Consider the Coywolf

Around 9:30 pm after the last snow before the New Year, my dog almost jumped through the window. My family wondered what riled him. Probably coyotes, I said. My sister tiptoed to the window and confirmed I was right. We flicked off all the lights and pressed our noses to the cold glass, leaving round prints in the fog of our exhalation. We scanned the woods. A waxing moon above the bright abundance of snow made their silhouettes clear: a handful of coyotes, ambling east. 

From that night on, the search for coyotes became routine. The dog and I would sit…

Source: Consider the Coywolf