Wednesday, July 7, 2021

Coyote Tales and red moon omen

 

COYOTE PUPS

 Copyright 2021 Don Ray.  Feel free to print and share.

Downy woodpeckers fledged, so back to seeing the coyotes in the morning.

This morning for the coyote pups it is wrestling, biting day.  Occasional yips of protest.  

Some have treasures!

Of course the other pup’s treasure is always the best.

Tug-toy!  Exactly as I played with my Brutus dog!  Rapid head shakes.  Slower, longer head yanks.  The pups are even colored like Brutus.  

Wrestling and flopping and twisting on and in yuccas.

So glad they are still here.  Thank You.  Thank You.  Thank You.

08:15

All out of sight.  Where do they go?  None lying out in the clear spots as a few days ago.  How unproductively I thrill to the viewing of new life this spring, downies, coyotes, and geese.

The moon was a sickly red last night high in the sky, an ominous portent from many fires.

The world’s reset button is being hit.

The younger goose family has its white markings, though still fuzzy.  The babies still plonk down like babies and lie close to one another.

The pond’s southwest spring has quit running.  Homestead spring is dry downstream of my tree.  It still trickles under the bridge.  People passing through recognize none of this.  

Next day

Coyote point.  06:20

Brief glimpse of a pup running from the den up across the dam trail, then disappearing into the woods.  I hope s/he stays out of trouble.  There's a whining-yipping coming from over the rise.  I hope one of the little coyote family is not in trouble. 

Yesterday briefly saw two coyote pups, one lying at ninety degrees across the other on top of the den.  Then they disappeared into brush.

Of  course I will miss the little guys after their inevitable and necessary departure.  I will miss the time they have given me, the excuse and opportunity to indulge in this sunrise time on the ridge.  I will miss the play and rough-housing and tug-toy games. 

How effectively Nature hides from us, out of necessity of course.  Millenia of our killing it have taught it well.  Millenia of it trying to kill us taught us well.  Yet for all that mutual killing we survive(ed) only at the behest of Nature.  Its predilection for hiding from us is not a good sign, for that portends Nature turning its face entirely from us, finally drawing a line at the assault of dams and poisons, bullets and heat.  

Look to Nature, if you can still find it.  Pray for its forgiveness.  Pray we're not too late. 

 Copyright 2021 Don Ray.  Feel free to print and share.

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