The
clipping barks began sometime after midnight, from the direction of the lower
woods. Having been awakened abruptly by the noise, I decided to go out to the
back porch to simply listen.
The
nearly full moon was still high so that the back yard and border trees were
cast in a silver light, and despite the cold temperature, the lack of wind made
it comfortable enough to stand outside.
Another
bark-like call, cropped and staccato, followed by several yips, all seemingly
just beyond the edge of the treeline at the base of the yard where it abuts the
woods. Then I heard a movement – a rustling of leaves down below as if several
of the coyotes were gathering.
We go
for months without hearing their cries, particularly in the rearing months of
summer, when I imagine that any new pups are holed away in forest dens. Come
autumn and winter we are reminded of their presence here, like this night, when
the eerie bark and longing cries travel clearly in the cold silent forest.
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