Thanks for this link. I enjoyed reading her story. It reminded me of my own time spent in canyon country of the western US where pictographs and petroglyphs were commonly found deep in the most sheltered locations and a random walk across the landscape would turn into a discovery of a building that had been constructed 100's of years earlier by people who understood how to blend their structures into the landscape. In many, their handprints were still bold on the bricks and in the mortar as if they had only recently walked out for a smoke or a jug of milk.
One time as I walked a wooded area the archaeologists had flagged as having archaeological value due to artifacts or other signs of precolonial occupation, I felt a stillness take hold and silently settle over the bowl I was traversing. I could faintly see motion in my peripheral vision as I walked among the juniper and oaks. Strangely enough, the winds that usually swept up out of the canyon a hundred yards in front of me were absent though it was hot down there and the thermals were normally aggressively carrying that heat from the Green River below up and out of the canyons, upslope to the La Sals a few miles distant where, on a good day you could watch the clouds form and break away to trigger a flash flood somewhere downwind in canyon country.
I played cat and mouse with the thing that was shadowing me about 25 yards distant. Stealing quick glances by slightly turning my eyes as I walked without ever looking directly at it I determined that it was a coyote. I didn't sense any danger from it, it felt more like curiousity so as I walked behind a large boulder between us I ducked and instead of doing the predictable thing and walking out the other side, I circled around behind it to a large juniper growing at the base and while crouching, I watched the coyote. It was there about 20 yards away and it had not seen me at the juniper. For a moment it stood but then it cocked its head as if trying to understand why I hadn't appeared on the other side of the boulder. Then it started to approach the boulder, moving slowly and still surrounded by the surreal silence that had enveloped the boulder-strewn bowl we were in that constituted the archaeological site.
It approached the boulder slowly and deliberately, every foot placed carefully with all its attention focused on the far side of the boulder. I slowly moved along the ground to the outside edge of the juniper. I was at this point only about 10 yards from the coyote, easy rock-chunking distance, and I rose from my spot until I was standing. While rising, the coyote saw the motion and as it turned its head to identify the source I could see its eyes widen and it became intensely focused on me. I stood still in my best non-confrontational posture and we stared at each other for a minute. I had tricked the trickster.
As he stared during that long minute, the coyote cocked his head back and forth and finally decided that he understood whatever he had been curious about. He slowly turned around and began to walk back along the track he had followed, this time stopping and looking back at intervals. I guess he needed to make sure that I was not following. Maybe he wanted me to follow. I'll never know. After 50 yards or so he melted back into the vegetation and was gone from my sight.
I was carrying a 110 camera with me that day and as he walked off weaving around boulders and junipers I snapped a couple of photos. Anyone who has ever tried to document something important with a 110 camera will understand the frustration that I felt when the developed photos came back and all I had of the encounter were memories related here today and a couple of photos with a grainy, grey-tan blob near a grainy juniper.
Interestingly enough at the time, and maybe even today, as that coyote wandered away satisfied that I was not important enough for it to waste any more time stalking, the hot winds picked up from the canyon floor and I could once again hear dry leaves rustling as the breeze carried the scent of juniper from the valley floor below. I walked to the rim of the canyon and took in the view - magnificent stratified red and tan sandstones, shales and limestone outcrops with a thin thread of river far below. Though I took the same path back to the truck I didn't see any other sign of coyote.
https://archive.ph/aF2L3
Thanks for this link. I enjoyed reading her story. It reminded me of my own time spent in canyon country of the western US where pictographs and petroglyphs were commonly found deep in the most sheltered locations and a random walk across the landscape would turn into a discovery of a building that had been constructed 100's of years earlier by people who understood how to blend their structures into the landscape. In many, their handprints were still bold on the bricks and in the mortar as if they had only recently walked out for a smoke or a jug of milk.
One time as I walked a wooded area the archaeologists had flagged as having archaeological value due to artifacts or other signs of precolonial occupation, I felt a stillness take hold and silently settle over the bowl I was traversing. I could faintly see motion in my peripheral vision as I walked among the juniper and oaks. Strangely enough, the winds that usually swept up out of the canyon a hundred yards in front of me were absent though it was hot down there and the thermals were normally aggressively carrying that heat from the Green River below up and out of the canyons, upslope to the La Sals a few miles distant where, on a good day you could watch the clouds form and break away to trigger a flash flood somewhere downwind in canyon country.
I played cat and mouse with the thing that was shadowing me about 25 yards distant. Stealing quick glances by slightly turning my eyes as I walked without ever looking directly at it I determined that it was a coyote. I didn't sense any danger from it, it felt more like curiousity so as I walked behind a large boulder between us I ducked and instead of doing the predictable thing and walking out the other side, I circled around behind it to a large juniper growing at the base and while crouching, I watched the coyote. It was there about 20 yards away and it had not seen me at the juniper. For a moment it stood but then it cocked its head as if trying to understand why I hadn't appeared on the other side of the boulder. Then it started to approach the boulder, moving slowly and still surrounded by the surreal silence that had enveloped the boulder-strewn bowl we were in that constituted the archaeological site.
It approached the boulder slowly and deliberately, every foot placed carefully with all its attention focused on the far side of the boulder. I slowly moved along the ground to the outside edge of the juniper. I was at this point only about 10 yards from the coyote, easy rock-chunking distance, and I rose from my spot until I was standing. While rising, the coyote saw the motion and as it turned its head to identify the source I could see its eyes widen and it became intensely focused on me. I stood still in my best non-confrontational posture and we stared at each other for a minute. I had tricked the trickster.
As he stared during that long minute, the coyote cocked his head back and forth and finally decided that he understood whatever he had been curious about. He slowly turned around and began to walk back along the track he had followed, this time stopping and looking back at intervals. I guess he needed to make sure that I was not following. Maybe he wanted me to follow. I'll never know. After 50 yards or so he melted back into the vegetation and was gone from my sight.
I was carrying a 110 camera with me that day and as he walked off weaving around boulders and junipers I snapped a couple of photos. Anyone who has ever tried to document something important with a 110 camera will understand the frustration that I felt when the developed photos came back and all I had of the encounter were memories related here today and a couple of photos with a grainy, grey-tan blob near a grainy juniper.
Interestingly enough at the time, and maybe even today, as that coyote wandered away satisfied that I was not important enough for it to waste any more time stalking, the hot winds picked up from the canyon floor and I could once again hear dry leaves rustling as the breeze carried the scent of juniper from the valley floor below. I walked to the rim of the canyon and took in the view - magnificent stratified red and tan sandstones, shales and limestone outcrops with a thin thread of river far below. Though I took the same path back to the truck I didn't see any other sign of coyote.
That's all I have for you today.
I want more — of your writing. Where can I find it?