In the winter of 1999-2000 I was visiting my friend, Jack, in Arizona, my motorhome parked in his back yard. One morning, while I was walking to Jack's shop, where I had my computer set up and was working on my coyote pages, I looked in the chicken pen and saw a coyote streaking across the pen, chicken in mouth. The coyote easily cleared the 4' high fence and disappeared across the adjoining vacant lot.
I told Jack about the incident. As a seasoned coyote hunter, Jack's response was, "Well, I don't grudge a coyote a chicken. I've hunted coyotes and I have a lot of respect for them. They don't kill wontonly like the dogs do. They hunt to eat. I like a chicken dinner myself sometimes. I just wish he'd taken one that wasn't a layer."
This response surprised me as Jack considers his chickens pets more than livestock. We looked for tracks in the pen and tried to envision the intelligent and clevery coyote stalking the unwary chicken.
A few mornings later, I made the same walk. I looked in the pen again. There was no stalk of the chicken by the wiley coyote. There, in the middle of the pen, stood Coyote, looking at the chickens gathered around him in a circle staring dumbly. It looked like the stories of coyote talking a chicken into coming with him. I stopped, fascinated, to watch the action unfold. Coyote saw me and was gone.