The Coyote and the Fawn

by George Zidbeck

One morning I spotted a fawn darting along the southeast slope of our three acre rectangular parcel. Still displaying some spots along the flanks and not accompanied by its mother, I knew the animal had taken serious flight from danger. About sixty feet behind, a coyote streaked to close the gap.

Photo by Greg Smith: Coyote and Old Kill

Over seventy oak trees canopy the land around our simple, wooden-skinned home. A few toyon bushes plus a few non-native plants my wife and I sank in the sod here and there supplement los robles. Consequently, the underbrush lies mostly cleared. Our rear deck thus permits a full overlook of the swale dissecting our property northeast to southwest. While on that rampart, I never know when some dramatic wildlife scene might erupt.

Allow me to divert your attention from the choreography above. Many years ago, I watched a television program wherein a biologist presented sonographs of animal territorial sounds, particularly bird callings. He discovered that the stylus marked sound tracks of different avian species remarkably overlapped. The researcher followed his study of birdcalls by recording canine growls. Not only were the graphs of varied wolves similar, their sound wave recordings matched those from his bird studies. A growl is a growl is a growl—in any language.

Thus, while I had but a few seconds before the predatory hunting scene left my sighting, I shouted in my most threatening tone, "Get out!" Whaddayouknow? It worked. The coyote stopped his pursuit to check out the source of my growl. When I had his attention, I repeated my command. The phrase resulted in his reversing his direction.

Huzzah, my intervention extended the fawn's lifespan.

Nevertheless, I shortly questioned my act. I had violated the Star Trek mandate by interfering with a natural process. Who am I to stop a feral coyote from fulfilling his genetic predispositions? I certainly took an objective, standoffish stance when witnessing a hawk's attempt to snare a squirrel. Mayhap I took a proprietary stance over the fawn because deer are regular residents and I anointed myself their warden. The interloping coyote tagged as a foreign invader, I therefore felt it appropriate to nullify his intention. A few months earlier, however, a solo coyote trespassed through the squiredom without any bellicosity on my part.

And yet . . . Today, I sometimes wonder what I'd do if once more a predator pursues his destiny within my purview.