He looked like a dominant male. His coat was shiny and smooth. Well-fed. We crossed paths this morning on Ridgeview. He looked directly at me as he pranced across the pavement. This triggered a quick jolt of "fight or flight" adrenalin in some primitive part of my cerebrum. But before I could look for a stick or try to run away (the latter is now actually an option, since I've lost twenty pounds), the coyote continued on, seeking a warm breakfast in the golf course rough. A tender bunny would be nice, perhaps, or a poodle, kitty-cat or unsuspecting Yorkie, out doing his morning duties.
(These photos are not mine, one is by "Marya," the other I don't know, but this is exactly what I saw.)
My first fleeting impression was of an off-leash German Shepherd, then of a wolf, because the animal was so large and healthy-looking. But it was a coyote, alright.
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Meanwhile, it's Friday morning routines over on South Silverwood Drive, and sure enough, six bristly javelina crossed ahead of me on Ridgeview, trotting to the same location, at the same time I observed them last week. Friday has just got to be trash day in that neighborhood.
Homeward bound, I complimented a silver-haired lady, busily pruning her bushes again. I had seen her snipping away before. She lit up and waved me over with a leather-gloved hand to chat. This she did in an English accent, causing me to wonder aloud, "Why no English Tea Garden?" Charlotte just laughed and said that when she moved here 12 years ago, she planted roses everywhere, but had reluctantly given in to the javelinas.
Now she faithfully tends just native species, cloaked in natural defenses, all the while looking sharp for yet another rattlesnake under the leaves, ready to strike.Those English are tough.
