Why have you chosen to punish the coyote
rummaging for chicken bones in the dung heap,
shucked the fur from his tail
and fashioned it into a scabby cane?
I said no photos but couldn’t resist posting this one again. It goes so well with today’s poem, Coyote, with Mange.
My little corner of New Mexico would not be the same without our native canid. This year our state legislature came close to banning coyote killing contests, but it didn’t happen. The bill passed three committees and the Senate, but died at the end of the session before it made it to a vote on the floor of the House.
Maybe next year.