Coyote Yipps

I’ve been following a number of coyotes here in San Francisco for their entire lives, many since their births. These have been territorial coyotes which makes following their stories possible. Of these, some I follow more intensely than others. I always identify the coyotes as individuals and within their families and territories, but beyond that, I don’t look for specifics as I observe, rather, I document what they themselves reveal to me, and it’s always something different with each family and each individual. It seems that each has something different to offer up — a different aspect or focus of themselves, all of which contribute to my overall understanding of not only the entire species, but to the very individuals and differences that make up that species.

Ash, the old fella depicted in the above video, is one I came upon and then followed over a number of years as year after year he and his mates — he went through several of them — produced litters, kept them hidden, raised them together, hunted for them, played with them and guarded their territory. I considered him and his family one of my “peripheral” families — not one of the coyote families I’ve been following as closely as some of the others. But I had been able to identify the family members and some of their behaviors on their territory in the little time I watched them.

This pupping season, I was surprised that the new alpha male at Ash’s old homestead is his son, Red. Ash was getting old, and I figured that maybe his time had come. Years ago I noticed an alpha pair abandon their long-term territory, and I wondered if they did so because they knew they could no longer defend it, AND, I’ve speculated that they might have been ceding the territory to an offspring — one remained there for a year after her parents left, and then she herself disappeared. I’ve also seen younger or stronger coyotes fight and win territories from weaker or aging coyotes. And now I wondered if Ash had become too old to hold on to his territory.

Shortly after documenting this “changing of the guard”, I was sent a distant photo of a lame — injured — coyote in the area who held his right back leg up high and tightly. Without having a good image of the coyote’s face, I couldn’t tell WHO it was. Some people thought the leg had been cut off due to the way he carried it, and it certainly looked that way from particular angles, but it was not cut off at all, it was just being held that way. Multiple times I was sent reports of this fella from all corners of the city: he obviously had become territory-less n– an interloper — sneaking between the interstices of other coyotes’ territories. Who was this? A year later I captured this video which clearly shows this injured coyote’s face: it is our aging Ash.

Between when I first saw the photos of him with his held-up-leg and more recently, all the muscles on that injured leg had atrophied. I wondered WHAT could have happened — had he been hit by a car? Unfortunately, as with humans, when one system goes, it puts a huge burden on all other systems which in turn makes them susceptible to further injury and eventual failure. This phenomenon is compounded with age.

Might he not have been able to defend his turf, or hunt very well for prey to feed a potential new litter? Might he not have been able to mate? Was he rejected by his much younger last mate who was driven by her hormones and nature to find a more functional mate? I’m speculating here: I don’t know if it was his will or her doing that drove him away. I have known of a coyote “divorce” where the mostly absent alpha male was forced out by his mate who had found a more attentive male.

It’s been about a year since I became aware of the lame coyote — but only recently did I see who it was. Come to think of it, a year ago is when I last saw Ash. He has lasted a long time on three legs and without a territory. What popped out at me in the video was his stressed look in addition to holding up that leg and his difficulty in moving around. It’s obviously been hard for him: hunting must be difficult. He’s likely been hiding and most likely in pain. You’ll see in the video he’s constantly shaking himself: he’s unable to scratch and the parasite building up on him must feel excruciatingly uncomfortable. My heart cried for him when I saw him this way: I could tell his end was near, and for all I know, that time might have already passed. I have not seen him again. They say that cowboys never die, they just fade away — the same holds true for coyotes.The only natural death that I’ve seen documented is the one described by Walkaboutlou: that oldster appears to have headed for a pile of reeds where he lay down and never got up again. Most oldsters I see less and less of as they get older, and then one day I become aware that they are never around anymore. In this case with Ash, there was a severe injury from which Ash was unable to recover. If you happen to see him — he’s so distinctive with his ragged fur and holding up that leg, I would really appreciate your letting me know.

Below is a photo of Ash’s family before he left. This year there is a new male with new pups at his old densite. Life is short and hard for coyotes, and life for survivors always moves on. But the stories of individuals that make up the species are the warp and weft that make them who they are.

UPDATE: Ash was spotted in a Kirkham Heights backyard this morning, September 4th, so he’s still slithering around! Before that, he was seen sporadically in the Stern Grove area and even in the Buena Vista neighborhood.