The coyote appeared half a block ahead of me. His brown pointy ears and quick stride gave him away. This was no lost neighbor’s dog racing across 36th Avenue bounding off down Franklin. This was one of our urban coyotes who takes cats and birds and left half a squirrel on my back patio last summer. I know he/they have been in our backyard and the neighbors see them at night sometimes while walking their dogs. It stopped me though to see him at 9.45 a.m. on an overcast Wednesday when the construction men were working across the street, the traffic into the Starbucks was heavy as usual and I was on my walk to get my tea before the rain started.
Coyote. Trickster, magic, wild one, living amongst us in this dense city neighborhood. The wild is right here. Now. We don’t need to be far out in the wilderness for coyote medicine. We don’t need to be out of the city to hear the owls, like the amazing hooting owl I heard for the first time the morning I was up around 5 writing and preparing to leave for the writers conference. At my desk overlooking the 100 year old plum tree, where the squirrels and raccoons nest, there was an owl or two. I’ve seen their markings but never heard them before. What an omen for the good things to come.
The wild is right here, waiting for me to pay attention, to be present with, to be witnessed, to be heard, to be seen, taken in, to know that we are not alone.