Monday, November 2, 2020

The Crowing of the Coyotes

 

Halloween night. I took the dog out one last time before bed. Dark as only a country road without streetlights can get. A nearly-full moon caught in the tree branches. A cold wind blowing. Stars starting to come out in the inky sky. And then…a howl. Far off, one high-pitched note suspended in the air. A cold, lonely sound. Solitary, not a pack. Not a wolf. A lone coyote? Not quite. What then? Again and again, that one sustained note. And then I heard the little tell-tale yip at the beginning and I could identify it. It was…a rooster.

Came inside again, giggling at myself. Silly city woman. Chilled by the howling of a rooster.

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