Our quest towards understanding coyote ecology and behavior began with a typical adventure – tracking one of our radio-collared eastern coyote packs on a quiet, cold Cape Cod evening. For the purposes of our study, this event could have taken place virtually anywhere. This particular example occurred during the middle of winter in Barnstable County.
It was Sunday, 25 February 2001 at 8:30 PM. The temperature was 33° Fahrenheit with biting wind gusts up to 40 miles per hour that drove the sleet noisily against my windows. I’d been parked in my pickup truck with the lights off for 20 minutes, facing a golf course that borders the back of an apartment complex in Mashpee, Massachusetts.
I noticed movement periodically at some of the lighted windows as people looked out, apparently wondering what I was doing in their parking lot with my driver's side window rolled down in such miserable weather. But bored by my stillness, they almost simultaneously closed their curtains to seal themselves off from the dilemma I posed, and the cold, stormy night.
I, however, was hot on the trail of a four-legged quarry, and the receiver I had out my open window indicated that something was very near. I used my binoculars to scan the nearby fairway covered with three inches of slushy snow. The full moon, although partially blocked by heavy clouds, provided a pale light that illuminated the open landscape of the golf course.
Suddenly, there they were. Materializing from the dark backdrop of the nearby woods, three large figures emerged like ghosts, moving stealthily onto the back of the fairway. After a moment, the coyotes I was watching loped gracefully across the golf course together. Then the two animals out in front noticed something ahead and bolted after it at full speed. The third animal pursued them about 100 feet behind. When the last animal was out of sight, I started the truck and drove to a trail a short distance away that led in the direction they were heading. I left the vehicle and grabbed my receiver. From there, I located the fresh, dog-like footprints in the snow and began tracking them on foot.
The weather was truly miserable. The wind was piercing and I reminded myself how much I loved my chosen profession as golf ball-sized chunks of hail hit me in the face. Depending completely on my receiver to guide me, the chase led me across a main road to a different section of the golf course. I tried to walk quietly in the wet slush along the south edge of the fairway, very close to the houses that border it, while staying out of sight of my quarry. Inside the houses, people watched television in their living rooms, completely oblivious to the wildlife drama taking place right outside.
After following the three coyotes for half a mile, I suddenly saw four canine figures running back and forth on the fairway and realized that the two lead animals had been chasing a member of their own group. In the midst of this nasty winter storm, these four animals were all wagging their tails and appeared to be playing and having a great time chasing one another around.
I was amazed to watch these creatures frolicking so freely seemingly unaware of the harsh weather. The wind was in my favor, so none of my subjects noticed me standing at the edge of fairway; they were too intent on releasing excess energy. After their game of tag, they casually trotted off together into the darkness. Watching the animals dashing about for those few minutes, displaying such exuberance, it was easy to think that they were just excited to be alive.
I tucked the receiver into my waterproof jacket to protect it from the elements and continued to follow the animals’ 3-inch long tracks. They led me down a slushy neighborhood street, then onto another dirt trail covered with more fresh tracks. Concerned that I might lose them, I started jogging, but after 150 meters, I stopped short. I was suddenly only 12 feet away from them!
I could see that the largest animal was wearing a radio-collar. Another sensed me and trotted out of sight and the collared animal followed. The remaining two animals paused, then decided to investigate. Each went into the edge of the woods and I stood there and watched them as they silently passed within eight feet of me. When they got downwind behind me, they walked out onto the trail and sniffed the air. It was then that they realized I was a human and they wanted nothing to do with me. They retreated into the woods and quietly but swiftly all four hightailed it out of sight.
I trudged the mile back to my truck, drenched and nearly frozen to death. After I started the engine and turned the heat on, the first thing I recorded in my notebook, with very numb fingers, was: "Wow, what a night!"
