I turned 50 in mid-July and just received an invitation to join the AARP, a testament to the data gathering skills of list management firms I'd be proud to have supporting and timing our direct mail offerings here.  The annual check up regimen at 50 is, for the as yet uninitiated, a true delight and worthy of a blog all to itself (which I will NOT write-- some memories, I contend, should simply be repressed as deeply as possible).  Somewhere between the stress test echocardiogram and the colonoscopy there was time for the prostate, the FOBT, the lipids, sugars, and cholesterols and the annual lecture about better diet and more exercise followed by the subtle threat of pills, pills, and more pills if I didn't manage things effectively enough myself 'the natural way'....

Which brings me to the coyotes....  I live in the Lakewood area of Walnut Creek, a neighborhood that is two minutes from downtown but feels twenty miles out of town once the sun goes down.  There are no curbs and gutters here.  There are no streetlights.  There are plenty of wild things that howl in the night-- among them the coyotes that live in the magnificent open space hills just up the road from my house.  And there are good hiking trails at sunrise.  My doctor, a charmingly round little woman who never makes me feel bad for drinking wine with dinner, eating red meat, or for cooking with real cream and butter, insists I walk more to keep the numbers right.  And the two Aussies that make most of the important decisions in my household support my doctor's insistence-- so much so that they bring the proper shoes each morning about 5:30am and wiggle and snort until I awaken, arise, and accede to their demands for an off-leash romp in the hills followed by [for them] a day of lounging around the yard waiting for the next walking homage to Dr. E's numbers and charts.  Which, as I said, brings me to the coyotes....

After a solid hour of hiking last Friday the dogs and I were headed out of the hills when the solo yipping started.  I'd seen the old coyote many times before and he never approached when I had both dogs loose.  He retreated again this time as well but for the first time mine decided he might need attention and they bolted up the ridge in chase.  I know coyote didn't appreciate the morning workout and the run up to the top of the ridge from the valley floor was strenuous for all (reference the echocardiogram above).  Howling and yipping after every plateau, coyote finally convinced my crew they'd never catch him and eventually we all gave up, hiked down, and left for our respective day's activities.

This morning's hike took us down the Indian Creek trail and there the coyotes had laid their trap.  Far enough onto the trail to not turn back we encountered them.  Five that I counted.  My younger dog, Chip, started the race but stouter Guy followed without asking a lot of [seemingly useful] questions.  They're dogs-- they don't rationalize behaviors first-- they just run.  After the first hill I lost sight of them but they heard my call about the time the first yelp let out.  The pack made it clear whatever meal they had taken down up the hill, likely a fawn, wasn't on the 'share with Aussies' list.  Two of the five coyotes raced mine back off the hill to the creek and made it patently clear the dinner invitation had been selective.  I sent them away to devour their kill and turned mine back up the trail for a cup of coffee and an avoided trip to the vet and the emergency room.  As I passed the area where the old coyote had run his heart out up the ridge a couple of days earlier I began to wonder... would coyotes turn on their own if they sensed weakness?

My sentiments are with the old coyote today and I wish him well.  He was smart enough to turn and run and I hope he sees the sun rise over the hills for a long time to come!  I hope he never catches grief from anyone about which foods he selects for dinner, either!

Chris Hendricks