Two Points of View
.... by Dee Walmsley - nature writer
He pauses, sniffs the air, ears twitching, turning, tuning in, then he continues on. The hen house sits 25 feet away. The last rays of sun are filling the sky with their pinky tones. The hens are settling in for the night, their squawky voices emanating through the walls as they jostle feathers perching in hay nests and rafter roosts.
A gust of wind catches a feather sending it twirling into the air. The coyote’s golden eyes sparkle as he sits watching, waiting. The feather dances in the wind. The mangy critter cocks its head from side to side swaying to the rhythm of the dance. The wind moves on and the feather floats silently to the ground. Suddenly the coyote jumps into the air like a catapulted cat and pounces onto the feather, then just as quickly it loses interest and approaches the chicken-wire fence. Feet fly with the dirt as the digging begins, he pauses catches his breath and shakes the dirt from the wetness of his nose then continues his quest for chicken dinner. The chicken coop is silent.
“The air is cooling, must mean that it’s sunset, dinner time. Guess I’ll just mosey on over to farmer Brown’s chicken coop and have me a drumstick or two. Nuthin’ like an evenings stroll to work up an appetite. Scratch, scratch, durn fleas is leaching the blood right out of me. Oh well a little white meat will take my mind off them for a spell. Sniff, sniff, I can smell them in the air. Ah loves it when the wind blows, shuffles them flea varmits around too. Whut’s thet whupped up thar? Ain’t no bird. May as well set a minute and keep my eye on it, whatever it is. It’s comin’ down to ground, and it’s all mine. C’mon bones spring inta action! Heck jus one of them feather things, best I git busy and stir up a few more of em. Cain’t figger this out every time I dig a hole someone fills it in. Ah well nuthin fore it but to dig another. Whew! I’m not the pup I use to be. Phooey, hate it when I gits a snout full o’ dirt. Them hens know sumpthin’ is up, just a couple more scratches and I’m in.
The coyote has stopped digging. He looks around then he lays flat on his belly extends his front paws disappears for a second and emerges from his tunnel on the other side of the wire fence. He is in the enclosure. He stands erect like a victor and proudly shakes the dust from his filthy coat. Stealthy like a thief in the night, he creeps towards the ramp leading into the chicken coop. He licks his chops in anticipation. The once magnificent tail twitches. Placing his two front paws on the ramp he slowly pulls his shoulders and head forward. His head enters the opening and all hell breaks loose. The chickens are heard squawking and fluttering within the coop. The coyote now has the front half of himself wedged into the doorway, his tail switching back and forth, hind legs pushing forward with all their might. An explosion rips through the air! The coyote shoots through the portal amidst a flurry of chickens. The hens exit into the enclosure two by two feathers flying. Somewhere a rooster crows as the farmer approaches the hen house.
May 04, 2000