Walden: Local Wildlife

Eight degrees. It's 8. Windchill, and there's not much wind, is -3. Which, is not as could as it could be, or is in other parts. If I put my head outside, my nose hairs get crisp. That a sensation not had often in D. Morning coffee is a roasty 100 or so. Sip, sip. Warm. Stare blankly at pond, completely frozen, with basketball moored in the middle-ish. Movement. Coyote. A lone coyote comes loping down the hill, out from under the pine trees, across the pond, around my yard, and off over another hill, where I hear the neighbor's dogs bark in a most unfriendly way. Wonder. And then sadness. That coyote shouldnot be alone, and it shouldn't be so close to humans, their pets, and children. That's not what they prefer to do. It's been cold for a long time, and I would imagine the hunting is a bit thin just now. It was moving pretty quickly, not interested in border contests with the locals. Hungry, but not totally desperate, not yet. Poor critter.