Me and Ma Nature

By Mike Nettleton 

I’ve always had a tenuous relationship with nature. Which is to say it both amazes me and scares me (bleep)less.

Once, while staying in a cabin on the property of Carolyn’s mother and father in the Catskill mountains of New York, a sound from outside the window made me sit bolt upright in bed. It was a loud, electric, hummy-chirpy-buzzy sound that seemed to envelop the whole structure.

“Relax, town boy,” my wife reassured me. “It’s just katydids. Go back to sleep.”

“Katy-whoozits?” My teeth chattered as I asked. “Are they predators?”

“No, silly, they have no desire to break in here and eat your brain.”

“Y . . . you’re sure?”

“It’d just be a light snack for them, anyway. They’re bush crickets. Insects. And this time of year, they’re in love.”

“Oh,” I said. “So, the sound they’re making is just katydid talk for ‘Hey baby, what’s your sign?’”

She snorted, punched me in the shoulder, and went back to sleep.

The other day, a coyote walked down the middle of our street, big as you please, and spent some time casing the neighborhood. They’re impressive-looking wild dogs and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to encounter one while perambulating about. I made a note to myself to try not to look like a rump roast the next time I took a walk to the park and back.

I decided knowledge is power, so I Googled up “fun facts about coyotes” and came up with a sampler.    

• Coyotes are omnivores. Which means they don’t just eat small critters like rats, birds and schnauzers but are also partial to berries, vegetables and fallen fruit. So, if you’re worried that you might encounter one of these wild dogs, you might want to carry some broccoli with you.

• They’re monogamous and mate for life. Which makes coyote prenup agreements unnecessary paperwork. 

• They are fassssst! They’ve been clocked at 35-43 miles-per-hour. Contrary to what the cartoon would lead you to believe, they’re almost twice as fast as a roadrunner. However, it is true that they’re prone to ordering products from the Acme company that will blow up in their faces or fall off a cliff and brain them.

• Coyotes are, by far, the most vocal wild mammals in North America. Researchers have identified 11 different growls, huffs, woofs, yips, howls, whines, and yodels coming from the beast. (You can tell the ones that yodel, they’ll be wearing lederhosen.)

• And finally, this. Coyotes adapt well to city life. The one we saw on our street is not unique. Urban coyotes are less shy and more likely to eat cats, pet hamsters, and human-made food than their rural cousins. They’ll also munch ornamental fruits and seeds from non-native species like figs, grapes, and palms. Reportedly, (and this is especially timely with Christmas on the horizon) they are one of the few creatures on the planet that will voluntarily devour fruitcake.

 Well, it appears the coyote is still in the neighborhood. A quiche that was cooling on a windowsill has vanished and there are reports of yodeling in the vicinity. A neighborhood posse has been assembled to look for a neighbor’s missing duck. The pitchforks and blazing torches are a nice touch.

I’ll be honest, the idea of a renegade coyote in the vicinity spooks me a little. But at least no one has reported hearing any katydids.  

The Quake, the Coyote, and Other Concerns

Carolyn J. Rose

 The Cascadia Subduction Zone has been quiet lately—too quiet. Scientists worry that the tectonic plates under the Pacific Ocean are locked up and will unlock not with a series of relatively small quakes, but with one massive temblor. A recent report suggested that I should be worried too, so I added the subduction zone to my sweat-it list.

But I put it near the bottom. There’s nothing I can do about the movement of those plates. I can’t prevent or ameliorate what’s to come. If the plates rip loose like a giant zipper, much of the Pacific Northwest will shake, rattle, shatter, collapse, burn, or be inundated by a tsunami.

If I obsess about when that will happen and where I’ll be and whether I’ll survive, I’ll lose a lot of sleep and gain a lot of weight. (Yes, I’m a stress eater.) What I can do is prepare for that day—stockpile supplies, stash cash, make plans for rendezvous points, and study up on first aid.

What I can also do is focus on smaller and more immediate dangers. For example, the coyote roaming my neighborhood.

Recently, in broad daylight, I spotted him (or maybe her) peering through the fence at my dogs. He didn’t hustle away when I shouted, but slowly slunk off. A day or so later a neighbor opened his back door to find a coyote a few feet away. And my husband spotted one trotting across a main street. These guys are getting bold and will likely grow even bolder as winter progresses.

But I can do something about the coyotes. I can take steps to take my yard off the top of their list of potential places to dine—turn on more lights, never let the dogs out unless I’m with them, watch for digging around the fence, make sure there’s nothing a carnivore would like in the compost.

I’ll also network with neighbors to keep up on coyote sightings. Getting to know the folks around me might serve me well when those tectonic plates unlock, the big quake comes, and we have to depend on each other until outside help arrives.