Coyote Love

OK - so most of you won't have a clue about Coyote Love. This was a song by Joe Walsh (of the Eagles and one of the geekiest rock stars - he's even scientifically literate - he's a HAM operator - WB6ACU). Anyway, this is about my friend the coyote. A couple of days ago Amber, my golden retriever mix (pictured with Melvin, our old, overweight tabby) began barking strangely. Actually she doesn't bark that often and when she does there is something to bark at. It was dusk and I went to the window to see what was the matter (OK - Santa wasn't there). There, only a few feet from the window, was a coyote looking toward the house to see who was barking. I had plenty of time to get the camera, focus as best I could through the screen, and hold it as still as possible during the long exposure time (thus the blurry nature of the photo). I thought seriously about throwing out the bones from the left over barbecue ribs I had eaten that night but realized that could create serious problems especially if the coyote began to see Amber as a competitor for it's food. I remember seeing what, I thought at the time was a very large fox, leading my large lab (since passed on) in a slow trot. They were obviously familiar with each other and even friends. I now realize it was a small coyote, perhaps the same one. I hope it finds Amber to be just another friend, not a competitor. Last night I saw fresh prints in the snow where the coyote had been the previous night. Amber was "babysitting" our daughter's dog so wasn't home - I know my friend was back.

Herman Crabtree

I guess this is not an unusual occurrence but it was strange for me. We spent early January in Clearwater, Florida where I attended a conference (yes, I did go to the meetings) and we spent a couple of extra days. One of the first days we were there, I picked up a few shells. I put them in the floor of the back seat and left them. On our last full day there, about 4 days later, we went to a new (to us) beach and picked up a lot of shells which I packed into my favorite Fossil canvas purse (I hope it survived). When we got back to the hotel I picked up the few shells still in the back and put them in a plastic bag with trash in it.

In the hotel, while Kevin slept, I washed shells and sponges for the long trip home. After about an hour I needed a break. So that I wouldn't awaken K I sat in the floor with a Coke and chilled for a few minutes. In the quiet, I heard a noise. Yes, it was the Wal Mart bag in the bathroom. Well, I hadn't set it down particularly well and the bottles of pop were shifting. Nope, it was still moving. I opened it up and poured out the contents. Out came about half a dozen shells and some empty pop bottles. One shell would not come out. I grabbed it and began to pull and that is when I noticed the claw coming out of the shell clinging onto the bag. "Please let me live in a Wal Mart bag!" it seemed to be saying.

You probably figured out that a hermit crab had been living in the shell. Actually, I think he probably had been living in a smaller one and took advantage of the bigger one so close. The amazing thing was that he survived four days in 80+ degree heat in a car with no water or food (unless, of course, the shells had munchies in them). I put the shell into a glass on the countertop. It didn't really fit - sitting at an angle. It would roll depending on whether the crab was in or peeking out of the shell. When I finished cleaning the shells and putting them into baggies, I went to bed.

After laying in bed and almost dozing off, I suddenly became concerned that the crab would reach up and pull himself out of the glass. Then he would walk off the vanity top and his shell would break into a million pieces on the bathroom floor - possibly injuring him or even causing his demise. So I got up and put the glass on the floor. I dozed off. I awoke to the awful thought that a hermit crab suspended in a small glass was pretty cruel. Besides, he might crawl out and one of us would get up and step on him so I got up (again - it is now about 3 am) and put the shell in the bathtub. As I lay in bed that night I could hear him going scrape-scrape-scrape bump bump as he crawled around the perimeter of the tub.

In the morning we decided to let him go back into his natural habitat. Kevin took him to the beach where a photographer was taking pictures. He left Herman with the photographer so he could take some pictures then let him go into into the wild once again.