(It’s a) WildLife

I’ve been hiking on the same trail near my home for about 5 years now.

There is an hour-long, single track loop that I walk and I know this trail like the back of my hand.

I enjoy the wildflowers in the Spring and walking over the footbridges with the rushing water underneath them in the Winter. This trail is more than just a trail, it is my church. I find God on my trail.

Because I’ve known this trail so intimately for 5 years I also consider the trail my dear friend. Worry and stress or even just random thoughts fall away with each step and breath of fresh, tree-filled air.

Through my daily traipsing in the woods I have cultivated a deep appreciation and respect for nature.

On Thursday I was doing my usual hour-long loop. I was about three quarters of the way through my hike when I heard the howling of coyotes. Not just one or two. Not even three or four. But what sounded to me like at least twenty coyotes howling about 100 feet away from where I was standing.

My initial reaction was to smile. Wow. Hearing so many of them howl was incredibly beautiful.

But then…

I’ve never felt afraid on my trail before but as I heard the mournful howls of these beasts who were only a short distance away from me I noticed fear creep up.

I didn’t know what to do because I had a coaching client at 9:30am and it was now 9:10am. I could either walk the three quarters of the way back and be completely late for my client or I could walk the remaining quarter and make it to my coaching appointment on time.

What to do?

I stood there with my back against a tree and contemplated my choices while the howling echoed off the canyon walls.

After a few minutes the howling stopped and I decided to go forward, in the direction of the coyotes.

I looked around for a big stick. I found one and then as I started walking I decided to pick up an even bigger stick.

I got to the place where I had heard the howling and I could feel myself sweating and my heart racing. I’ve been face to face with coyotes before and enjoyed the experience but that was one coyote. Not a pack of them!

I heard the rustle of leaves and looked up. If I hadn’t heard the rustling I would not have seen him because he was up on the hillside a short distance away and mostly camouflaged by the leaves on the ground that were the same color as his thick coat.

The coyote looked at me. I lifted my stick and grunted like some prehistoric cavewoman. He scampered further up the hill and looked down at me.

I wondered where his clan was and began to walk past him. I wondered if the other 19 were as well camouflaged as he was. Fearful thoughts of ‘will a coyote pounce on me and bike my neck?’ came into my brain.

I imagined myself big, big, big. I imagined myself as an ape, big and black and I grunted and moved my stick around as I quickly walked down the trail all the while looking behind me every few seconds.

I’ve never felt so alone.

I usually long for (and experience) solitude on my hikes but at that moment I was praying for a hiker or mountain biker to please come along.

Where are people traipsing through the forest when you need them?

I kept walking and found myself alternating between thoughts of “I’m safe, coyotes do not attack people” to “that was a huge pack of coyotes I heard” to “I can’t imagine it is my fate to be killed by coyotes” to “That Bay Area woman who was killed by a mountain lion probably didn’t wake up that morning thinking that she would be killed by a mountain lion”.

Sheesh.

The light vs. the dark. All in my brain. No coyotes following me except for the coyotes in my brain.

I got to my car and wanted to hug it. But I didn’t. Instead I sat in the car with my heart pounding and a big smile on my face.

Safe.

But now what to do? I love my trail and normally I’d be out there right now, hiking away. But here I am safe and cozy in my bed with my laptop. I can feel the tendrils of fear when I think about my trail. I don’t want to be afraid of the spot I love so very much.

A friend who, bless her heart, thought she was being helpful sent me a link to an article that described a woman being attacked and killed by a pack of coyotes.

I haven’t read it and I don’t think I will.

Instead I’m investigating stun guns and pepper spray and a wide assortment of products. Oh, and I’ll probably be carrying a big stick too.

If you are walking my trail you might hear me grunting and sounding like a scary prehistoric cavewoman before you actually see me.

And hopefully the coyotes will too.

Tagged as: coyote sightings, Life as a Grand Adventure, Taking A Risk