Wiley in NYC

A March article on yahoo.com (and unfortunately no longer available for those who missed this blog first time around) about a coyote trapped in Central Park reminded me of how often we humans foolishly believe we can experience nature on our terms, as if it were some piece of yard art we can add or delete as the mood strikes us. We fill our feeders or leave pet food outside with the naive idea that only those animals for whom we intend it will be attracted to it. We fling our garbage by the roadside or fill our garbage cans to overflowing, then feel violated when “dangerous” wildlife dare invade our space.

Aside from that, coyotes seem particularly irritating some people, perhaps because of what they’re not: they’re not wolves. Instead, they function as wannabe-wolves to detractors stuck in environments lacking the real thing. The same kinds of blame are often heaped upon them as wolves, such as the wanton destruction of domestic animals’ in hopes of making them legitimate targets.

But unlike those big, brawny, secretive, and blatantly wild and highly romanticized wolves, the coyotes’ relative smallness and dog-like opportunism, to say nothing of their cartoon heritage, diminishes their machismo factor considerably. At the same time, though, and what really grates on some folks I think, is their adaptability and success, always reminding us how easily and silently they can slip in and out of environments we like to think are our own.