I was having a good day on Friday. Taking a break from my editing job, I happened to gaze out the window and saw...
A coyote. At first, I thought it was an unkept dog. Medium-sized, with dingy brown/tan fur. It was circling the field outside our back window. My first thought was something along the lines of "What the frick is that?!"
Our beagle, Molly, was outside at the time. I watched the dog glance at our property and then, put his nose to the ground. I assume he was looking for mole, or whatever something like that eats. Since I'm new to the area (a little over two months), I had no idea what to do next. It looked rather fierce, and I certainly wasn't going to mess with it. The dog turned and sauntered his way back to the creek.
I called my fiance at work and explained the situation. "Sounds like a coyote. Was it a wolf or a coyote?"
After googling the two, I realized that it was coyote. "Definitely coyote."
"Well, you probably should shoot and kill it."
Huh?! Kill a coyote? What the hell do I look like, Annie Oakley?
I have issues with killing things. Just a few days ago, I told my fiance how proud I was that he didn't kill the field mouse we caught hiding in the bureau. He let it go in the field. After that incident, I resolved that the giant spider spinning his web by the garage had a right to life as well.
My fiance suggested I bring our dog inside. Then, I should call the Humane Society to see if they would help with our coyote problem. The Humane Society told me to call someone in our area - someone at the town hall.
So I called the animal control, but the woman said that no officers there will deal with coyote. She told me to call the Game Department.
There is no Game Department in the phone book, so I decided that the Parks Department was close enough. The man on the phone had a genteel southern accent. I explained that I was new to the area, and had just seen a coyote out the back window. The field was mowed and he came somewhat close to the house.
"Did you have a gun handy?"
"Uh, no," I said. "You see, there's a spider out in the garage, and I have a real problem killing things."
"Well, I think that's going to have to be your solution. You see, they're pests in these parts. They aren't even supposed to be here."
"Do you think they'd attack our dog? She's a beagle."
"At night? Of course... Hold on. My friend just came into the room. He's a Marine. I'll ask him what you should do."
In a muffled voice, I hear the man explaining the situation. Young woman just moved here. She just saw a coyote out the back window. She doesn't want to kill things like spiders. But she's got a beagle and she's worried about it.
"M'am? The Marine says you need to get a bigger dog."
"Thanks."
"And you really need to get rid of those coyote. Where do you live again? That's getting close to town there."
I'm not afraid to kill things. I'm afraid of the karma of killing things. True, my Dad was a hunter. But that's when I was a kid and I didn't worry about such adult things as karmic retribution.
On Saturday, we heard coyote outside the back window. My fiance actually heard the pack over the Auburn football game he had cranked on the TV set.
Since I'm a nervous person anyway, loud noises don't work for me. Things like balloons popping freak me out. I told my fiance that I'd be more than happy to shoot the coyote with a bow and arrow, provided I could take classes and buy a bow and arrow.
He called me Napolean Dynamite.
Anyway, it's Monday morning, and I've lost a number of billable hours trying to find better ways to deal with coyote. Regardless of what happens, I still want to learn archery.
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