Nature News

By: Carol Suits
Liberty Wildlife Volunteer

By: Gail Cochrane
Liberty Wildlife Volunteer

I was walking my dog Eli in a wash in the South Mountain preserve near our home recently, watchful for snakes.  What appeared instead was a half-grown coyote, on the shoulder of the wash above us, barking. Barking and yipping down at us.

For once Eli was speechless, as was I.  When I heard another, deeper bark, I started heading with purpose back toward the neighborhood, pulling Eli along through the wash.  The coyote pup tracked us. She was a beautiful tawny color, healthy, with a big brushy tail tipped with white. When I looked back and saw how she had closed the distance I stooped to pick up a rock.  I lobbed it at her and yelled, GAH!  The rock plonked on the ground not far from Eli, but the coyote disappeared.

There is a place where the wash narrows and a fallen saguaro blocks the way.  I can scramble around the end of the cactus, but it’s stickery in there, so our habit is that I drop Eli’s leash and edge around, then he leaps over to join me.  On this morning I proceeded to drop the leash and make my way through the stickers.  Eli was poised to jump to me when the coyote materialized, like a mirage against the desert browns.

My dog spotted her, and maybe she tossed her head.  In any case he was off like a shot and me standing dumbly on the wrong side of the saguaro.  Adrenaline surely helped me leap over that spiny carcass and I scrambled up out of the wash to see the desert all around, empty of canines.  I set off, skirting the teddy bear chollas, yelling for Eli.

When I heard the coyote bark again that urban myth crossed my mind – the story of how coyotes will send a youngster to coax a dog from its owner and to lead it to the famished pack. I have never given that story a shred of credit, until this moment.

Pretty soon I see a flash of white, a tail raised like a surrender flag, and Eli came trotting towards me, glancing repeatedly over his shoulder.  This was because a bulky coyote with bold markings trotted behind him.  When Eli reached me and I leaned down to pick up his leash, the adult veered off toward the mountain and was gone. There is no doubt in my mind that that coyote brought my dog back to me! The youngster continued to tail us until the tiled rooftops of the neighborhood loomed. Then she too disappeared.

A couple of weeks later…

I was in the backyard with Eli.  Our yard borders the preserve, and Eli spends a lot of time at the fenceline, peering into the desert. He has a special bark for coyotes, piercing and frantic.

This evening when he raised the coyote alarm, instead of hollering at him to knock it off, I climbed up through the shrubs to join him at the fence. In clear view was our young coyote friend, tawny and beautiful and completely ignoring Eli’s commotion.

She was intent on something on the ground a bit downhill from where she stood. Suddenly she raised up and pounced. There was some sort of struggle, while Eli and I watched astounded.  Then she lifted her head, triumphant. In her jaws was a large snake, still writhing. Late daylight glinted off its long white belly.  It took her a few tries to get a good grip and then that youngster trotted off into the rocks with her prize.