Incognito, by Charles Wood
19 May 2012 2 Comments
in coyote behavior, reactions to a human
Dad
My latest attempt to avoid my coyotes’ attentiveness failed. I didn’t bring my dogs and I arrived earlier than usual. The unhappy result is pictured. After the last bicyclists and joggers were gone, Dad delivered his unwelcoming message to me alone. He doesn’t want me around. Other humans are a blur to Dad, but I stand out from that crowd. Regardless the time of day and with or without my dogs, I am unable to pass by them incognito or to be wilier than a coyote. To see puppies this year, I need my coyotes to make a mistake.
Posting written by Charles Wood. Visit Charles Wood’s website for more coyote photos: Charles Wood. His work is copyrighted and may only be used with his explicit permission.
Dad Gets Close, by Charles Wood
13 May 2012 1 Comment
in communication, coyote behavior, coyote reactions to dogs, coyotes and dogs, dog reactions to coyotes, following, reactions to a human, territoriality
Dad
Saturday in LA County I took one dog, Holtz, out with my camera to look for my coyotes. Dad came close to us and then left. I photographed him leaving, after sunset and several hundred feet away. Despite the distance, Dad’s ears were pointed back in my direction. He disappeared after re-entering his field through a break in the fence.
In 2005 I let Holtz use the same break in the fence. Holtz wanted to cavort in the field and I let him. As he played in the field I noticed a coyote approaching him from behind. I yelled at the coyote, made Holtz come, leashed him, and left. I didn’t return to the field until 2009 when I took up bird photography.
Dad and Holtz have a history since 2009, and perhaps as far back as 2005. I have no way of knowing if it was or wasn’t Dad who had approached Holtz in 2005. I do know it was Dad who approached us Saturday at dusk.
I waited about half an hour and watched. Then Holtz stood, stared past the fence into the field, and began crying. Holtz cries when he sees rabbits or coyotes close by. He cries because he wants off leash to chase. I hushed Holtz, but didn’t see anything. He still stood on alert staring out into the field. I packed up slowly, hoping to see something. I even lobbed a couple golf balls. If a coyote was close, I wanted it to back off. Nothing stirred. Then we headed north to my coyotes’ rendezvous area.
Leashed and energetic, I let Holtz run wide half circles near me and down along the fence. With my back to him, I felt him return to my side and hold still. It dawned on me that although Holtz wasn’t running, the sound of running hadn’t stopped. I turned to see Dad running the fence on the other side. He wasn’t happy. When I looked at Dad, he moved away into brush. From Dad’s point of view I am a feared incompetent, slow to catch on, slow to see him, a sometime thrower of golf balls with bad aim, yet a sturdy barrier between Holtz and him.
For a month or so Dad has been satisfied to just show himself at a distance and stare to make us leave. Saturday, he spoke louder by getting close. One of Dad’s messaging techniques is to hide himself in brush about fifty or so feet away. He watches and waits. While I’m not looking, Dad shows himself to Holtz and gives him an evil eye. Holtz cries and I look to see at what. Once in a while I catch Dad sidestepping back into cover. Saturday Dad was quicker than I. After unnerving Holtz, Dad must have followed us to the rendezvous area. Holtz’s running around further raised Dad’s ire and so Dad came closer to run the fence. It was a strong message.
After Dad ran the fence he disappeared into the brush. I took a few steps in that direction. Holtz let the leash tighten up and planted his feet, looking at me like I was crazy. Holtz knew that Dad seriously wanted distance. Holtz wanted serious distance between Dad and us too. As we left I kept an eye on our heels for Dad. Far away, in dim light with the naked eye, a distant plant on the river bank looked possibly like a coyote. I put the camera on it and saw that it was just a plant. Only through the lens did I notice some motion down there and photographed Dad.
Dad is troublesome to Holtz and me because we are troublesome to Dad. Over the years I’ve seen and talked to several people who use my coyotes’ field. Some haven’t seen the coyotes at all, some see them play and hunt, and none have told me of being messaged in the way Holtz and I are. My coyotes watch people pass by on the river bank walking, jogging, or bicycling. Few stop to ask what I’m watching for. Those who do are surprised to hear coyotes live in the field. As far as I know, my coyotes are only troublesome to me. Going on four years, Mom and Dad have known me for about half of their lives. Other people to my coyotes are mostly background noise. One man spends the night in their field and the coyotes just avoid him. To have a chance of seeing puppies this year I will have to back off now and try and return later incognito.
Posting written by Charles Wood. Visit Charles Wood’s website for more coyote photos: Charles Wood. His work is copyrighted and may only be used with his explicit permission.
Coyotes on the Cliff in Daly City, by Mark Citret
27 Apr 2012 2 Comments
in coyote behavior, hunting, reactions to a human
-
- Coyote Stalking Gopher
-
- Coyote Going For Gopher
-
- Coyote Checking Me Out
Reading a Scent
21 Apr 2012 2 Comments
in coyote behavior, following, reactions to a human, smell
-
- first coyote turns into the brush
-
- first coyote follows dogs and walkers to park exit
-
- first coyote sees walkers leave park
After hunting for a while this coyote finally disappeared into the brush. I thought that was the end of my observations for the day, but not so. Soon thereafter, two large men and their two large pit bulls appeared from a path close to where the coyote had disappeared. They proceeded down a trail which would lead them out of the park. The coyote then reappeared from the brush, sniffed where this walking group had lingered for a moment, caught sight of them, and then follow them, not too closely, but within eyesight, until they left the park. The dogs and walkers never turned around, so they never saw the coyote, and when they exited the park, the coyote disappeared again into the bushes close to the park’s exit. No one was any the wiser because of this. And that was the end of my observations of that coyote.
Within 10 minutes, there appeared another coyote sniffing around where the first one had first caught whiff of the dogs. This coyote sniffed intently and looked all around, stretching his neck high, but no one was in sight, and maybe the scent of the dogs and the other coyote had begun to dissipate a little because he didn’t seem sure of which direction to follow. He finally made his choice. Instead of following the scent on the trail that led out of the park — the direction the others had gone in — he turned around and retraced the path the dogs had originally come from.
I’m wondering: Did he lose the scent which led out of the park? Or did he mean to retrace the direction from which dogs and coyote had come? Was his interest a curiosity in the dogs or in meeting up with the first coyote? Or, might he have been attempting to assess if the dogs and coyote had had an encounter? We don’t actually know what pheromones and other clues were there for the second coyote to tap into. It’s always fun to try and figure out what these animals are up to!
-
- second coyote picks up the scent
-
- second coyote is figuring out the scent
-
- second coyote backtracks
A Magical Moment
07 Nov 2011 1 Comment
in coyote behavior, human behavior, reactions to a human
I was observing a coyote in the distance when a fellow suddenly appeared where there had been no fellow before. I wondered how he got there since I had not seen him approach and there was no path where he stood. He was leaning over, packing his backpack. Ahhh, I now remembered the brightly colored object I had seen earlier hidden in the grasses. That must have been a sleeping bag which he was tucked into. He finished packing and began to walk off, when he caught sight of the coyote right there only a short distance away, just sitting in the grass and watching him. The fellow seemed overtaken with amazement. Everything became still. The coyote looked at him and then look away, so as not to threaten. The young man did the same. There seemed to be a mutual appreciation and respect — two different species crossing paths in the early morning. This little encounter lasted two full minutes. Then the fellow decided to move on very slowly, without any sudden movements.
When the fellow got to where I was, I said “that must have been a pretty fantastic moment for you.” He agreed that he would never forget the amazement and wonder he felt as he stood there: it was a magical moment with a glimmer of something that most of us have lost touch with because of our highly-civilized world — a stirring of something which was new and exciting — a connection and mutual understanding, if only brief, to something wild and untamed, yet gentle and accommodating. I have had various people tell me about their special coyote encounters, their touch with the wild. This one was particularly nice. I’m sure the coyote had been very aware of the presence of this fellow all night in its habitat, and might have been curious to watch the fellow get up and take off.
Rendezvous, Almost – by Charles Wood
02 Jul 2011 Leave a Comment
in coyote barking, coyote behavior, coyote reactions to dogs, family interactions, reactions to a human, video
Friday I saw four of my Los Angeles area coyotes, all more or less together. Before twilight, Mom and Bold headed north from the nesting grounds to the rendezvous area. Then Mister showed up to bark as I followed them. I hadn’t seen Mom since June 13 and at that time she appeared to be traveling alone, as did Bold on June 30. I often see my coyotes either singly or paired.
Although two coyotes together aren’t unusual, three suggests my pack may be gathering for a rendezvous. At dusk a fourth coyote showed up, Shy. Eventually the three yearlings moved out of sight, like Mom who hadn’t showed herself since before twilight. The only adult I didn’t see was Dad. I reasoned he must have been with the new puppies and hoped they would head towards us. They didn’t. Perhaps Mom went to join Dad and the rendezvous was rescheduled. Or perhaps there is another rendezvous area and I delayed them moving there to join Dad and the puppies. In any case, I didn’t see Dad and the puppies.
My presence is definitely seen by my coyotes as involved and the behaviors I see are mostly of their interactions with an involved human who brings his dog. It was my dog who introduced us, and my interest in coyotes sprang from my interest in their field as a playground for my dog: not a good start, a start that won’t be overcome.
Once I attempted to break Dad’s misimpression by playing tag with my dog while Dad watched. I was thinking he would possibly be persuaded that we were cool. There was no sign of reappraisal, his unamused glare embarrassed me. Mom expresses Dad’s view, as do Mister, Shy and Bold. If they have a theory of my mind, it wrongly informs them that I share my dog’s desire for their food. Yet admittedly, given certain hypotheticals, I would eat their food though they could hardly know I wouldn’t relish it. Then again, with a flame, ketchup, mustard, vinegar and a dill pickle I can conceive of their food as enjoyable. I concede they know me in my essentials as well as they need to.
Mister
From time to time I’ve seen coyote life seemly unaffected by my presence. For example, some crows once buzzed Mom. She moved her gaze off me and onto the crows, sauntered from the road into wild mustard and returned to gazing at me as the crows moved on. I had expected a more energetic defense by Mom. Later I realized that crows can’t fly through wild mustard and that her defense was elegantly parsimonious. My imaginary defense against buzzing crows, flailing wildly as I thought she should have done, would have been untutored. It didn’t occur to me that Mom knows crows better than I do.
Posting written by Charles Wood. Visit Charles Wood’s website for these and more coyote photos: Charles Wood. His work is copyrighted and may only be used with his explicit permission.
“In Shifts”, by Charlotte Hildebrand
29 Jun 2011 Leave a Comment
in coyote behavior, human behavior, reactions to a human
I don’t know why I’m afraid to talk to my neighbor Thea about the commotion next door; perhaps because I talked to her last year about feeding the feral cats and skunks and raccoons and nothing came of it. My fear comes, too, from the fact that an old woman can be sharp edged as a knife, dangerous as a steel trap and unyielding to the point of chicanery.
Don’t get me wrong; my neighbor is a wonderful woman, but the busy schedule of the comings and goings of various animals has gotten out of hand. Something has to be done:
7 a.m.: Breakfast, Coyote, table set for one
7:30-8 a.m.: breakfast, seven skunks
noon-3: brunch, six rowdy crows
5 p.m.: supper again for the coyote, although in this part of the country I think you call it dinner.
5:30 p.m.-until dark: skunks in shifts, the occasional possum and raccoon
Note to self: The point of my argument (to make her stop setting out food) must be in the interest of the wildlife she’s feeding.
Who will get to the bowl first?
I’ll start out by saying, “Thea, you’re not helping the animals; you’re making them dependent on the food you give them. What will happen when you’re not here?”
Why would I not be here? she’ll ask.
Pause. Am I to say, at your age you’re headed for the big ballpark in the sky; anything could happen? But I can’t say that; it would be too cruel.
Well, what if you get sick, I’ll say. What will the animals do? The coyote might become aggressive and attack some unsuspecting child or small pet; maybe jump over the fence and bite me for interfering with its supper.
She’ll shake her head like last time and say she doesn’t agree with my assessment.
I’ll say, Okay, you win; let the skunks fill up the afternoon air with stink, let the coyote become a stalker, let the crows caw to their hearts content. I give up, I give up.
But it didn’t go like that. When I called her at noon to talk about the problem, she was all good graces; she said she had wondered herself if she was doing the right thing. As a child during the war, she lived on the edge of a forest, and it was only natural to feed the animals during winter. I gently reminded her, that here in sunny CA, an abundant harvest is always available; there’s enough little voles and moles to fill up Dodger Stadium. So, she agreed to stop. If she couldn’t feed one, she wouldn’t feed any. She promised, no more food.
But I feel a little guilty that she won’t have the animals to feed. She’s lonely up here on this hill since her husband died five years ago; her daughter lives in Pennsylvania and comes out only a few times a year. It must give her pleasure to take care of so many small creatures. I wonder if I’ve done more harm than good.
P.S. Woke up this morning and noticed three bowls in her yard, and a possum lurking about. What the…??
This posting follows from Charlotte’s posting on June 8: HOWL. For more of her writing, please visit her website: http://charlottehildebrand.blogspot.com/
“I’m Outa Here, but ever so slowly. . .”
14 Jun 2011 Leave a Comment
in communication, coyote behavior, coyote reactions to dogs, reactions to a human, video
When to move if dogs are coming down the path? Well, it is important that they see you. After all, this is your territory and they need to know that. So you lay there watching them and they don’t see you, so you stand up. You continue to watch them, twitching your ears — they are coming slowly, so you have time for this.
Someone tries to scare you off, still at a substantial a distance, with a yell — heard on the video at about 20 seconds. This might be a good time to think about going, but not lickity-split. The time finally comes to leave as the dogs move in closer. But, first, it’s important to have a very visible stretch, and a yawn, so that all those who might be watching will know that you are not afraid and have not been pushed into leaving. You take one more back-glance, and then you trot off at a good clip, but definitely not at a run.
HOWL by Charlotte Hildebrand
08 Jun 2011 9 Comments
in coyote behavior, reactions to a human, video
-
- Crows overhead
-
- Then a swish and movement in Thea’s backyard:
-
- . . .and a second later, a coyote cautiously approaching. . .
-
- Freaked out!
My own HOWL woke me up yesterday, early morning. First the crows making a racket on our railing, then caw caw cawing overhead.
Then a swish and movement in Thea’s backyard.
I snuck outside along the walkway between our houses, and saw my old neighbor Thea putting two plates of food down on the ground next to the canyon, and a second later, a coyote cautiously approaching. . .
I would say with almost certainty this is the same coyote I saw in the canyon at this time last year, when it was only a toddler. I worrid then that Thea might be feeding it, but never imagined she’d be so blatant, deliberately putting out food for it to guzzle down. And guzzle down it did, indicating it’s probably dependent on my neighbor — in her delusions of goodwill and ignorance — for the food it eats.
. . . but I freaked it out!
It caught me peeking around the corner to take its picture. For the next hour, it filled the canyon with its growls and barks, howls and HOWLS, pursuing me, through the canyon, to the back of my house (how did it know where I lived?) and approaching in its awkward, frightened, vulnerable, sad way.
Do I call animal control? Do I let Thea continue feeding it? What is the right thing to do?
You can hear it’s yips and yaps, along with the crows, in the video below:
[Reprinted with permission by Charlotte Hildebrand from her blog "The Rat's Nest": http://charlottehildebrand.blogspot.com/2011/06/howl.html]
