. Around 10 this morning while I was out looking for Gris, I came across where a coyote had killed and eaten of of my hens.

Now, for those of you who don't know me, I live on a large ranch that is situated between Round Rock and Austin, Texas. Both cities have grown up around the ranch and I can see the top of an apartment complex from my back door. The apartment swimming pool is just across the fence from the ranch and in the summer I can walk a quarter mile in that direction and hear children playing in the water. At night it's loud music and beer bottles thrown over the fence. One or more of the apartment dwellers think it's great fun to drive golf balls onto the ranch. There are literally scores of them littering the southwest corner of the ranch and I see them every time I ride a horse or go for a walk. The point of course is that as their habitat has evaporated, the coyotes have been forced into narrower and narrower confines.

I'm an educated man and I understand that--as the poet said--"Nature is red in tooth and claw." I have also known and accepted that by letting Gris be an outdoor cat, his chances of being injured or killed by a wild animal or even a domestic dog were good, perhaps even better than average. And so, it seems that that has now happened.

So yes, I intend to kill coyotes
 and no, it's not motivated by blood lust, nor even revenge, as if that were even possible.   I'm not going to use poison and I'm not going to use spring traps either. I intend to kill them, not torture them.

As for motivation here it is. The coyote who killed my hen probably killed my cat too and that makes me sad for more than one reason. Gris was a great cat and I loved him; now I miss him. It also reminds me of when I was 12 or 13 and found my bird dog who'd been killed by a pack of coyotes. And I'm sad that I have to tell Logan, my 10 year old son, what happened because he loved curling up on his bed with Gris and our dog and watching movies. But revenge killing wild animals is not only pointless and senseless, it's impossible. Revenge requires narrow parameters to even exist. What's been taken is gone. The main, overarching reason I intend to kill every coyote I find within 2 miles of the house is because if the usual pattern emerges--and it will--the coyote(s) will set up as close to the house as possible and kill chickens until there are none left. Given the chance and if there are enough of them, they'll kill my dog too. Coyotes kill and eat domestic animals because they make easy prey and I understand that; we do the same thing.

The whole mess is complicated by the fact that I like coyotes and am glad that we have them. One of my favorite memories is from a winternight when I was camping outside. At that time I was running my horses on some land ten miles outside of Denton and when I went out there to feed, I would frequently just stay the night. After I cooked supper and bedded down a norther blew in and the temperature dropped into the low 20's which is cold in any case, but when you're sleeping on the ground more so.

Some hours later Tejas, my dog,  growled low and deep against my chest waking me to see just beyond the circle of firelight where 3 coyotes sat on their haunches watching us. Their eyes glowed red orange with refracted light and their breath smoked on the cold night air. They were beautiful and mysterious and altogether wild, like visitors from some other world, which of course they were. When they sensed I was awake they turned and were swallowed into the deeper darkness.

I watched after them until the cold became too much, then settled deeper into my bedroll; the wind eddied and tumbled sparks from the fire low along the ground. Tejas arced his back against me and I pulled the canvas flap over both of us, protecting the heat of our bodies from the outer dark and drifted back, down into sleep.