Close encounter of the coyote kind
As I walk out of my driveway at dawn on an overcast morning, I turn to my right and see, about 10 yards away, six brown-yellow eyes staring at me and my Australian shepherd, Shea.
While we live in an area called Midtown smack in the middle of the large city of Tucson, we have plenty of wildlife in our neighborhood because the Arroyo Chico runs through it. The Arroyo Chico is a large wash where wildlife (and homeless humans) nest. Javelinas, which look like wild boars, nest in the arroyo. So do coyotes.
If you’re up early enough, or late enough, you may see javelinas and coyotes, both of which are mostly nocturnal, roaming the neighborhood.
Instead of the scraggly, often ill-looking solo coyotes I’m used to seeing, though, these are three large, healthy-looking coyotes. They’re so healthy-looking they look like they might have just come from the grooming salon at CoyoteSmart or NotExactlyPetCo.
I’ve had close coyote encounters before, including one where my previous Australian shepherd, Flynn, came snout to snout with a coyote in a field on the edge of Imperial. That coyote looked at me, gave another look at my 70-pound Aussie, then apparently decided the odds of one 40-pound coyote taking on a 70-pound dog and full-grown human weren’t good. The coyote trotted away.
These three coyotes are not retreating a step. They’re mad-dogging us, in fact. Shea is afraid of nothing, so he glares back and screeches out his Aussie war cry.
Trying to get back to the house would mean walking right at the coyotes, and I know enough about coyotes to know confrontation is a bad idea. I know running away is an even worse idea, so Shea, who is on a leash, and I walk in the opposite direction.
After about 10 yards of walking, I glance back and see the coyotes are following us … and closing ground. I pick up some rocks from my neighbors’ lawn and fire one at the coyotes. (Thank God for Arizona xeriscaping.) I’ve read that rock-throwing can scare off coyotes. The rock lands near the coyotes and they retreat a few yards.
Confident I’ve scared off the coyotes, we walk another 15 yards. I take another quick look back and see the coyotes are pursuing us with more zeal. I have another rock in hand, and I throw this one even harder, barely missing two of the coyotes. The coyotes take a few steps back, then start moving toward us again.
By this time we’ve reached Broadway, a major crossroad in Tucson. The coyotes have caught us and are about 20 yards to our right.
I know coyotes are smart and choose their battles wisely. The generally wouldn’t want to scrap with a 68-pound dog and his 175-pound human sidekick. This, then, is weird, I think.
I’m not afraid, though. More than anything, I’m exhilarated.
Broadway is always busy, even at this hour, and we must wait for the signal to change to cross. Coyotes don’t believe in traffic signals, and the three expertly dodge traffic and make it across Broadway. Now the coyotes are in front of us, but they seem to be heading in a different direction.
Whew!
We walk about 100 more yards. The coyotes are back, staring us down again, this time from across the street. Now, though, they are down to two in their pack. Shea again screeches out his war cry and looks at me as if to say, “It looks like a fairer fight now, amigo. Whaddya say we engage?”
Maybe thinking the burly dog is bonkers, the coyotes finally decide that discretion is the better part of valor and trot in the opposite direction. We continue our daily morning walk but I warn other walkers, particularly those with smaller dogs, that there are hungry carnivores in the vicinity who indubitably would enjoy a Pomeranian breakfast burrito.
All the dogwalkers immediately turn in the opposite direction, clearly wanting to avoid a Coyote Encounter of the Three Kind that we’d just experienced.