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Not long ago, I wrote about a terrible coyote attack in Nova Scotia that took the life of 19-year-old Taylor Mitchell. I concluded that although coyotes have the potential to be dangerous, history shows that they shouldn't be much of a concern to most people. Well, I had the opportunity to put my beliefs to the test in a face-to-face encounter with a coyote and I'm happy to report that the meeting ended well for both of us.

I was going out to see what animal tracks I could find in the snow around a beaver pond and maybe scope out some photo opportunities for another time. Since it was just going to be a short hike and I wanted to travel light, I transferred a few essentials from my backpack to my camera bag—granola bar, compass, GPS and my predator call, which I happened upon as I dug around in the bowels of my pack. It's a little instrument that, if you blow into it right, sounds like a deer or rabbit in distress. Any predator that hears it will most likely come check out the possibility of an easy meal. I haven't used the call in years, but for some reason, I threw it into my camera bag and headed out for my walk.

The six inches of soft snow silenced my footsteps as I topped a small ridge on the edge of the pond. The flash of movement caught my eye when a coyote on the opposite bank lunged after something in the snow. He came up with a vole (a rodent slightly larger than a mouse) wiggling in his jaws. I settled behind some cattail reeds as he focused on finishing his lunch.

I remembered back to earlier that same day when I was talking to a couple of devoted hunters. One was describing how he had seen a coyote in a private field where he couldn't shoot it, and how much it pained him not to be able to kill the animal. Funny, killing this handsome creature was the last thing on my mind. I don't have a problem with hunting, especially for food, but a lust for blood and hatred of an entire species just makes no sense to me.

After a few minutes, the coyote finished his snack and disappeared into the forest. That was when I remembered the predator call in my bag. I did my best imitation of a dying rabbit, though it sounded more like a duck with indigestion. In any case, the coyote came darting right back into view, sniffing and peering across the pond to find the source of the strange noise.

I knew I was in for something special when the coyote hopped over the stream that fed the pond and sniffed his way straight toward my hiding spot. As he got close, I knew he could hear the shutter clicking on my camera. He sensed something strange was going on, but couldn't quite figure out what it was. Hesitantly, he approached a few feet at a time.

What would happen, I wondered, if he blundered right into me? I kept taking pictures as the coyote inched nearer, until finally he was as close as 10 or 15 meters. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I was shaking from some combination of excitement at getting some great wildlife photos and, yes, fear as I thought of the poor woman who had been killed by a pair of coyotes only weeks before. I'd like to think that most of the shivering came from sheer exhilaration at watching this incredible wild predator's eyes and ears twitch as he struggled to determine whether there was food or danger ahead.

Then, suddenly, the game was over. I don't know if he finally got close enough to smell me, or if he was able to make out my profile among the cattails, or if he just got the willies and decided that a duck with gastritis wasn't appetizing enough to risk his life over. Whatever it was, he turned tail, jumped back over the creek and dashed into the woods.

I sat still for some time, hoping he would poke his head back out of the trees, but after a few minutes, a chorus of coyotes sang out somewhere downstream from me. No doubt “my” coyote had found his mate and let her know that something strange was afoot. When they finished, the spell was broken. I put away my camera gear, stretched my stiff legs and hiked back to my vehicle as if in a daze. I've had many encounters with wild animals and dangerous creatures in zoos, but few will compare with catching the gaze of this coyote on a sunny December afternoon.

Updated 2/24/11; originally posted 1/11/10.

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