December, First Week

I met Billy one morning when I drove into town, looking for someone who could deliver some firewood to the farm. I checked at the little grocery store in Richards where the local men gather for coffee every morning. Billy was the only one who had any wood available, so I contracted for a delivery. As it turns out, he was a real find because he used to work on this very property, the Hullum place. He knows it like the back of his hand: where the natural springs are located, where the sand is the deepest for planting watermelons, where the hen house used to be located for the richest soil. And he knows how to cook poke, a common spring green in these parts, "so's it won't kill ya." When he delivered the wood, he mentioned he would be willing to help out with any garden and fence work, so he has come out to help with several projects.

Billy was the one who pointed out the coyote who was hanging around in the meadow. From my safe perch on the deck, I watched the wild creature for a couple of days. One morning I even saw him make a magnificent leap into the air, as if he was trying to catch a rodent in mid-air. His natural grace left quite an impression on me. The image remained in my mind's eye for days—such a free spirit.

Several days later, just before twilight, I am surprised to see the coyote down by the old barn. Enchanted, and curious too, I just can't resist going down to the meadow to attempt to check him out closer. As I walk stealthily across the grassy slopes, he does spot me. Actually, he looks up, straight at me, without moving a muscle. After a moment, he seems to lose interest and kind of meanders along the row of trees. I continue to walk steadily, but very slowly, in his direction. Next he goes on the alert, turns and watches me again. Although I am still quite a distance from him, he begins to retreat, hesitates and stops to watch me, and then he starts moving across the meadow again.

Since he is so cautious, I slow my pace even more. To intrigue him, I make a strange calling sound and watch to see if he will react. He stops, looks at me, and then starts trotting along the edge of the woods. I hold my breath, but he doesn't really retreat. Moving only a few paces, he pauses again and looks across at me. His big pointed ears are held high and alert. Our little game goes on for about ten minutes, until he finally lowers his bushy tail and disappears into the woods.

Being in contact with this natural creature—even though at a distance—was such an incredible experience. I am so thrilled that even the horse seems to know I am in a different frame of mind. He runs over to me afterwards and accompanies me back to the gate! This encounter is a real milestone for me . . . although I feed Copper daily, I carefully avoid any contact with the huge animal. As it turns out, I'm more intimidated by horses than coyotes.

I continue to see the coyote in the meadow every day for almost a week. He's usually hanging out near the trees, but occasionally he ventures into the meadow and breaks into a jaunt. For fear of frightening him away, I decide not to bother him again. Nevertheless, I just can't resist putting out some dried dog food at the spot where I saw him a couple of times a week. Sadly after a week, I never see the coyote again although the food disappears.

Billy called it a coyote, but it is so big and has such a bushy tail, that I am not sure. Certainly, he is a lot bigger and furrier than the Arizona coyotes that used to laugh in the gully by my home there. I even speculate he might be a wolf. When I ask around, several locals inform me that he is not really a pure coyote, but what they call a cayot. They explain that cayots are coyotes that are mixed with wolf, or maybe a large dog, like a German Shepherd.

A few days later it is such a delicious day I just cannot waste it inside the house. I jump out of my winter clothes and run down to the meadow to take in some warm rays. The winter sun feels soft and gentle on my smooth white skin. My first inclination is to investigate the spot where the coyote vanished into the woods. From a distance, it appears to be a big thicket, so I surmise it might be his hideout.

When I approach the area, I am surprised to find that what I thought was a thicket is one tree, a huge white oak, lying on the ground. The tree is so big that it took out two smaller ones when it fell. I find that the horizontal surface of its trunk is totally covered with a thick cushy green blanket of moss. Tiny fragile ferns are sprouting out of the verdant overgrowth. As I walk barefoot on the carpet spread over the branches of the gigantic tree, I sense an aliveness pulsating through my body that feels like a subtle vibration. I pause so I can savor the incredible experience of being inside the structure of this superb creation. Part of it is alive, for I can see that some of the roots still burrow deep in the soil on the underside of the trunk. I won't know how much of it remains vital until spring comes in a few months. After peeling off the rest of my clothing, I stretch out on a perfect pad of green moss. A shiver runs up my spine as I feel the connection with this quiet giant underneath and the broad expanse of soft blue sky overhead.

After some time of reverie, a very unusual birdcall (a turkey?) draws my attention to another area that also looks inviting. When I go over to investigate the lush green grove, I find a stream of clear clean water with a white sandy bottom—no mud to deal with. Without hesitation, I set out wading through the ankle-deep chilled water. My body feels alive and healthy taking in fresh sun water air—all at the same time.

I never find any evidence of the source of the birdcall, but I do find other displays to admire. My delight is heightened by clusters of small black damselflies floating through the air. Some have white dots on their wings; others are shimmering with iridescent turquoise trim. Many are sipping a drink from the wet sandy banks. Then I glimpse an unusual plant with leathery leaves. Going over to investigate, I find a delicate arbutus plant spreading over the steep banks. A gentle fragrance from its tiny waxy flowers hovers over the dark green foliage. Such a sacred place on the earth! How many sacred places like this still exist? Haunts where coyotes are safe from civilization. I know there must be hundreds in this forest. It makes my heart glad.