Morning blogsters:

Last night one of the cats awakened me from the window, even though that window's now covered with foggy plastic.  I don't know how she was able to pick up on what was going on outside, but I glanced at the monitor for the security camera when I saw the security light was on in the yard.

A spring coyote pup was out there wandering around checking things out.  That one's going to be a problem before too long, I'm thinking. 

Old timey country coyotes were as cunning as a living creature can be, but they could be depended upon to behave in certain ways.  They had a healthy respect for the cunning and destructive abilities of humans.  Out away from town one of the ways a person could keep down the number of coyotes coming in close bothering what wasn't to be bothered was to urinate around the chicken house daily, and around the perimeter of where you didn't want them.

When a person was bothered by with coyote-trouble, it would be a single one, not the entire pack.  The person could study him, identify him by a dozen traits, figure out his habits, and take him out without having to go after the whole pack.

Not so, these newfangled city coyotes.

I read in National Geographic magazine, I think it was, or maybe Smithsonian, yeah, I think it was a Smithsonian that Jeanne gave me, that coyotes have done a turnabout during the last 15 years.... nobody understands why.

There's a new kind of coyote moving into the cities and towns, first time anyone knows about, and they're living right there among us.  The article focused on the ones in one of the parks in Washington D.C.

I suppose I have more respect for the intellect of country coyotes than perhaps any other wild creature.  To be honest, I hate to even contemplate what's going to become of things when a large population of them grows up in cities unfraid of people, watching people, same as they do in the wild, studying them, learning from them.

We haven't heard the last of this.

 Jack