CONFESSIONS OF A HIGH FLIER

¶“If you fly high enough, you won’t get shot!” That is what I would tell any goose that doesn’t want to have a platter as its final resting place. Waiting below on the ground are seductive, deceitful, and vicious hunters ready use every conceivable trick to bring that goose down to within range of his trusty gun.

¶I am a novice goose hunter, but addicted. There is a tremendous feeling of awe when you find yourself in a pit, hidden in a pile of thistles or behind a stack of bales at sun-up watching the skies for geese on a cold, wintry, morning. Every nerve is poised for action. Your ears strain to pick up the honk of approaching geese. Once heard, your eyes rake the skies in the direction from which the honking came. In the pit you peak through a small hole in the cover. Sometimes the hole is camouflaged with grass, corn stalks, reeds, or whatever vegetation is near the pit. In one pit that I was in there was a goose decoy sitting on the lid. You could poke your head up inside the decoy to check the horizon. There is the adrenalin rush as you watch the geese approach and wait for them to come close enough for a good shot. Then you throw back the lid and start shooting.

¶Although I heartily enjoy hunting geese, I often find myself identifying with the high-flying goose which the hunter wants to bring down. If I were the goose, I would try to fly above all his devious trickery which would bring me down. But, it is impossible to avoid the storms and the enticements from below. At times I am aware of flying low within range of disaster. Somehow I escape. At other times I soar high above the hunter’s gun with no fear and no attention to his decoys and calls. I have learned a few things about hunting geese. I have also learned a few lessons when I identify with the goose.

¶There are many variations in the way geese are hunted. A pit can be stocked with many conveniences such as a stove for cooking, heaters, communication links with nearby pits, and comfortable seats for the hunter. Outside the pit a host of decoys are placed to coax the geese into shotgun range. Sometimes flags are used to attract their attention. Goose calls can be blown to divert the geese towards the pit.

¶Decoys resembling geese feeding, resting, being on the watch and even flying seduce the quarry into killing range. Sometimes the decoy is a giant replica of a goose and sometimes just a silhouette. Since there are many kinds of geese, decoys depicting the particular kind that is being hunted can be mixed with other kinds and even duck decoys to present a more realistic setting to the high flying geese. Even the arrangement of the decoys into groupings to look like families of geese and the direction the decoys face according to the wind are tricks the hunter uses to bring down the goose. Be assured that however realistic it may look to geese, it is a false presentation designed for their destruction.

¶Some hunters use a flag to resemble a goose flying near the decoys. It has developed from a rag to sophisticated impressions of a body with wings flopping in the air. It is extended from a stick or a fly rod depending upon the intent of the hunter. The longer fly rod can be used when the geese are far away and the action needs to be more exaggerated to get their attention. The shorter stick can be used as the geese near the hidden hunters. The shorter stick can even be held in front of the hunter to veil his presence to the incoming flock.

¶Decoys and a goose call are not necessary to bring down a goose. Sometimes geese just fly low enough to be within range of the hunter’s gun. The hunter simply waits in hiding along a fence line, behind a hay bale pile, in some brush or weeds, wherever there is enough cover to camouflage his presence. This method is called pass shooting. It is best used near the feeding and resting areas of geese. The closer the better. As the geese rise to fly they begin ascending higher and higher the farther they fly until they are out of reach for the hunter and his gun. When a hunter positions himself near the take-off or landing area of the geese, he can take advantage of their low altitude. It is then up to him to be “on-target.”

¶An ancient writer said about the wicked man who hunts the weak, “He lies in wait near the villages (resting and feeding areas); from ambush he murders the innocent, watching in secret for his victims. He lies in wait to catch the helpless; he catches the helpless and drags them off in his net. His victims are crushed, they collapse; they fall under his strength.” 1 “He” is my enemy, the hunter who wishes to destroy me and, I am the hunted. So I can identify with the high flying goose.
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¶“I know what is out there. I know that many desire to bring me down, to destroy me. I don’t want to fly alone but it is time that we go. Will you go with me?”

¶We begin leaving for the feeding area in small bunches. These are usually family groupings. Normally small groups fly first followed by a large flock and then a trickling of more small groups. There is a distinct honking that foretells our departure. The male goose tosses his head up and down and makes a long, deep honking sound. The male typically stays until the female leads the way. The male follows behind and guards the rear.
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¶The hunter patiently waits. The distinct sound of honking geese about to take flight reaches his ears. Every nerve in his body is now on the alert. He listens intently for the direction and the nearness of the honking. He focuses his eyes in the direction of the sound. His hands are anxious to grip his gun. His arms are ready to raise the gun to his shoulder. It is a tense moment which sometimes lasts more than a few minutes. If he is using a call, his lips respond to the touch of the call. He searches for the right sound to lure the geese within range.
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¶I am the hunted. I lift-off from my sanctuary and reach for the sky with the others while we are still safe. On a good day we ascend high above the ground and watch for our adversary who would bring us down. We gain altitude as quickly as possible. Then we hustle towards our destination. As we approach we circle once, maybe twice or more, to search for predators and hunters who would destroy us. When we feel safe, we set our wings for the landing.

¶Other geese are in the area resting and feeding. The sound of friendly chatter reaches our ears. We feel safe and begin our descent. Some geese are hopping from one spot to another. We can relax and land.

¶Suddenly, there is a stir on the ground. But, the geese sitting there do not even notice. It is a trap. “Flee for your lives!” Each of us switch from a landing position to one of ascent and fly. The blast of the shotguns give a new urgency to “flee.” I watch as one, two, three of our group tumble to the ground. I must get out of here before it is me down there on the ground. I am the hunted. I cannot risk such a foolish mistake again.

¶Another day. The clouds hang low and the wind, cold and hard, blows into our faces. It is time to fly again. We dread the trip but we must make it. Lifting-off and gaining altitude is very difficult today. As we fly towards our destination it is a real effort just to stay in the air. Today it is difficult to fly high. But, we must fly. So we do at a very risky height. We must fight the wind to reach our sanctuary.
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¶I, the hunter, watch the geese struggling against the wind. I have days like that, as do others that I know. We feel overwhelmed with circumstances in life and struggle to survive. We are the boys without fathers, the girls trapped in the social justice system, the jobless and low skilled adults, the homeless and the orphan. We are the children from broken families, from alcoholic parents, from abusive situations, unloved and afraid. We are adults driven from our homes by war, poverty, and injustice. We are at risk. It is too difficult to fly high.

¶The hunter loves these kinds of days. The geese will be flying low and many will be within range. They will still be wary, but the oppressive weather will keep them low. They will be vulnerable. He waits in hiding to ambush the low flying geese. He may kill a few or many, maybe none at all. Today it depends more on his ability to be on target than to lure and deceive. If the geese must fly into the wind, they will be slower. If they fly with the wind at their tail, he must grant more distance leading his target. Mental calculations must become second nature or there will not be time to shoot.
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¶We labor into the wind. Our strong wings beat frantically to maintain altitude. We know we are at risk but are helpless to fly higher. Across the meadow we struggle. A power line marks the fence row below. We must have enough altitude to be above the wires. We push on. As we rise slightly above the wires, shotguns blast. This time none fall. Discouraged by the weather and frightened by the guns we circle back for safety of the refuge. We are moving much faster now but the wind still makes it difficult to rise higher. Again shotguns wage war against us. This time the noise seems to be coming from the willow brush. My mate loses altitude and glides to the ground, tumbling as she hits. We have been together for three years but there is no time for sentiment now. Our lives are at too much risk. We return to the safety of the refuge, hoping against the odds for better luck next time.

¶It is not unusual to see one of us die now. It happens nearly every day. We are tricked into landing among decoys. We are deceived by the sound of a lone goose begging us to land. We are suddenly surprised by gunshots while flying over what was friendly territory yesterday. Every day a few of our flock fail to return to safety. We don’t go down to encourage them. That is certain death for ourselves. We just keep struggling every day to fly high enough so as not to get shot, be smart enough not to be deceived, and lucky enough to be missed when we get too low. We have learned to be the hunted. It almost feels natural.

¶Tomorrow I will search for my mate. We would have been together for three years this Spring. When we first came together we knew it would be for a lifetime until death would part us. I fear that is what has happened. My lifetime mate went down yesterday. I will search for her and listen for her call but I fear she is no more.

¶Today the clouds have disappeared and the sun is bright on the new layer of snow. I must begin my search as soon as I have fed in the cornfield over there. The flock rises gently into the skies, makes a large circle and flies directly to the feeding area. I am with them now until I have satisfied my hunger. It is more difficult to find kernels of corn beneath the snow. If the cold weather and snow persists we will fly farther south in a few days. But today I must seek my mate.

¶The sun is at its zenith in the sky. It’s warm rays make me want to rest. My craw is full of corn. I am ready to begin my search. Flying high above the treetops I can see a vast area of snow-covered ground below. I will watch and call for my mate. My call is a long, low pitched cry which tails up towards the end. If my mate is down there, she will return my call. Then I will go down to be with her and encourage her to find the shelter of the refuge and the river. We may walk the whole distance if she is unable to fly.

¶My call is answered. However, it doesn’t quite sound like my mate. I will circle above the sound of the call and try to see if she is there. If I stay high, I will be able to search a large area in one swoop. I here the call again and swing in that direction. Below me is a flock of geese frozen, as it were, on the snow. This doesn’t look good. I call again. Again I hear a response. I am now directly over the flock on the ground and very suspicious. I call one more time. This time I’m answered by the noisy blast of shotguns. A few pellets of shot bounce off my feathers. I am too high to be hurt by their guns. I turn tail and flee for the refuge.

¶The weather continues to worsen. More snow covers the feeding areas and temperatures below zero are freezing river waters. Anxiety and hunger plague the flock. If we don’t leave soon they won’t have enough strength to make the trek south to warmer waters. One gander begins honking for departure. Soon all of them are begging to leave. Slowly the flock lifts from the ice and turns to the south.

¶As we gain altitude we maneuver into formation. Like a wedge we race through the skies. The leader breaks the way and each of us helps the other with the uplift of air from our wings. Elders cheer on youngsters. Youngsters encourage their seniors. The flock flies higher to find the altitude with least resistance. We will be able to fly 70% further if we conserve our energy by maintaining formation. I am flying near the lead goose. Soon it will be my turn to take the lead while he retreats to the rear to rest enjoying the uplifting currents from the rest of the flock. We are now well out of reach of the hunters gun. For now we are safe.
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¶Hunters love to watch the geese flying high to the south in the winter and return flying high back north to their nesting grounds. The long migratory route seems to be learned from the other geese in the flock. There’s something mystical in this annual event. Something that just lifts the soul and gives admiration to high flying geese.

¶I am glad that I am not a goose. I am a human being, a man. There is a great biological difference between geese and human beings. Their reason for existence and survival are not the same. Mankind is at the top. Geese are somewhere below. Mankind dominates the geese to use or abuse. Yet, there is another relationship similar to mankind and geese. That is the relationship of Satan and his cohorts to the man who would fly high.

¶“Lord, who may dwell in your sanctuary: Who may live on your holy hill? He whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous, who speaks the truth from his heart and has no slander on his tongue, who does his neighbor no wrong and casts no slur on his fellow man, who despises a vile man but honors those who fear the Lord, who keeps his oath even when it hurts, who lends his money without usury and does not accept a bribe against the innocent. He who does these things will never be shaken.” 2

¶Just as the hunter would try to bring down the high flying goose, so does Satan want to bring down “high flying” people who desire to please the God of all creation. The tactics of the goose become a lesson to the man who is also the hunted. “Flee like a bird to the mountain. For look, the wicked bend their bows; they set their arrow against the strings to shoot from the shadow at the upright in heart..” 3

¶There is the hunter and the hunted. The hunter will use seductive, devious, and vicious ways to bring the hunted into his possession. The hunted can identify with the goose. We can ignore the hunter and his gun and fly according to our hearts’ desires. Or, we can realize that we are the hunted , that we have adversaries, that we must fly beyond the reach of their guns.

¶Perhaps, I’m giving too much credit to a high-flying goose. I don’t know what goes through the avian brain, nor if they rationalize at all. If the response patterns of a goose results from God-given instinct, we can still learn that when you fly high enough, you may get shot at but never shot down!

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1. Psalm 10:8-10
2. Psalm 15:1-5
3. Psalm 11:2

PUBLIC ENEMY # 1: THE TRAP

¶If a coyote catches the scent of a steel trap, he will elude its jaws. Trappers often boil their traps in water, place their traps weeks before setting them, or prefer rusty traps to new ones in an effort to fool Mr. Coyote. Traps are carefully concealed in areas where Mr. & Mrs. Coyote regularly travel. In some cases, the traps are placed near a carcass. Sometimes special coyote appealing scents are placed on or near the trap. Every effort is made to fool Mr. & Mrs. Coyote and their offspring. Of course, if either Mr. or Mrs. Coyote get caught in the trap, that ends their romance.

¶Now Elmer Jr. had learned about these man traps from Elmer Sr. His father had a missing toe and a stump leg as a reminder of his narrow escape from the trap.

¶Elmer Sr. felt frisky in the cold wintry air on that fateful day. But his appetite had not been satisfied in days. It seemed like he had been hungry every day since the beginning of the winter. Snow had made traveling difficult and buried the customary meal of mice and moles like a gigantic, fluffy blanket. The hunger was beginning to feel normal. On this day the sun was brilliant. A slight southern breeze carried the scent of meat across the snow laden meadow.

¶He roused his mate. Together they loped toward the beckoning scent. Soon they saw the deer carcass. When they approached Elmer Sr. suddenly felt the pain of steel jaws biting hard on his front foot. Full of fear and pain he leaped with all his strength to free himself. But, the jaws were firm. He watched his mate retreat to safety. Now he became angry. He hated the man who set the trap. He hated the man who used the deer carcass to lure him into the trap. And above all, he hated himself for getting caught in the trap. Again and again he lunged only to be jerked back by the well-anchored chain attached to the trap. Exhausted he settled down to consider his fate. The toe gripped in the trap was getting numb. If he did not escape he would face the trapper’s gun. Fear was making him desperate to escape. He backed away from the anchored trap and set his hind legs. He pulled with all his strength. Suddenly, he was free and minus one toe. He rushed to join his mate.

¶He had another close call with death that Spring. His mate had dug a den and given birth to three pups. She was busy mothering them. Elmer Sr. must find food for himself. Then he would take his turn watching the young pups while their mother hunted.

¶He took a familiar trail to Gopher Flats where an abundance of mice, moles and young rabbits could be found. Quietly he moved through the tender grasses until the scent of a rabbit graced his nose. His eyes searched every clump of grass until he spotted his prey. Crouching close to the ground he eyed his meal. With a high bounding leap he mouthed the young rabbit. Then it happened! Pain suddenly shot through his whole body as the steel jaws from a forgotten trap clamped hard on his hind leg. He bolted for freedom, but to no avail. Instinctively, he began gnawing at the pain until he had chewed threw the leg bone and was free again. Two close calls with traps nearly separated him forever from his mate. It was so horrible that somehow he would prevent it from happening to his young family.

¶It was mid-November. Young Elmer watched his dad approach a tantalizing carcass. He slowly circled the carcass with his nose to the ground sniffing for any unusual scent left by man or trap. Usually he could smell a well-camouflaged trap. He also relied on his eyes to notice any unusual disturbance of the ground. His carefree roaming of the hills and hunting for food gave-way to caution and anxiety. That was how Elmer Jr. was taught to play and hunt.

¶Gerty, young Elmer’s mate, had never been taught or failed to learn about the traps. She liked to run the ridges, race to the spoils, and revel in the grasses. The wind in her face was the call of freedom.

¶Elmer Jr. loved her free spirit. He loved her reckless abandon. He loved his mate. They roamed the hills and meadows with Gerty leading and Elmer cautiously following. Her spirited frolicking brought Elmer a fear that their life together would come to a horrible end. He still had visions of his crippled dad.

¶It was January four years since Elmer had first mated with Gerty. January was normally the coldest month of the winter. However, Chinook winds warmed the countryside. Elmer and Gerty curled up in the dry grass near the top of a terrace overlooking Gopher Flats. Each was reminiscing. They had seen their young ones play, grow to adults and raise their own offspring. They remembered hard times and the good times. Finally, the warm sun lulled them to sleep.

¶A new scent drifted through the air. It was the scent of an invading coyote. Both Elmer and Gerty jumped to their feet with their noses to the wind. Elmer yawned, stretched and settled back into his warm bed in the grass. Gerty realized that this was a great opportunity for adventure. She yawned, stretched and loped into the wind eager to meet this new stranger.

¶Halfway across Gopher Flat she heard the cry of a wounded rabbit. Gerty stopped and listened. This invader must have caught a rabbit. His scent was coming from the wooded area bordering the meadow. So was the sound of the desperate rabbit. She trotted slowly toward the woods. The closer she came the slower her gait until she stopped within a few yards of the woods. The coyote scent beckoned her. She hesitated. There was no smell of a rabbit. Nevertheless, the thought of a new mate to replace slow and cautious Elmer urged her on.

¶Cupid’s arrow pierced her heart like a bullet. There in the chokecherry brush stood the finest specimen of a coyote she had ever seen. His white hair gleamed in the sunlight. He stood tall and broad at the shoulders. His tail hung over the grasses like a soft, white cloud. There was a daring gleam in his eyes that stirred her free spirit. This was not a cautious Elmer standing there. This was thrills and excitement, not fear and wariness. Elmer was history. She wanted Harry, handsome and intriguing.

¶A mouse squeaked and squeaked again. It couldn’t be far away. Handsome Harry twitched his ears to better locate the source. Quietly he eased through the brush and grass. Gerty hastened to join him. Together they sneaked upon the unsuspecting mouse. Something moved by the old tree stump directly in front of them. Alarmed, they both stopped in their tracks.

¶The hunter slowly raised his gun. His heart pounding in his chest. Every breath he took caused the sights to move off of his target, two coyotes momentarily standing about 20 yards away. A steady pull on the trigger and the hammer slammed like a gavel into the center of the cartridge. Suddenly the repercussions of the bullet speeding towards its target engulfed the countryside echoing back and forth through the hills.

¶Elmer sprang to his feet awaken by the piercing rifle shot. He ran a few feet and stopped looked and listened. A couple seconds was long enough. He carefully loped in the opposite direction from the sound of the gun.

¶That evening he crossed the fresh scent of Gerty. But, there was the odor of another coyote mixed with it. Anger overwhelmed him. He would find Gerty and her companion. He would get his revenge on him for stealing Gerty. Why had he slept so long and let Gerty run-off by herself? Maybe if he had gone with her this would not have happened. He raced along the trail which carried scent of the one he loved. He was mad at himself, mad at Gerty, and mad at the invader.

¶Ker-wham! Reality hit him. The chain securing the trap jerked him backwards while the steel jaws clenched his front leg. It throbbed with pain. Fear clouded his mind. He wanted to howl in protest but, who would listen? He was desperate. What could he do now?

¶“So this is what it is like to be caught in the divorce trap,” he said to himself. It would take someone bigger and stronger than himself to free him from the trap. If not, he would certainly be crippled the rest of his life. Even if freed from the trap, life would not return to “normal.”

¶Elmer sat awhile to consider his fate. The trap held his leg in a painful, unrelenting grip. There would be no escaping the trap. “How will I find food and water?” he asked himself. (There was nobody else to ask.) “What if, the man hunter comes with his gun? What will my friends think?” That question would soon be answered.

¶In the months of January and February coyotes roam far and wide in search of food and a mate. Some of Elmer’s friends and/or relatives soon discovered Elmer’s dilemma.

¶Joco was the first to arrive. He was a litter mate. He and Elmer had played in the grasses as pups. Later they learned together to perfect their parent’s hunting techniques. Occasionally, their paths had crossed while seeking food or a mate. Joco looked at the pathetic Elmer hopelessly trapped. Then he said, “Don’t worry, ol’ pal. This happens to lots of coyotes. They get over it!”

¶Next to appear was Priscilla. She was a flashy young coyote always looking for the opposite sex. When she spied Elmer sitting forlorn in the grasses, she catered up to him with a romantic look in her eye and said, “Find another mate! You will soon forget Gerty!” She wasn’t aware of the trap biting Elmer’s foot.

¶Then a veteran of many traps, ol’ Sarge, stumbled on to Elmer one day about sundown. He pulled up his chest and said, “Don’t worry, ol’ boy! This will soon be over. It doesn’t last long!” With that he limped away.

¶Elmer could hear his kind yipping greetings and gossip to one another up on Rabbit Ridge as darkness crept in. One of the voices was that of Gerty laughing with Handsome Harry. The pain in his heart suddenly was greater than the pain in his leg.

¶He wondered if she ever felt broken over their separation. “How could she write-off all their years together raising their pups, running the hills and avoiding pitfalls?” She had never gone hungry for long. The always found something to eat. Did she ever think of him? Would she eventually desert Harry like she left him?”

¶The next morning Elmer was awakened from his sporadic sleep by a mysterious clumping. It sounded somewhat like a man approaching. There was the two-toned crunch of a foot coming down heel first and then the toe. That was a man sound. It was followed by a soft thud like that of a large deer walking along the trail. But the scent was definitely that of a man.

¶Elmer crouched low trying to hide from the unwelcomed guest. He kept his eyes pealed in the direction of the approaching steps. Instinctively, he bolted away when the man’s eyes turned and stared at him. It was futile. The trap would not yield.

¶The man had a warm look in his eyes. Elmer could see now that this man was different. He had only one leg and a stump. It reminded him of his dad. The man didn’t carry a gun but instead he seemed to be propped up by two “sticks.”

¶The strange man came closer making calm, reassuring sounds. Elmer fought the steel jaws and the chain securing them to a deeply embedded stake. Then he bared his fangs and snarled while shivers of fear raced through his body. The man backed away, turned, and quietly retreated down the trail.

¶Once again Elmer tried to relax and wait out the long day. He had escaped death at the hands of the strange man, but the clutches of the trap brought anger, fear and despair to his heart. “What if the strange man returned with a gun?” Then he heard those haunting sounds. Ker-thud, thud! Ker-thud, thud! He was doomed.

¶However, this time the man brought fresh meat and water. He sat it down where poor Elmer could reach it. He again made reassuring sounds and tried to reach for the trap holding Elmer. But, Elmer snarled and tried to lunge at the man. This scene would be repeated daily for the next couple weeks. There was no way Elmer would allow the strange man to touch him.

¶Then one day things changed. When Elmer retreated to the end of his chain, he was suddenly free. It was over just like the ol’ veteran had said. He was free to run again. However, his freedom had made him a cripple for the rest of his life. A broken, rotting piece of his leg remained in the trap. What he had left of his leg would heal over and life would go on. He could find another mate and finish his years.

¶The strange man again left food and water for the crippled coyote. Elmer had grown accustom to his generosity and returned to it after the man had disappeared from sight. The man was kind, not like the others he had seen. He was crippled just like Elmer was now. He had learned to survive with the support of the two “sticks.” But, Elmer wondered, “Was he kind because he knew the suffering that Elmer was enduring? What if he had let the man reach the trap when he first tried, would he have lost his leg anyhow?”

¶The next night Elmer stumbled back to where he could see the trap. There near the trap was fresh meat and a pan of water. To a hungry, hurting coyote it was a stroke of luck. He knew he could trust the generosity of the strange man. But, he wasn’t going to let the other coyotes know it. He hobbled over to the pan of meat and gulped it down. A few laps of water and he was ready for the night’s excursions.

¶Priscilla, the young temptress, stretched, yawned and started trotting along Rabbit Ridge above Cherry creek. She hoped to find a companion for the night somewhere along the slow running stream. An abundance of rabbits lived in the brush and grasses along both banks of Cherry creek. It was a favorite hunting area for hungry coyotes throughout the year. Tonight Priscilla longed for more than a bunny. She would rather find a male, eager for a romp in the night, than a rabbit.

¶She found a male alright. And, he was eager for some companionship. He had been away from his kind too long. Tonight, it would really be nice for him to find a friendly female. After all, it was late February about the end of mating season. However, this poor ol’ dog wasn’t moving easily. It was Elmer, whom she had taunted a couple weeks ago. It seemed honorable to at least give him a fling. She noticed that he wasn’t very graceful on his feet. Priscilla, sauntered in front of Elmer, casting a sidelong glance back at him as she passed. Her long fluffy tail swung back and forth in the night air. Surely, he would notice her.

¶Elmer felt a tingling sensation as his heart beat quickened. That was Priscilla! The flashy young female who tormented him while in the trap. “Find another mate! You will soon forget Gerty!” How could he forget her words? He was broken over the loss of Gerty. Her words really hurt worse than the trap biting his leg. But, Gerty was out of the picture now. Maybe, she was baiting him with the “Find another mate!” line. She sure was attractive tonight and he was starved for love.

¶Elmer stumped along as fast as he could to catch up with flirtatious Priscilla. She lured him on by staying just a few feet ahead of him. He ran faster, as fast as his three legs could run. She circled ahead of him and suddenly they were nose to nose. Elmer could hardly control himself. The long run had really made blood flow feverishly threw his veins. When she stopped in front of him adrenalin unloaded. Here he was nose-to-nose with a glamorous young female. There noses touched as they began to explore each other. Then just as suddenly as she had stopped, Priscilla turned and gingerly trotted away.

¶Exhausted, Elmer sat on his haunches sucking long gasps of air. His tongue flopped back and forth with each breath. It wasn’t that he was physically out of shape. He was just flabbergasted and needed to collect his wits. It was so nice to have a little companionship after weeks alone in the trap and recovering from his lost leg. He must pursue.

¶Priscilla reached Rabbit Ridge above Cherry creek where she had begun her evening wanderings. A lonesome yip of another coyote pierced the silence. There it was again. She thought of Elmer. Would he follow her up the ridge? He didn’t run as fast as a normal coyote. Was something wrong with him? Her quick nose-to-nose investigation hadn’t detected anything wrong. Maybe she was too eager and had missed his problem. She decided to sit and wait a little while to see if he would come.

¶It was only a few minutes before Elmer came into view. She noticed that as he slowly trotted towards her that his head would dip at regular intervals. Something was wrong. But, what was it? Then she saw what it was. Every time his head dipped he was trying to put his weight on a foot that wasn’t there. He would catch himself with his other front foot. Now she could see that one front leg was much shorter than the other. Elmer had been in some kind of trouble. He had survived. However, it cost him dearly. Again the lonesome yip reached her ears. It was howling for attention and she was definitely interested.

¶Elmer had sat down to study the young princess wishing she would make a friendly advance again. The thought of the two of them loping together through the spring flowers looking for a den, a place to birth their pups, flashed through his mind. “That would be wonderful,” he said to himself. But, would she want to hook-up with a crippled ol’ dog when there were younger, more vigorous and exciting males out there like the one that had just cried pleadingly into the night air? He wasn’t really surprised when Priscilla stood, took one last look at him, and with determination loped away into the dark of the night.

¶Disappointed, Elmer sagged to the ground like he was shot. It had been a big rush finding her, watching her show her stuff, and then touching noses. He hadn’t expect her to be waiting for him when he topped the ridge. But, there she was! Now she was gone. Bewildered, Elmer drifted off to sleep while he made up stories with happy endings in his head.

¶Daylight came surprisingly early for Elmer. Last night’s escapades had exhausted him more than he realized at the time. His friend, hunger, was begging for attention. The only sure meal was down in the meadow where the stranger always left a tasty morsel. He stretched extending hind legs and then falling clumsily to the ground as he tried to step forward with his front legs. He was embarrassed to think that somebody may have seen him. Collecting himself he hobbled toward Gopher Flats.

¶It was later than usual when he arrived at the site where he had been trapped. It was so late that the crows had already arrived, tore-up the meat scraps, and eaten them. They scattered when Elmer approached only to fly above him, dive at him, and jeer him with their raucous cawing. “Caw, caw, ca-aaw!” they laughed at the forlorn, crippled coyote. They had bested him.

¶“Don’t worry, ol’ boy! This will soon be over. It doesn’t last long!” He remembered what Sarge had told him while in the trap. Somehow Sarge had recovered from his many injuries. Maybe there was hope.

¶Even Joco, his brother, thought that he would survive. What was it he said, “Don’t worry, ol’ pal. This happens to lots of coyotes. They get over it!” Elmer had hoped that Joco was both right and wrong. He wanted Joco to be wrong when he said that this happens to lots of coyotes. Why would any coyote justify the trap just because many coyotes had been caught in it and survived? It would be nice if Joco was right in reassuring him that he would get over it. Elmer wanted to be a survivor and get on with a normal life. However, he really doubted if it would ever be over. With that he limped away realizing that his recovery to a “normal” life was going to take a lot more time.

¶(Elmer’s story may have ended here. It does for many who have been trapped. A few have a different ending. Maybe like the one which follows.)

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¶Elmer soon found an inviting place to take a nap. He was exhausted from his failures and troubling thoughts. The tall grass concealed him while at the same time allowing the soothing warmth of the sun put him to sleep.

¶He heard the ker-thud thud, ker-thud thud of the strange man coming nearer and nearer. This time he didn’t run or try to escape. The man came closer and closer until he reached out and touched Elmer. He shuddered as he felt the gentle stoke of the man’s hand caress his head. Why didn’t he run? He didn’t know. The man seemed to say, “You can trust me, Elmer. I gave everything so I could help you. You have been hurt by the trap. I came to release you and make you well. But, you must trust me or I cannot help you.” The man reached out to stroke his head again.

¶Elmer bolted upright, startled, and then became disappointed. The strange man was not there, but he was so sure that he had felt his touch and heard his voice. How could he trust someone who was not there? He wanted to trust the strange man, but where did he go? Maybe he never was there. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Why would a man want to do anything for a poor ol’ crippled coyote? His experience with the man creatures had never been good. Traps, the loud thunder quickly followed by the sound of a bumble bee flying near his head, and man’s dogs made him doubt that this strange man really wanted to help him recover.

¶The late morning breeze aroused the dreary coyote. Where should he go? Where should he hide? Was it worth even trying? Elmer reluctantly began his journey with no destination in mind. He lifted his nose into the moving air. He recognized the smell of the strange man. There was really no where that he wanted to go. He would follow the scent of the strange man to wherever it led. This mysterious man suddenly held a new fascination for Elmer. He wanted to know all he could about him. He would even let him stroke his head, if he could find him. Yes, he would do his best to trust the crippled stranger to help him recover and live again. He would try to believe that this crippled man had been wounded for mistakes of others so that he could heal ol’ crippled coyotes.