Maisie and Toby vs the Coyotes

Maisie, the Chihuahua mix and Toby, the Great Pyrenees after the Great Coyote Incident. All’s well that ends well!

I thought that since this is coyote breeding time, I’d drop a chapter from Dog Lessons on our encounter with a couple of wily ones a few springs ago.

“Hey,” I yelled, with both my arms up. “Get outta here!”

I was shouting at two coyotes who were trailing us on

our morning walk. They were about fifty feet behind us.

Toby and Maisie were straining at their leashes and barking

like mad. Toby wanted to be let loose. Coyotes are his natural

enemy. Ten thousand years of evolution protecting sheep

has hardwired that instinct.

Maisie, on the other hand, while brave, is not the smartest

when it comes to coyote encounters. She was the reason

they were following us. Small dogs often fall prey to coyotes.

She put up a good show. I did get the feeling that while

Toby wanted to go for them, Maisie, while growling and

barking up a storm, was sending me the psychic message:

Hold me back!

It was September, when coyotes are active, and it was

early in the morning, when the wild world is up and about.

New Mexico has a split personality when it comes to

coyotes. On the one hand, there are the ranchers and hunters

who think of them as pests and predators. There used to

be coyote killing contests every year until the voice of the

urban and suburban populations weighed in and the contests

were made illegal on state-owned lands.

In the community we live in, coyotes are tolerated, even

celebrated. There are road signs with the message: “Thank

you for watching out for our coyotes.” There are community

presentations on not using poison for mice because coyotes

eat mice, and the poison goes up the food chain, sometimes

killing the coyotes.

I’m with the tolerating crowd. One of my favorite times

as a firefighter was when, at night, we turned on

our sirens to go to a call and were answered by the howls of

coyotes all around us.

Yet on that morning, as those two coyotes tracked us, I

felt a bit nervous.

The thing about coyotes is that they seem so relaxed.

Their gait is easy, their demeanor calm. In the act of pursuing,

it is as if they’re saying, we do this every day. Mice,

rabbits, pack rats, cats, little dogs. It’s all the same to us. In

Northern California a while ago, an individual was attacked

by a mountain lion. Although he ultimately fought it off,

he couldn’t help but notice how calm the lion was — I’m

the predator, you’re the prey. This is something I do daily. It’s the

circle of life, buddy.

As they got closer, I picked up a few rocks. I have lousy

aim, exacerbated by the fact that I was trying to hold back

two deranged dogs. I did finally throw one rock and missed,

but I spooked the coyotes, and they headed up an arroyo.

As you can imagine, the dogs, the leashes, and I were all

tangled up. In trying to spin around and untangle us, I let go

of Maisie’s leash.

Whoops.

Sensing freedom, in not her brightest move, she sprinted

away, trailing her leash, barking madly, up the arroyo in pursuit

of the two coyotes.

“Shit!” I yelled.

I had only one recourse: Release the kraken! Imagining

myself as Liam Neeson (as Zeus) in Clash of the Titans, I let

Toby go.

He galloped up the arroyo with me stumbling and running

after him.

I could hear Maisie’s bark, but Toby was silent. I imagined

him determinedly focused on catching a coyote. I cut

around a cactus and scrambled up the slope. After a minute

or so, I couldn’t hear Maisie. I called her name: nothing.

I worried that her leash would get caught on a tree or

rocks and she’d be a sitting duck for the coyotes.

Finally, out of breath, hands on my knees, I tried to figure

out what to do next. My only option was to continue up

the arroyo and hope that Maisie had stayed in the drainage.

I headed up. I yelled her name.

A moment later she came bursting around a tree and

came right to me, jumping up. If she could’ve talked, I’m

sure she would’ve told me how brave she was to chase the

coyotes away from her human.

What about Toby? I was confident that one or two coyotes

would run from him, but if he encountered a pack, it

could be trouble. I yelled his name, but he had taken off into

miles of piñon and juniper forest. He could be anywhere and

not hear me.

When Toby didn’t show up, I decided to go back to the

road, take Maisie home, and then go on the hunt for him.

As we made our way down the arroyo, my phone rang.

It was our neighbor, who lived about a half mile from us.

She said Toby had just trotted through their yard and was

headed back toward the road. I thanked her profusely and

headed toward their house.

Within a few minutes, Toby popped out of the brush

and trotted over to Maisie and me on the road. He was out

of breath, but his demeanor said, Mischief sorted!

We walked back to our house, both dogs acting triumphant.

At home, Maisie jumped up on Laurie and wagged

her tail. I’m sure she was trying to convey the whole story of

the hundred coyotes she had single-handedly defeated that

day. The stuff of legends. (Like me, an exaggerator.) Toby,

more blasé, just jumped up on the couch. It was a normal

day for his kin.

Afterward, my views on coyotes didn’t change much,

despite encountering a pair who stalked us. How would I

feel if a coyote had grabbed Maisie? I’d like to believe I’d

be shocked, terrified, and sad, but I wouldn’t buy a gun. The

truth is I want to see coyotes on our walks. I was awestruck

when once a mountain lion banged into our kitchen door. I didn’t love it, but I was awestruck, even as she stared into my soul. I want to witness the flyover of sandhill cranes heading north from the Bosque del Apache wildlife refuge.

I want to live in a world where we accommodate and

celebrate the wild, even when it’s inconvenient. In my view,

a few national parks doesn’t cut it. Even if I never visit certain

places, I want to know that wilderness is there.

I fear mine is a minority opinion. I know many ranchers

and farmers want to reduce predation from predators, which

impacts their livelihood. And I know pets and humans need

to be protected, as much as possible, from the extremely

rare attacks by predators, be they grizzlies, mountain lions,

wolves, or coyotes.

I don’t agree with the vociferous group that wishes we

could rid our continent of predators entirely, or of any animals

they deem as “pests,” using traps, poison, shooting

contests. As a teenager, I was driving to visit a friend in February

on a rural road, and from my car I witnessed five or so

individuals, adults and teenagers, on snowmobiles chasing a

terrorized fox through deep snow. Some people see animals

as “things” that are worth nothing except to be hunted and

killed.

All that said, our coyote encounter reinforced my commitment

to take simple precautions on our walks. We don’t

walk in the evening or early morning, when coyotes are most

active. Most importantly, I am “situationally aware,” focused

on the walk, not on my phone or listening to podcasts or

other distractions. This is how we need to be in areas where

humans and dogs live close to wilderness (or I suppose on

busy streets). I look around and pay attention to the dogs.

When they stop and their ears perk up, I look and listen.

Toby, because he was bred to protect sheep from coyotes and

wolves, is our bellwether. He is constantly on the lookout for

coyotes. He howls when he hears them, lunges when he sees

them. He is the perfect dog to walk with on our wild road.

Hersch’s latest book, “Dog Lessons: Learning the Important stuff from our Best Friends” is available at bookstores everywhere (support your local bookstore!) and online.