Thanks so much for taking a listen, Thatguy! Because we live right on a coyote trail in between a few patches of woods, we see them frequently, usually late at night or early in the morning when we are coming and going with the dog. They are absolutely amazing creatures. After the dramatic rescue of this one, I had to call the team for another one later in the year who had been hit by a car and was hunkered down, hiding in a pile of raked leaves on the sidewalk. She didn't make it unfortunately, but I'm glad they were able to get her to the vet and see what was possible.
Yes, when I get a little time I'll sing all the parts. Most people prefer to hear things actually sung, but it's quick to make the midis, so I thought I'd go ahead and get this one out there instead of waiting until I have time to do some recording.
If you want a good coyote book, (a bit about wolves too), I recommend "Coyote America" by Dan Flores. It's sort of a history of the United States told through the history of our interactions with coyotes. Coyote stories from various American tribes, the history of early colonization and the expansion of white settlers into the West, the founding of the national parks, a long discomfort with any sort of wildness near our farms, ranches, and homes, and then increasing urbanization and the times in which we live now.
I'm always amazed by interactions with wildlife when you actually pay attention. Last summer my neighbor called me over in wonder and distress. She had been pulling Virginia Creeper vines in her yard and had accidentally uncovered a gray catbird nest that she hadn't known was there. She said the sound when she pulled the vine was a heart-wrenching shriek. A few days later, I was pruning the Devil's Darning Needle vine that I run up my porch railing, and one of the catbirds flew over and sat in it a foot from my face and stared me down, while its mate made stressed little chirps from the bush with the nest fifteen feet away in the neighbor's yard. I have never seen one even half that close before. It literally could have hopped onto my hand. It had just had a major family emergency involving a human pulling and trimming vines, and here was a different human, also trimming vines. Not vines that affected it personally, but it was willing to get VERY close to me to see what I was doing and express its worry about my actions. I mentally assured it that I wasn't going to go near its babies, and that neither would my neighbor if she had known they were there, and didn't breathe for a few minutes, and then quietly slipped back inside and let it have the yard to itself to calm down and consult with its family over the ordeal.