Coyote Traits and Trails

"... When the lore of our land finally gets written down, Don Coyote will loom bigger in it than Reynard the Fox looms in the literature of England and Continental Europe, where he is both hero and villain of an encyclopedia of tale, myth, ballad, fable and other tradition. . ."

WITHOUT GOING into a discussion of Nature's balances and with the ad mission that I had rather hear a coyote howl than listen to the out-crooningest crooner that ever crooned over the radio, I want to talk about the coyote as a character in the life of the Southwest, the West and Mexico.

When the lore of our land finally gets written down, Don Coyote will loom bigger in it than Reynard the Fox looms in the litera ture and lore of England and Continental Eur ope, where he is both hero and villain of an encyclopedia of tale, myth, ballad, fable and other forms of tradition. Long before Columbus sailed, Old Man Coyote had taken his place in a cycle of literally thousands of folk tales traditional with the Indians of North America. The Spaniards in mixing with the Indians took over the coyote culture, generally adding the element of irony to the tales. Both the Mexi cans and the Indians have transmitted much When the lore of our land finally gets written down, Don Coyote will loom bigger in it than Reynard the Fox looms in the literature and lore of England and Continental Eur ope, where he is both hero and villain of an encyclopedia of tale, myth, ballad, fable and other forms of tradition. Long before Columbus sailed, Old Man Coyote had taken his place in a cycle of literally thousands of folk tales traditional with the Indians of North America. The Spaniards in mixing with the Indians took over the coyote culture, generally adding the element of irony to the tales. Both the Mexi cans and the Indians have transmitted much coyote lore to the English-speaking dwellers in Coyote Land.

The coyote is important to us, not merely because of the harm he has done or because of any material good that may be credited to him. He is important because of the effect he has had on the imagination of his human associates. The rounded estimate of any animal comprises not only the physical facts concerning the animal, but what human beings have thought, imagined about him. An imported elephant makes an important circus piece, and, from the point of view of world history, of big game hunting and of natural science, he is a mighty animal. But for America, and especially for the Southwest he is not nearly so important as the cotton-tail rabbit. This innocuous, infantile creature of briar patches, burrows and hollow logs gave us Uncle Remus and his deathless tales. For us who belong to our soil, Br'r Rabbit is bigger than any elephant that ever smashed over India. He is big and important, not because of his relation to natural history or political economy, but because of his contribution to human imagination. No Joel Chandler Harris has yet appeared to gather up into fitting form the great coyote tradition, as the Molly Cottontail tradition was gathered from Southern negroes into Uncle Remus' Br'r Rabbit tales. The gatherer will some day appear. I propose to tell some of the tales that such a gatherer will find. Before I tell them, however, I must dwell on the coyote's smartness on his character.

He is as smart as a cutting horse, as smart as a Philadelphia lawyer, as smart as a steel trap even though he is often trapped as smart as a Ph. D. graduate right out of Harvard and come West to civilize the natives and teach them how not to talk their own language. Down in Mexico, the gente say that "Next to God, the coyote is the smartest animal on earth." When any living creature takes advantage of the situation. I call him smart.

Even a man with a gun has to be good to kill many prairie dogs. They build their holes close together, keep a sharp lookout for their enemies, warn each other and, when pressed or in danger, a dog will dive into a neighbor's hole if it is more convenient than his own. A hunter told me that early one morning he noticed a coyote clawing down the mounded-up dirt around a group of prairie dog holes and stopping them up. The hunter stopped to see what would happen. After the coyote had filled up a patch of holes, he got off considerably to one side and hid himself. Finally one of the inhabitants of a hole near the hiding place ventured out in the direction of the holes that had been stopped up. The coyote made a leap that cut Mr. Prairie Dog off from his hole. Mr. Prairie Dog scuttled for one of the neighboring holes but it wasn't there any longer. The cunning coyote had stopped it up, had by strategy trapped his prey. He had a good meal.

One December day I tied my horse on a hill in a big pasture down in the Brush Country and set out afoot down a brushy draw to try to stalk a buck. Slipping along the trail, I saw in a sparse opening ahead of me a coyote down on the left side of the trail. He was looking very intently, though in a manner altogether patient, to the right. I stopped to watch him. For maybe two minutes he remained absolutely motionless; then he sensed me and disappeared.

"Long before Columbus sailed, Old Man Coyote had taken his place in a cycle of literally thousands of folk tales traditional with the Indians of North America..."

When I stepped to the spot he had occupied and looked where he had been looking, I saw a badger digging into a rat's nest of cactus leaves and thorned sticks in and around a clump of prickly pear. The badger is obtuse in his senses. He was not in the least disturbed by my nearness. Directly he got down to the fur lining in the nest, and an enormous fat wood rat darted out, coming my way. Had I been a coyote, or had the coyote displaced by me been in this selected position, that rat would certainly have become a juicy morsel. A Mex ican goat herder told me that he had seen as many as three coyotes hanging around a badger and waiting for him to scare out woodrats. Of course the badger sometimes catches the rat himself, but a big old nest usually has more than one runway into it.

A coyote can dig fairly well in soft ground, but he is nothing like the excavator the badger is. He knows his limitations, but he also knows his abilities. He knows that so long as the chipmunk is alert he cannot dig him out. In the fall, however, the chipmunk hibernates and goes to sleep. Then the coyotes of the Rockies have a veritable feast. One October day Enos Mills counted forty-two chipmunk holes within a quarter of a mile of his cabin that had been raided the night before by coyotes, drops of blood about many of the holes showing that the raiders had made captures. In the desert of western Sonora, along the Gulf of California, where dry arroyos coming down from the lava mountains sink into the sands, the mule deer, bighorn sheep, jack rabbits and other animals live without water. But the coyote knows where water lies under the sand, and he will dig a slanting hole down three or four feet to get it.

Perhaps there is a kind of understanding be tween the coyote and the badger. The Mexican name for badger is talcoyote "like a coyote" He has been observed following as best he could a coyote that chased a cottontail into a hole, the presumption being that he would dig the rabbit out not to divide the spoils, however. Mary Austin, who made many acute obser vations on the wild life of the Southwest, says "... He is called a coward. He can't shoot like a man. He can't fight like a tiger. He can't go against a bunch of hounds. He knows his own limitations. The only way he can survive is to slip around. He's no more coward than any other animal, including man, is a coward for evading what is recognized as certain death..."

"... These stories, my children of whatever age belong to a long time ago. I know many more in which Brother Coyote acts. It does not seem to me, though, that anybody much will be listening for coyote stories for a long time now. Yet, let us keep them. They belong to the land we belong to. They say something of the soil that is ours. They are dear to us."

The coyote watches crows and buzzards-"tracks in the sky," as Indians called these birds-for guidance to carrion. All hunters of mountain lions that I have queried on the matter, how ever, agree that the coyote almost never disturbs a lion's kill, though certainly he must some times sense it. The lion eats a coyote now and then; the coyote is afraid of him.

The caracara, that bird half-buzzard and half-eagle sometimes called the prairie eagle and by Mexican "bone-breaker," is death on jack rabbits. The caracaras usually hunt in pairs. If the rabbit gets into brush before they overtake him, they will fly as close down as they can and then, when one of them finds an opening to strike through, it will hook its sharp claws into the rabbit. Sometimes the jack will make a cry that can be heard by a coyote hundreds of yards away. He has probably been trotting along behind the caracaras anyway, following them by sight or by the cackle and talk they make during a race. He may jump in and get the rabbit they have cornered, or he may snatch it away from them after they have killed it.

I know a man down in the Brush Country who can lie down in tall weeds or grass and call up a coyote by imitating the squeak of a rabbit or a rat. There isn't anything much that anybody or any other animal eats that the coyote will not eat also. He is as omnivorous as man; he takes advantage of whatever his environment offers in the way of food all kinds of fruit. all kinds of flesh, whether a grass hopper, a frog, a lizard, fresh mutton, a rotten buzzard, even the hide off an old cow that died in the bog a year ago. He may worry with that piece of rawhide off and on all winter, the little juice he can extract from it good to the last drop.

One of the most historic railroads in western America was the short line connecting Walla Walla, Washington, and the port of Wallula. The company that built it was chartered in 1868 and by 1873 trains were running over it. For a long time they did not run very fast, it is true. The company kept some dogs to run ahead of the freight engine and scare cattle off the track so that the engine would not run over them. There were two freight rates, one for "fast" freight and one for "slow" freight. The fast freight, for which the charge was higher, was put at the front end of the train and the slow freight was put next to the caboose.

The first ten miles of this road were built entirely of wood, four-by-six stringers of fir being used for rails. It was found, however, that the wheels of the engine and cars wore the wood severely, and the management con-ceived the idea of topping, or plating, the wooden stringers with cowhide. Hides were more plentiful than iron. They were cut into strips, moistened, and nailed down. When dried, they were hard enough to resist the grinding of iron wheels. But there was an element in the country that the railroad had not counted on.

The winter after the hides were nailed down was unusually severe. Coyotes, always looking for something to eat, were especially hungry.

They found the railroad track and proceeded to eat up the hide part of it.

A coyote will sometimes rush the season a little on a watermelon patch, but he has an unerring nose for detecting a ripe melon. When two or three coyotes raid a patch at night and find the melons sweet and juicy, their cry is a joy to hear provided the hearer is not hungry for watermelon himself. In the season when the chapotes (Mexican persimmons) and the tunas, (prickly pear apples) are ripe, the coyote fattens. I don't believe, however. as some folks say, that the coyote uses his tail to brush the little thorns off the tunas; he does sometimes roll them in the sand. I have watched a coyote gathering the little black brazil berries, the chapotes (Mexican persimmons) and the tunas, (prickly pear apples) are ripe, the coyote fattens. I don't believe, however. as some folks say, that the coyote uses his tail to brush the little thorns off the tunas; he does sometimes roll them in the sand. I have watched a coy ote gathering the little black brazil berries, which are fairly well protected by thorns. He will rear up on his hind legs to bite off a high up berry that is clear of thorns.

Many tales have been told of how coyotes catch sheep. Just as there are more ways than one of curing an egg-sucking dog, there are probably more ways than one for a coyote to catch a sheep. This account came to me from an old pastor, or sheepherder, south of the Rio Grande. He had two dogs. One evening about dusk while he was penning his flock, two coy otes appeared. The dogs took after them, and while both dogs were following one coyote, the other circled about and sneaked into the herd. The pastor did not see him until the coyote had almost succeeded with his cunning. The coy ote knew better than to kill a sheep and at tempt to eat it right at the pen; he knew it would be wise to lead his mutton out to one side, beyond sight, before butchering it. When the pastor saw him, he had caught a fat ewe by the neck skin and wool with his teeth, placed his body parallel with her, and, while leading her, was gently switching her rump with his tail, the two moving off like a pair of necked burros. I will not guarantee the veracity of the pastor who solemnly described this pro cedure. In Honey in the Horn, a novel of the Oregon country, by H. L. Davis, there is a vivid description of a coyote's working a sheep out of a herd by pressing his shoulder against hers.

A correspondent in Montana has recently written me an account of a farmer's pet coyote in that state. The farmer kept his pet tied by a long rope to the corner of the house, so that he could not chase chickens. But the coyote learned how to catch chickens without chasing them. When given food, he would take it to some place where the chickens would spy it and also near which he could comfortably lie down in the sun. Then he would appear to go sound asleep. For a while after detecting the food, the chickens would be leery, but when they noticed how still and oblivious of them the sleeping coyote was, they would come up to the food and begin eating. In less time than it takes to tell, the coyote would pounce on one.

An intelligent young man employed by the Department of Forestry, Hunting and Fishing in the state of Guerrero, Mexico, gave me an account of a pet coyote he had known. This coyote was very playful with the dogs of his master, a farmer, but in time he forsook them to return to his native wilds. Not long afterwards the family began missing chickens. Yet the dogs were so watchful that they could not (Continued on Page Forty)