A trickster tale

Coyote, always the jokester, the court jester, teaching us from the backdoor rather than through direct input. . . .

About a month ago, I walked off my porch and looked down at the concrete sidewalk leading to the driveway. There, in diagonal pairs, were muddy star-shaped tracks, side by side. There was about 1.5 feet of space between each pair, telling me that the animal making these tracks was large. But what could make starshaped tracks this large?

I ran through all of the possibilities in my mind: opossum, raccoon, jack rabbit, large bird, large nonnative reptile. . . . I was getting desperate. Nothing in my catalogue of tracking search images fit what I was seeing. No round padded toes were visible, just three long fingerlike protrusions in the front, two pointing backwards. I couldn't even tell which way this animal was moving.

As with so many other tracking enigmas, I filed the image in my brain knowing that the mystery would be solved in time. Two weeks later the same pattern showed up again on the sidewalk. I was still no closer to an answer. I had scoured my tracking books, and there was no illustration that matched what I was seeing. Again I let the mystery ferment in my subconscious.

URBAN SURVIVOR— The coyote uses its wits to thrive in a changing environment. One week later, after the last rain, the starlike pattern appeared on the sidewalk again. As before, I got down on my hands and knees and looked at these tracks closely. This time on only one of the dozens of tracks were the faintest outlines of coyote toes.

The stars I had been seeing were the spaces in between the toes, the negative space of the track. The mud had been wiped off of the coyote's toes before it had reached the sidewalk. When it hit the concrete, only the wet mud on the fur between the toes had registered as a track.

When I understood what I was seeing I was stunned that I had missed it. Had I been in deep sand and seen the diagonal pattern and huge spacing with no detail I would have thought "coyote" immediately. But because I was so used to seeing clear tracks on concrete, I was confused when I saw no detail. Without toes, coyote did not even enter the equation.

I had become so rutted in my habits of seeing that I had denied the possibility of seeing negative space, even though I have drawn it hundreds of times in my journal. What was even more ironic was that just days prior I had told my friend I was going to create big canvases projecting the negative space of tracks since they make such beautiful patterns.

Here I had become the brunt of coyote's crafty teachings. After years of watching and learning from them, I better understand their wily nature. But what is it about the coyote that has given it this reputation all across the Western United States?

Perhaps it is coyote's seeming indestructibility. In native lore, in story after story, coyote is burned, drowned, smothered, starved, crushed, but he continually comes back to life. Mountain men tell tales of coyote's uncanny ability to avoid traps and snares. Ranchers today are astounded by the tenacity of the coyote and its survival in the face of poisoning and unrestricted hunting. Presently in California there is open season on coyotes, which are considered varmints. Yet, while facing this oppressive energy, why has coyote not gone the way of the wolf?

It appears that versatility is the key to coyote's success. Before Europeans settled the West, coyotes, like wolves, roamed in large packs. Persecution from pioneers forced the coyote to adopt more solitary habits. Though they once pursued deer and antelope in packs, coyotes adapted to hunting individually. Smaller than the wolf, coyotes were able to survive on a diet of slighter prey, such as rodents and rabbits. In addition, coyotes also eat berries, seeds and other types of vegetation.

Although designed to hunt on the run, coyotes also show remarkable suppleness in strategy. Being digitigrades (walking and running on their toes), they are designed to speedily chase prey such as deer. But, fitting with their reputation as trickster, they are infamous for using wits over brawn to secure food. They use their fantastic stealth and senses to hunt rodents by leaping and pouncing and tossing prey in the air, far outside the traditional chase scenario.

They don't just hunt animals. I have often seen a coyote running from a campsite in broad daylight, carrying its prize of someone else's food.

As with the lesson I was taught in tracking, maybe the trickster coyote is teaching our modern population to look at new strategies toward survival rather than relying on outdated ruts that no longer serve

Meghan Walla-Murphy can be reached at the following e-mail: mwallamurphy@yahoo.com.

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