Freight Train + Coyotes

It’s just after 5:30 in the morning, and the weekday freight train is coming.

Even before the whistle blows I hear metal wheels turning across track. Then—right after the whistle fades away—coyotes begin to answer.

At this time of the year, when most leaves have come down and no longer cushion sounds, it all seems very close. The sun rising over the lake. The train running east to west. The coyotes.

How many coyotes are there? Certainly more than three. Or four. A pack? A den? A family?

And why do they answer the train’s whistle? What instinct ignites their desire to call out—connect— respond?

Coyotes are not native to Ohio, but they have adapted and seem to be thriving nearby. I’ve only seen one coyote—medium-sized dog but somehow rougher and unmistakable for the wild animal that it is. They live on the other side of our lake—beyond the Towpath Trail—near the Cuyahoga River. Their presence does not trouble me; rather, I am fascinated by their barking and have tried several times to record them.

Alas...no recording adequately captures the strangeness of the train whistle, followed by the barking, howling voices that are either answering that clarion call—or are challenging it to a territorial fight.

For reference, I must re-read Barbara Kingsolver’s wonderful novel Prodigal Summer (Harper Collins, 2000), which (as one of three interweaving stories) features a den of coyotes...