Coyotes at Christmas - December 25, 2007

"The strength of the wolf is in the pack." - Rudyard Kipling

"And the strength of the coyote is in the cocoa." - Daktari Mark

Calling the Coyotes for Christmas – December 25, 2007

It’s been a typical Jewish Christmas in Amesbury. The Powow River is frozen solid and the hills snow-covered. Rena and I go skating on the river in the morning and then off to see Juno, the movie, with our friends Carol and Katie. Very good flick! Afterwards we try a new Chinese restaurant in Topsfield. We have the restaurant all to ourselves! There aren’t many Jews in Topsfield, it seems.

Back at home Rena settles in with her crocheting to watch the Country Music Channel. “Where’s the adventure in that?” I think to myself. The nearly full moon rises over the white fields and sparkles off Lake Gardner. “Ah,” I think. “The Call of the Wild.”

I phone my good neighbor, Bruce. “Looks like a good night for an adventure. What do you think?”

“I’m way cool with that,” says Bruce. “Whazzup?”
(Bruce works from home. Too much jazz on the internet has affected his speech.)

I explain to Bruce that I was at the Whistling Kettle yesterday and Dean the pool guy was there. He was taking a break from snow-plowing. The breakfast conversation turned to coyotes. Dean claims the best way to find coyotes is to go out in the boonies and set off your car alarm for one minute. When you shut it off, all the coyotes for miles around will be howling. Then drive to where you think they are and repeat the process as necessary until you locate the pack.

“Count me in,” says Bruce.

We assemble at Bruce’s house. Bruce, Bruce’s son Luke and myself with the two dogs Panna and Brixton and our respective collections of coyote gear. I carry the binoculars and wear the official decoy hat. Bruce has a stout cudgel, rope, flashlight and camera. Luke thinks we are way over the top and settles for dog leashes and a Petzl with red filter for night vision. We are ready for whole packs of coyotes. If this were Transylvania, we could probably even take on werewolves or charge Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory. But that, as they say, is another story.

We get in Bruce’s 4-WD Cherokee (the only vehicle with an alarm) and head out. Our ears are pricked and our tails (for those who have them) are wagging. As we head east on S. Hampton Road we pass a darkened cruiser parked at Syvinski’s farm, trolling for speeders and scoff-laws. Collectively we entertain the same thought at the same time: If coyotes can hear the car alarm, then so can Officer Krupke!
”What would you call our crime exactly,” asks Bruce.
“How about disturbing the peace on Christmas night,” I opine.
“Groovy,” says Bruce. On the way to Battis farm we rehearse our cover story:
“OK, when I went to unlock the car I pushed the panic button by mistake and the keys fell in the snow. We all had to hunt through the snow to find the keys,” says Bruce.
“Groovy,” I reply.
“Incidently, Mark, you should ditch the wolf hat, if we see the cruiser,” says Luke.
“Even Officer Krupke might tumble to that one!” I agree.

We stop the car and get out. Clear and cold with no wind at all and not another car in sight.
“Plunk your magic twanger, froggy.” Boiing-oing-oing.
Bruce presses the panic button for as long as he dares. In the dead silence that follows, we hear nary a coyote. We try again with a longer blast of the alarm.

“Maybe, it’s the wrong type of alarm,” I say. “Let’s go see if Officer Krupke will let us use his siren.”
I am outvoted 2 to 1. It would be better, we decide, to beard the wild coyote in her den.

We start hiking up Po Hill – at 331 feet above sea-level it’s the tallest hill in Amesbury. We tramp through the packed snow to the top. What a marvelous panorama – the great sweep of Atlantic shore from Cape Ann in the South to Mt. Agamenticus in the North. 'All is calm, all is bright.' Not one coyote yip intrudes on our silent night The stars in the sky look down where we lay, resting for the return tramp through the woods. The moon, herself, lights our way back to Bruce’s for a Rob Roy. Exertion and alcohol commingle nicely. Peaceful and pooped after a long day, I too will be soon be 'away in the manger asleep in the hay'. Peace on earth, goodwill to men -- and good night Officer Krupke, wherever you are!