2412_0421 Coyote
Can we ever get enough? I have thousands of Coyote shots, but every sighting is different. I saw this coyote from a hundred yards away, hesitating at the side of the road. I stopped. It took a long look, then crossed, trotting across a short stretch of upland prairie before disappearing into a gully. And I thought, "Maybe I can follow him - he won't expect that!"
And so I trotted toward the edge, angling to intercept him based on where I thought he might go next. I know the terrain here. The many small gullies all lead to a large, flat-bottomed coulee, the entire landscape cut by ten thousand years of meltwater and wind, with only animal trails to show you the best route to take.
Sometimes I guess wrong, but this time I guessed right. The white-and-blue slopes, cloaked in thin snow and the heavy stillness of winter, were suddenly broken by a moving brown form directly in front of me. As I raised my camera, the coyote turned to look back. It didn't break stride. It didn't panic. Kept on moving, purposefully, You can see one back leg in the photo, lifted, and imagine the diagonally opposite front leg, also lifted. All fluid motion, and the glance back at me was only that - a fleeting look, probably tinged with surprise, but nothing more. It did not break stride. The four-legged ones can cover ground faster than us bipeds, and without another thought it bounded upslope and disappeared into the vastness.
Now, there have been past encounters where a coyote has walked right up to me - seriously - I don't make this stuff up. But I'm happy to take what is offered, even if it's just a brief glance in my direction. I accept it as a gift, albeit unintentional. Off he went, and I turned back. Sometimes a single photo is enough.
The winter wildlife series continues tomorrow...
Photographed in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2024 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
2412_0421 Coyote
Can we ever get enough? I have thousands of Coyote shots, but every sighting is different. I saw this coyote from a hundred yards away, hesitating at the side of the road. I stopped. It took a long look, then crossed, trotting across a short stretch of upland prairie before disappearing into a gully. And I thought, "Maybe I can follow him - he won't expect that!"
And so I trotted toward the edge, angling to intercept him based on where I thought he might go next. I know the terrain here. The many small gullies all lead to a large, flat-bottomed coulee, the entire landscape cut by ten thousand years of meltwater and wind, with only animal trails to show you the best route to take.
Sometimes I guess wrong, but this time I guessed right. The white-and-blue slopes, cloaked in thin snow and the heavy stillness of winter, were suddenly broken by a moving brown form directly in front of me. As I raised my camera, the coyote turned to look back. It didn't break stride. It didn't panic. Kept on moving, purposefully, You can see one back leg in the photo, lifted, and imagine the diagonally opposite front leg, also lifted. All fluid motion, and the glance back at me was only that - a fleeting look, probably tinged with surprise, but nothing more. It did not break stride. The four-legged ones can cover ground faster than us bipeds, and without another thought it bounded upslope and disappeared into the vastness.
Now, there have been past encounters where a coyote has walked right up to me - seriously - I don't make this stuff up. But I'm happy to take what is offered, even if it's just a brief glance in my direction. I accept it as a gift, albeit unintentional. Off he went, and I turned back. Sometimes a single photo is enough.
The winter wildlife series continues tomorrow...
Photographed in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2024 James R. Page - all rights reserved.