The Abduction of the Coyote

In January of last year, four wildlife rescue organizations coordinated to catch a sick half-grown coyote who had been finding refuge under my porch.  Coyotes are a protected species in Massachusetts, so before attempting a rescue, they had to get permission from the state.  The day that they finally received permission, he disappeared.  The temperature dropped to the teens, and we watched the forecast with growing alarm, worried we had missed our chance and he had frozen to death in a hole in the woods somewhere.  Finally he reappeared.  I saw his feet go by under the porch, and texted the team.  Within thirty minutes, six people arrived and made a whispered plan to surround the porch from all sides.  Armed with old comforters and sheets of siding we ran in from three directions and blocked off his exits, while other volunteers grappled for him with a catch pole through a basement window.  After several tense minutes, with only the sounds of his panicked breathing, the indoor team hauled him through the window and into my cellar, head first.  Everyone agreed that if we hadn't gotten him that day, he wouldn't have made it.  

He was suffering from secondary rodenticide poisoning.  At some point in his short life, he had already eaten enough poisoned field mice or rats to be dying of poisoning himself.  He was hypothermic, dehydrated, his blood wouldn't clot, and with his immune system nearly non-existent he was almost hairless from an overgrowth in the mites, bacteria, and fungi that are normally a natural and balanced part of the skin biome.  He was probably under my porch because there was a little warmth coming through the foundation, ignoring his instinct to avoid humans because he was so desperately cold.  After three months of specialist care, he was healthy enough to be released to the wild again.  

Because coyotes are social animals, and frequently use common trails, it's very probable that members of his family passed by my house in the days after his capture and read the story in the scents on scuffed leaves and churned snow.  Thanks to Newhouse Wildlife, Friends of Horn Pond, Cape Ann Wildlife, and Berkshire Wildlife for all their work to advocate for him, to catch him, and to heal him for a return to the woods of New England.  

Rage forest daughter;

Stand and sing.

He is everywhere, a scent on snow.

He is the unforgiven air.

He is the curled leaves.

He is everything.

He will come back changed.

He will come back again.  

The lost child returns in spring,

Traveling over dark water;

Stand and mourn forest daughter.

First of all, I'm the dog whisperer. It breaks my heart to read the backstory of your piece, but thankfully he at least has a chance because of all your and the teams' work. All variations of canines have my heart, and the words you gave us resonate loudly within me. You could of just "not cared", but there's too much of that in the world, and it makes me happy that you chose to pursue the path of effort in helping this poor creature return to safety in the wild. 

Now that my eyes are dry (lol), onto the music. I don't know much about choral writing, but I have some thoughts. For one, I'm a little sad to hear midi... haven't you made videos where you're singing all the parts? Perhaps for a future time 😄 

I love all the dissonance created by 2nds. Some where treated as suspensions, but others seemed to be used for color. It seemed very impressionable with the content you wrote about. I also really love the lyrics, especially this: 

"He is everywhere, a scent on snow. He is the unforgiven air. He is the curled leaves. He is everything".

I've lived all over the country, and my dad was the man that taught me about the outdoors. I lived in Alaska, and have had many encounters with wolves. It's always surreal, and there's a great deal of respect I have for them, for how they are one with nature and their environment. As dumb as this sounds, I've learned from them too, and your words reflect a great deal of wisdom and admiration for the wild world around you. 

Your music is always lovely, thank you for sharing