Heckle and Jeckle

 

Two young coyotes rushed out from the brush. Not cubs yet not adults either, their human equivalents, I suppose, we would call adolescents. I was sure they were playing, whether tag or something else was anyone's guess. One saw me almost immediately, stopped in its tracks, wheeled about, and ran back into the deep protective cover. The other, however, more intently entangled in the game and not paying the least bit of attention to its surroundings, ran completely out into Miramar to the verge on the other side where the Three Valleys fence stopped him. At that point he whirled about, clearly expecting to see his companion if not also to receive a little playful nip. Instead, the other was nowhere in sight. This coyote's look said it all and, if he could have spoken, the look would have said, "whaaaaa, where'd you go?"

He still had not noticed me and was going to get a big surprise with just a few more turns of my cranks. I decided to give him a little warning  and stopped pedaling; the sudden sound of the freewheel was like a boom of thunder echoing around those big coyote ears. There was another classic reaction, his eyes grew huge and wide in shock and, after just a moments' hesitation, he too bolted back across the road, disappearing. I have not doubt his companion witnessed it all and laughed heartily at the others' expense. 

Should I see them in that area again, I shall know who they are and will name them Heckle and Jeckle. After all, there is no reason those names should be the sole domain of crows.

It was a terrific evening in the out there for viewing wildlife and viewing... views.