Last night, on my way home, I saw a coyote*. It was about knee-mid-thigh high, light brown. Its tail was down and so was its head. It was sauntering across the street, taking its time. It didn’t run when I came up in my car or when I slowed down.

I went down to Old Hill to walk The Pooch. It was bitter cold this morning, although the sun was shining bright and warm. In the frozen mud I saw all kinds of deer and turkey tracks. I also some decided canine-esque tracks. At first I thought they were from mushing dogs, but then I realized there were in places mushers don’t take their dogs so I assume they were coyote also (too big to be fox).

Ah, life!

*Coyote is pronounced “ki-ote” here, not “ki-o-tee”