COYOTE

     "You say he's a coyote, but I've seen him. He's a man, a two-legged, just like you and me."

     "That's true, yet he is a coyote, a true coyote. Let me tell you his story."


     Once, a long time ago, he was alone, camped in the desert. After his simple meal, he sat by his small fire and smoked. At that moment, Coyote appeared, several feet away from the fire, almost hidden in the darkness of the night that surrounded the man.

     The man understood. He knew what Coyote wanted. He would walk with him. He stood up slowly. Coyote understood. Together they walked into the darkness that surrounded the fire.

     The man found that he could see by the stars, now that his eyes weren't affected by the fire's light. He could easily follow Coyote. When Coyote would stop, for one reason or another, the man would stop too. When Coyote would walk again, he would follow.

     They walked for miles out into the mystery that had previously surrounded the man's reality. The man never once thought of his camp, of how he would return. He never thought of returning. He followed.

     Finally, after a long while Coyote stopped and then sat. He faced the man. The man understood this too. He also stopped and sat. He pulled out his pipe, filled it with mystery, and smoked, inhaling deeply. Then he handed it to Coyote - after all, he had smoked with a spirit once, earlier in his life.

      After this shared smoke, the man and Coyote continued their midnight ramble. Actually, they were both coyotes now, although the man didn't know it at this point. This he would come to know soon.

     When Coyote smelled the hare, the man did too. "That's strange, I've never smelled like this before." When Coyote began to run, following the hare's trail, the man ran easily beside him, eager for the hunt. When Coyote leaped for the hare, the man did too. It would have been difficult to have known - if they had cared - who had actually brought down the poor creature.

     The man began to wonder what had happened. He looked at himself, as well he could in the darkness and without a mirror. He still looked like a two-legged. He still stood upright. Yet, at the same time, he felt profoundly different. He was a coyote himself. He realized this now.

     After eating their fill, the two laid down and slept on the sands. They slept close to one another for the warmth - and perhaps for more.

     In the morning, early before the sun appeared, the man woke and saw that Coyote was gone. He knew that he would never see Coyote again. But he was a coyote himself now. He would live in this mystery.


     "But what happened? He still comes into town. Whenever he's here, he lives in a house. He even drives a car. What has changed? In what way has he become a coyote? What does it all mean?"

     "He is a coyote, not just a man behaving like one. I have been in the wilds with him. He only takes salt, in a bag around his neck, and a knife. He says that when he tries to grow out his coyote claws, they stay fingernails and break easily. In the wilds, he seems aware of everything that is going on. He eats well. He eats his kills raw. 'Although it's an acquired taste,' he says."

     "But then something happened that finally convinced me that he really was a coyote. It happened one evening, when he and I were sitting quietly in the deep woods listening to the sounds of the world. A group of coyotes were singing into the darkness that evening. When he joined in, it was astounding in itself. But what finally convinced me was when he sang to them, telling them I was a coyote friend - a great honor for me! Soon the entire pack, perhaps several or more packs even, had all gathered about us, and together we all sang the most beautiful song."

     By Eugene Marks