He heard another elevated train coming and ducked his head, flattening his ears as it raced overhead. It was much louder from directly underneath. It passed and he waited a few more minutes, alert to any danger in the area. He got up and poked around the bushes, taking care to stay hidden from the street. He could still see the road if he peered through the fence, but now at least he had a six-foot buffer between him and it. He heard another train coming and this time it didn’t scare him quite as much. Sniffing around, he overwhelmingly smelled his own skunky odour, but didn’t detect any evidence of other animals. Sighing, he lay down in a small depression under a bush, hoping to be able to rest for a few moments.
Time passed and, for once, nothing made him leave his spot. He was woken every few minutes by a train going overhead, but the fence seemed to keep everything else out. With each hour that passed, he could feel his body relaxing, realizing that he finally had a place that was his. As the air cooled and the sky became dark, the roads quieted down. He stood and stretched, his stomach twisted with hunger. Now that he had a home base, he had to solve the problem of how to feed himself better.
FIFTEEN
HUMAN
Alyssa
Alyssa got the call on Monday morning at 8:15 a.m. The school principal left a panicked message on the coyote reporting line, saying that there was a “herd” of coyotes stalking the children, and although most of the animals had run off, there was still one lying there. She smiled as she listened to the message. She doubted that the coyotes had actually been stalking the kids. They had the potential to be dangerous if they were injured and cornered, but they typically didn’t go out of their way to have contact with people. She frowned as she wondered about the coyote that was still there. It must be very injured or dead.
She called the school back, but the secretary couldn’t get the principal on the line; she was still outside “dealing with the situation.” Alyssa hung up and began to dial the number for the officers from the Ministry of the Environment, who would take away a dead or immobilized coyote. Suddenly, she paused. She hadn’t been able to get an eyewitness account yet. She should probably go and check it out before assuming that the message was accurate. Who knows — maybe the coyote wasn’t that injured and had figured out a way to get away. The school wasn’t far from her house, anyway.
Pouring her coffee into a battered travel mug, she grabbed a coat and headed to her truck. Driving along in the dim morning light, she kept her eyes peeled for animal movement. After being a wildlife biologist in the national parks for almost a decade, she had thought that a move back to the big city would be the end of the interesting part of her career. She had been surprised to find out just how much was going on right under the noses of the millions of people who lived here. Thousands of coyotes, tens of thousands of raccoons and skunks, and all kinds of smaller mammals thrived in between the concrete towers, finding small spaces that were not covered in pavement to call their home. Right from the moment she moved here, she had been especially fascinated by the adaptability and the resourcefulness of the coyotes. It was amazing that such a large predator had learned how to live beside humans without anyone ever really becoming aware of their existence.
Pulling into the school parking lot, she saw a crowd of teachers and parents huddled in the middle of the field. The students must have been told to go inside. Well, that settled it. There must still be a coyote out there.
She walked over to the crowd, scanning the faces for someone who might be in charge. After asking a few people, she found the principal.
She stretched out her hand. “Hi, I’m Alyssa Lee. I work for the city, with Urban Wildlife Monitoring and Rescue.”
“Oh, hello — thank you so much for coming out quickly. I’m Cathy Thompson, the principal here. I have to say, we just don’t know what to do!” Cathy’s voice was high, and she sounded on the edge of panic.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Well, I was inside, but Doug — he’s the school custodian — ran in and told me that there were five or six coyotes on the field this morning. A whole herd of them! A parent reported it, and when he went out he saw them growling at the kids. He got a broom and went a little closer, swinging it and yelling, and they all ran away. We haven’t seen them since. But there’s still one there — can you see it? It’s under that bush there. It hasn’t moved at all.” She pointed her finger at the edge of the field, where in the dark patch under a bush Alyssa could just make out the small, grey form.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll check it out. Stay here and I’ll let you know what I can find out.” Alyssa set off toward the coyote.
“Wait — are you just going to walk up to it?” Cathy’s voice was incredulous.
“I won’t get too close. I’m just going to try to find out if it’s alive or not.” Alyssa smiled. She encountered this kind of concern every time. It must be all the big bad wolves in fairy tales that had people believing that the coyotes would surge from the ground and lock on to their throats. In fact, coyotes typically only weighed twenty to forty pounds, and human attacks were extremely rare. There had never been one in this city, and although she had heard of a few attacks in other parts of the country, she knew that they generally involved coyotes who had been fed by humans and had become habituated to the easy food source and lost their ability or drive to hunt for themselves.
When she was about five feet away, she got a better look at the coyote. It was young, only about six months or so, she figured. It looked well-fed and had soft, tawny fur covering its small body. She looked more closely, noting some open sores and scratches along its side. It must have gotten into a fight with another coyote. She wondered if the pack that had been spotted near the school had been attacking it.
“Hey, coyote!” she yelled, watching for movement. The coyote didn’t stir. “You alive?” she clapped her hands a few times. Still no movement. She bent down and picked up a small stone. She threw it at the coyote, and struck it right on the cheek. Her eyes widened as the coyote let out a small yip, closer to a squeak. Its whole body shuddered, and it began to get up, a high yelp of pain escaping as it struggled onto three legs. It was hard to watch. Its eyes blinked, and it shook its head. It held its front right paw up off the ground — it must be seriously injured. Then, after only a few seconds of standing, it fell back into the dirt. It mewed softly a few times, almost like a cat, and then was still again.
Alyssa nodded and turned to walk quickly back to the principal. “It’s still alive, but it isn’t mobile. I think it’s a leg issue, and maybe some infection, too. It’s so young that it actually might have a chance — I’ll get a volunteer from our organization and we’ll take it back to our rehabilitation centre. It’s a long shot, but we’ll see what we can do.”
A man, probably a parent, was standing nearby and overheard them. He stepped in with a frown. “You are going to try to heal it? Why don’t you just … take care of it?”
“Well, we do put down animals, yes. But we try to heal them if it’s an injury that we think we can help with. Sometimes it works.”
“I don’t know. I think you should just kill it. It’s obviously a danger.” The man shook his head. Alyssa sighed, not wanting to get into a long and drawn-out conversation, and turned her body slightly so she was facing Cathy more directly. “Cathy, I need you to keep everyone away from the coyote. And someone needs to keep an eye on it, in case it tries to go somewhere. It won’t get far, in any case. I should be back in less than an hour.”
Cathy nodded. “Okay. I’ll get the custodian to stay out here until you get back.” She beckoned a tall, older man over and began to explain the situation to him. Alyssa nodded and headed back to her car, and began calling volunteers.
In just over an hour, Alyssa had rounded up a long-time volunteer, James, and collected her supplies from the office. She had with her a metal rod with a Y-prong at the end, two nets that looked a bit like oversized butterfly nets, and a large kennel. James met her at the parking lot
with an excited smile. Their volunteers spent most of the time in the office talking to people on the phone about coyote sightings and questions. Getting an opportunity to rescue a coyote was a fairly rare occurrence. In the last year, they had captured only four coyotes. Two of them had been too sick and had died, but two of them had been rehabilitated and released.
“Can you help me carry this stuff over?” she asked. Together, they carried the kennel to within seven feet of the coyote. It didn’t stir. Then, working carefully, she positioned the Y-prong onto the pup’s neck. It woke up and began to struggle, panic giving it a rush of energy. However, with its neck pinned to the ground, it couldn’t get up at all. James put the net over it, and then brought the kennel closer. Carefully steering its direction with the rod, Alyssa guided the panicked coyote into the crate. James pushed the door shut and latched it. There were a few weak howls, and then silence. They both took a big breath, and smiled at one another.
“Nice work,” she said.
“That was great!” he exclaimed as he gave her a high-five. She grinned at his enthusiasm.
“Well, we’ll have to bring it in and take a closer look. It’s in pretty rough shape right now.”
James nodded, and together they carried the crate to the back of her car. The coyote made a sad crying sound from inside, and she could smell that it had defecated into the crate. This was typical; the animal was terrified. Once it was in the back of her truck, she told James to pop by later that day to find out how it was doing, and she headed for the rehabilitation centre.
SIXTEEN
INSIDE
Pica
Terror gripped her. Pica was trapped in a small box and there was a loud rumbling and shaking from all around her. The ground moved underneath her unexpectedly, causing her body to roll from one side of the box to the other. A few times she tried to stand and look outside, but she was so unsteady that whenever the ground shifted she fell back down again.
After what seemed like a long period of time, the noise and the shaking stopped. She heard rocks crunching and a loud screech, and then light filtered into the box, blinding her after the darkness. She saw the shadow of a human and heard talking. Yelping weakly, she shoved herself to the far end of the box, trying to get away. It was impossible. She could smell humans surrounding the box, their odd chemical smells filling her nostrils and blocking out everything else. Her box was carried inside a building and then everything was quiet.
Pica opened her eyes cautiously and peeked out of the bars of the box. She saw a pair of dark human eyes staring back at her. Pica inhaled with fear — direct eye contact at such close range set off all of her alarm bells. She braced herself for an attack. The minutes passed, and the woman did not move. Pica’s breathing slowed. Then her breathing quickened again as the woman stretched her hand out. Pica let out a weak, low growl as the woman touched the box. Pica heard a squeaking sound, and the front of the box popped open. The woman moved away then, taking a few steps backwards.
Pica slowly pulled herself out from the box, standing shakily in the new space. Tall concrete walls stretched up on all sides and overhead. There were a few objects in the room, and some small windows through which she could see trees. The ground under her feet was hard and her nails felt funny pressed against it. There was the smell of many other animals in the room, and also the smell of fear.
She looked around weakly, and saw a bowl of water beside her. She was suddenly aware of a massive thirst. Keeping one eye on the woman, she sniffed the water. It smelled good, but the container that it was in smelled like other animals. She didn’t quite trust it. Eventually, though, her thirst overcame her, and she dropped her head to drink. Immediately, something dark passed over her eyes and she felt the woman’s hands on her head. Thick straps surrounded her jaws, pressing them together, and she couldn’t drink anymore. She turned her head and tried to bite the woman, but her mouth wouldn’t open. She yelped in fear, but even her yelp sounded funny. She felt something burn into her back hip, and continued to struggle for a few more seconds. Slowly, then, she felt her desire to resist melt away, and began to feel very calm.
She ceased to care as the woman picked her up off the ground, carrying her to a basin on the other side of the room. When her whole body was dipped into a wet, stinging liquid, she did gasp and jerk her head, but even then, the fear and resistance slipped away. She could feel the liquid burning into her cuts, but her eyelids dipped closed and the experiences melted around her, slipping away whenever she tried to grasp them.
Over the next hour, she was vaguely aware of being carried to some other places, picked up and put down, poked and prodded, but finally she was returned to the box and she fell into a deep sleep. When she woke, she was groggy. She was still in the box, but smelled grass and plants around her, and knew she wasn’t in the concrete room anymore. All around her was light and fresh air. She raised her head, shaking her ears to clear them. The straps were no longer on her jaw, but something was stuck around her neck, making it so that she couldn’t see or scratch her body. Also, there was something very firm wrapped around her bad leg. She struggled to get the objects off, but it was impossible.
Peering out of the box, Pica saw she was in the corner of a very small grassy area surrounded by a high chain-link fence. Through the fence she could see trees, and she could also smell water and hear a busy road nearby. She couldn’t see or smell any humans. She put her leg down on the ground and was surprised that the pain seemed less sharp than it had before. Suddenly, she was distracted by the smell of something delicious. She saw a bowl with food in it at the other end of her box. It was fresh meat. Dipping her head down, the object around her neck banging against the ground, she managed to get her head low enough to get some food. It was delicious.
Suddenly, she tensed. Something didn’t seem right. This was too easy. She swallowed the bite and then, with a regretful look, backed away, curling up in the far end of the box. She spent a few more minutes trying to get the thing off her neck, and when she couldn’t budge it, lay down with a sigh. She was stuck for now, and still so sleepy. She curled up and fell asleep again.
When she woke up again, it was dark. Nothing had changed. She didn’t smell humans anymore, but the smell of the meat was now overpowering, and she realized how hungry she was. She hobbled over and finished it, no longer caring if it was a trap. She drank deeply from the water beside her food. Her belly full, she now became more aware of her leg throbbing. She whined for a few minutes, wondering where she was and what was going to happen to her. She gradually began to feel sleepy again, and curling up in the corner seemed like a relief.
Alyssa
Driving home that night, Alyssa couldn’t stop thinking about the little female coyote. Callie — she knew she wasn’t supposed to give it a name, but it had just popped into her head and now she couldn’t help it — was a tough little fighter. After giving her a full checkup today, she had found evidence of a severe eye infection that had probably made her mostly blind in one eye, some infected wounds, and an injured leg. Given the amount of time that had passed since the injuries were inflicted, it was a wonder the little thing was alive at all.
Luckily, they had a vet who worked regularly with their organization, and he had dropped by to help as much as he could. Alyssa had given Callie a disinfecting bath for her wounds, and the vet had splinted and bandaged the leg. There was nothing she could do about the eye, but she had seen other coyotes with eye issues, and they were sometimes able to survive. She felt pretty confident that they would be able to heal the infection on the coyote’s body, but given the extent of her leg injury, Alyssa figured that Callie had about a 50 percent chance of healing well enough to be released. The next few days would be crucial — if Callie would eat and rest, it would give her body the chance to begin repairing itself.
The next day, Alyssa drove into work early and walked softly over to the enclosure, unsure of what she would find. As she approached, she saw Callie’s head pop up and glare at h
er through the bars of the crate. She gave a low growl. Alyssa sighed with relief. She had made it through the night and was on her feet — that was a good sign. A few hours later, she put some more food out for her. This was the only time when Callie would see food coming from a human, because there was really no other way as long as she was still in the crate. Soon, though, they would let her out into the enclosure, and try to deliver the food when she was asleep. This would prevent her from becoming too habituated to the idea of food coming directly from people.
Habituation to humans, especially seeing them as the best food source, was the most dangerous part of rehabilitation. If a coyote lost its fear of humans, they would inevitably get another call a week after release to tell them that it was following people around, waiting for some more food. Then the coyote would have to be put down. Distrust of humans was what kept coyotes alive in the city.
Despite the fact that coyote attacks were exceedingly rare, people were still very nervous about seeing them out in the open during the daytime. If only they knew how many coyotes were under their noses at all times, carefully concealed in the shadows of the bushes, they would be shocked. In their city alone, estimates of the number of coyotes ranged from four hundred to six hundred, and a few thousand more in the suburbs surrounding the city. It was amazing that the coyotes, given their numbers, managed to stay so out of sight.
Street Shadows Page 9