The coyote came down from Crescent City. It wasn’t by the ordinary means. No, the coyote wasn’t even that old, just a kid really, but a big kid, an orphan though, you could say. At least he couldn’t say if his parents were alive or dead. He hadn’t seen them lately – it’d been over two months. His eyes were barely open the last time he saw them.
His life was a mystery. And then he went inside, if that’s what you call it. He was in someone’s hands and then he was inside. And then there was a dog to talk to and the dog was not very smart even though he was a lot older. The dog knew a few words and how to pee outdoors. The coyote pup didn’t mind having a pet dog.
It took about eight weeks before the inside was only a memory. Before the hands that held him vanished. Before his pet dog was left behind.
On June 15th a couple pulled into the driveway at Humboldt Wildlife Care Center with a coyote pup in their vehicle. They said they’d gotten him in April from a “homeless guy” in Crescent City. They took him home. They gave him food. They introduced him to their pet dog. They said they thought he was a dog, too. After 8 weeks they knew, this was no mere dog, this was a coyote.
HWCC assistant manager, Lucinda Adamson, had to convince the two that we had many options for this pup to facilitate his rehabilitation and release, even though he’d been with them for two months. They were hesitant to turn him over to us out of fear that he would be immediately euthanized due to habituation.
To be fair, habituation to people can be an insurmountable problem for some wild orphans. And a coyote who has been so wounded psychically that they can’t be released, just as with those who suffer severe physical wounds, euthanasia remains the most humane option – certainly more humane than a life in captivity, destiny denied.
After a physical examination in which we found no problems at all – the youngster was in good body condition, and overall excellent health – we moved him to outdoor housing where we could begin to learn more about his mental state. A first test for him was dietary. Would he eat food that any coyote in the wild would eat. We gave him thawed rats, a pigeon who had been euthanized for an untreatable wing injury, some eggs, and some berries. He devoured it all.
Feeding him, cleaning his housing, doing routine health checks gave us plenty of opportunity to assess his mental state and the level of habituation to people that he suffered. Consistently he showed fear of us, and as his stay lengthened his alarm when we were near only got worse. So we visited less often. After a week in care it was time for a live prey test. Any orphaned predator who we have in care must pass a live prey test. Young wild things have to be able to feed themselves after release, after all.
We offered him a live rat from the pet store who’d been raised and sold as a “feeder” for people who have pets, such as some snakes, who require live food.
At first he didnt know what to make of the rat. We were worried at first that their relationship was less predator/prey than awkward roommates but after a couple of days, the rat was gone. There was only way out of there: through the coyote’s GI tract and out the door as coyote poop, except for the parts of the rat that became coyote – and as coyote of course was another way out the door for the rat.
After two weeks in care, he had demonstrated that he could hunt, he was big enough to be on his own, he distrusted people and he was in good health. This is the same criteria any coyote pup would have to meet for release. Soon he’d be out of all confinement, ready for the big wild world at last.
Being a part of this coyote’s journey home to wild freedom was a joy, – the result of necessity and luck joining forces to help. Without the good fortune of this excellent release site, close to his presumed birth place yet remote from human traffic, and without the need to help – driven by our own ethics and the ethics of our profession – this coyote would likely have never found freedom.
And none of this would have been possible without your support. This year is taxing our resources like never before. We strive daily to do the best work we can. Without your generous contributions we will not exist. Please help us during the most trying time of our year. I understand that economic uncertainty and high prices are ruling the day – these things rule our day too … goat milk is up nearly 25% this year, as one example among many. It hurts. The gas to Crescent City and back is not negligible. Our staff is necessary. Cutting back staff means cutting back care. You are necessary. You make it happen.
Thank you for keeping us afloat. It means the world to us. It means the real world to our patients.
photos: Laura Corsiglia/bird ally x
