For those who say you can’t live in a metro area because you’d miss “the wildlife,” listen to this tale of coyotes who routinely sing the song of their people beneath my bedroom window.
Technically, they are in my neighbor’s yard, but still they hoot and holler and there are babies, I can tell on account of the yelping pups who sound quite adorable trying to mimic their parents.
Luckily, we’ve been keeping Winnie and Duke with us at night by way of a gate at the top of the stairs, otherwise all hell might break loose when they go charging through the doggy door at 3 am only to be met with a pack of “real dogs” who know how to hold their own.
It’s possible this is an Atlanta-metro problem, on account of the lush green spaces (such pretty cities we have!) but the real problem of course is destruction of habitats, which in turn forces them to move closer to us for tasty food like cats. Best to put Mr. Whiskers on a leash, friends.
Like usual, my neighbors on NextDoor are all up in a tizzy about the coyotes because my neighbors on NextDoor are all up in a tizzy about everything, everywhere, all at once.
“We have to trap and kill them!”
“They will eat Fluffer Butt!”
“This is so scary, why won’t the city do something?!”
At this point I’ve rolled my eyes so far back in my head they are stuck. My mom was right.
I sympathize with people, I do, but also, like, umm, they are wild animals. Their homes have been destroyed most recently for the development of a subdivision promising 63 “moderately priced” homes “starting in the mid-800s!” in which you can, “Customize!”
I don’t get the housing market.
Don’t get me wrong, the houses are beautiful. I wish I could afford a million dollar house, but alas when I asked the bank if I could get a $5 million dollar loan, my customizations would include a helipad, a bowling alley, and a working Dunkin’ Donuts, they asked me for a paycheck stub to which I said, “Oh, I do a lot of things, but none of them pay actual money.” Then I stole a pen and ran away. #YourPensSuckWellsFargo
The coyotes however, are rightful owners of the land but without an appropriate FICO score they are forced to walk the streets at night, running in and out of backyards and terrorizing people so much they are forced to stuff pennies in a can and shake them from their porches. The people, not the coyotes.
Pennies. In. A. Can. #WholeNewTakeOnPennyCan
Someone also uses pots and pans, but don’t worry the “Coyote Authorities” told them it was safe.
Listen, I don’t have any real solutions here. I’m not a “Coyote Authority,” but I am watching that Nat Geo docuseries on Pablo Escobar’s hippos, so I AM an authority of invasive hippopotamuses taking over South American lakes and rivers. Maybe cocaine is the answer in some way?
I also know that this problem isn’t going away and that trapping and killing them is not a viable solution. What I don’t get is what the people want the city to do. Write them a citation? That’s sure to stop them in their tracks. No coyote wants to get caught up in a lengthy and expensive civil case that lasts for years. Or would it be criminal on account of the trespassing? I need legal advice.
All I’m saying is, I wish we had an unruly pack of alpacas rather than coyotes, but this is the hand we’ve been dealt. And I don’t know what the answer is, but can we please just stop with the pennies and start with keeping our domesticated animals inside at night. Or maybe I’m just saying this is a fact of city life and we should just suck it up and stop all the bitching?
Yeah, I think it’s the last thing.
Melissa Goodnight 