Suburban Howls

On December 11, 2006, I was heading to Quarry Point on Picton Island to see if otters had visited their latrine and I saw something swimming in the river.



After watching the coyote swim a quarter mile, I was amazed to see that it was lame. That's why I contacted Jon Way, through his web page, to see what he thought about the injury. Well, he couldn't make too much out of it, other than admiring the coyote. He also mentioned that he had a book coming out, Suburban Howls, about his tracking coyotes in the suburbs of Eastern Massachusetts. I don't see coyotes in the suburbs. I'm about 25 miles from the nearest mall. But I do see coyotes and the only other book on the eastern coyote is a bit dated, written before the coyote really began filling out the territory. So I got Way's book for Christmas.

Ironically, though he described his pursuit of radio collared coyotes in the graveyards of Everett and the cranberry bogs of Cape Cod, where cars were the greatest threat to the animals, I had no trouble empathizing because of his focus on and sympathy for the coyotes who seemed oblivious to all the proud importance we humans ascribe to our developments. Perhaps coyotes would prefer my island swamps to parking lots but their negotiating the latter didn't make them any less coyotes, which is to say, they understood the giving land and their duty to it.

Way relished following the call of the wild so near the homes of friends and family. His enthusiasm attracted a host of helpers with the wit to celebrate how a wild animal could redeem the sprawl by showing through its doggedness that the sprawl was ephemeral. Fortunately Way is not a subtle writer. When irony comes crashing down on him, he picks himself up shouts for joy or rage and keeps his radio antennae and night vision scopes trained on the coyotes. The rage is the more interesting reaction, because he takes on some imposing forces. His research was for a masters in biology, but he was doing his Ph. D. in education. Perhaps because of that he did not have to cower and curry the favor of the wildlife management establishment that for almost a century has propped up the murderous traditions of so-called sportsmen.

Way calls the men with the rifles "rednecks," especially those who illegally bait to attract coyotes, and Way correctly sees that their lust for killing warps the judgment of their scientific and political patrons. I'll pause now, and grab some quotes from the book.

Page 134: "If you don't believe how pro-consumptive state wildlife departments are in encouraging hunting and trapping, then trying interviewing for a position as I did. In March 2005 I met with the departmental select staff to interview for the "Furbearing Biologist" job for the state.... I thought I was the perfect candidate as I explained that I strongly believed that sustained research and education should be part of the job. The conversation very quickly turned to trapping, which is a major portion of the job for most furbearing biologists in a state wildlife agency. When I made my point that trapping wasn't the long term answer to succeed in controlling wildlife in this position, I was repeatedly questioned, then lectured. about the recreational value of the activity."

Page 135: "Besides worrying about staying safe from rednecks out hunting while I non-consumptively recreate, I was struck by the discrepancy between the ease of their obtaining a hunting license compared to the difficulty a mild mannered researcher faced in obtaining a permit for scientific purposes. It is a striking example of the dichotomy that exists between some of the various stakeholders associated with wildlife"

Page 215: "This traditional system of hunting fees paying for most wildlife management, if not changed, will likely prevent us from appropriately coexisting with wildlife, especially in areas where hunting is not an option."