The coyote stopped in his tracks, right in the middle of the meadow. His ears were on full alert, watching me closely from about fifty meters away. I had spotted him out of the corner of my eye as I drove a quiet road on the west side of Lyme, and quickly pulled to a stop. It being early on a Sunday morning, it was no problem to stop in the middle of the road and just stare back at him for a while. Although I was on my way out to do some photography, I had plans for landscape (waterfalls) and did not have any big glass with me. Curses! The coyote turned and trotted back to the edge of the woods, then paused to look again to see whether I might move along. I edged forward for a better look, and he moved further into the woods.
It’s not like I was going anywhere soon. After I stopped to watch the coyote, a family of wild turkey decided to cross the street in front of me. They were headed toward the coyote; it’s not clear whether either predator or prey were yet aware. Between them and beyond in the next meadow, a pasture full of sheep grazed peacefully as the morning fog began to rise. This coyote seemed to have several options for his breakfast, and it would have been fascinating to find out how all this ended. I had places to go and things to do, so I nudged the turkeys into motion and made a promise to return to stake out this location another day.
This weekend I woke in the middle of the night to a loud party just up the river. It was clearly a pack of coyotes, howling and yipping excitedly, and continued for perhaps ten minutes. Clearly, something big had happened in the coyote world! So the next day, as I was driving down the road, I looked out across the ice and saw what I expected: a large group of crows picking at a deer carcass, whatever was left after the coyotes had had their fill. Today, there was little left (below, and two more photos here). No scavengers were out there today, so I presume all the edible parts are gone.
The site was perhaps 10 meters out from shore, right in front of one of my neighbor’s houses. She happened to be out shoveling snow as I walked by today. “Yesterday was a pretty dramatic scene,” she said, “as various scavengers competed for access to the remains. Murders and murders of crows* came by; even the local bald eagle tried to elbow his way in for a piece of the action.” She said she had snowshoed out onto the ice for a closer look; I chose to stay on shore and use my 500mm lens to snap my photos.
* yes, a “murder of crows” is the collective noun for a group of crows. [Wikipedia]