Coyote Summer

As a girl who grew up in the Southwest, I was pretty familiar with coyotes. You see kitschy coyotes in stores, and restaurants with coyote in their names. People complain of coyotes in their yards, and others go out hunting them. I had a coyote nightlight in my room, and stylized triangle coyotes popped up frequently in the doodled margins of my school notebooks. The surprising thing, however, is that I don't recall ever seeing a real live coyote in all my years in New Mexico. My brother says he sees them all the time, but me? Not so much.

Until this summer. Ironically the first coyote I've (I think) ever seen was in Tacoma, Washington. That was in July. My second coyote was last Thursday on that long drive through the mountains. And my third coyote sighting took place this evening, during a walk by the railroad tracks with my dad and our dog Jackson. I know I don't really live here anymore, but these sightings help me feel a little more legitimately New Mexican.* Not that I was never legit, of course.




*On a field trip last year to Williamsburg, Virginia, I was introduced to an undergraduate who was also from New Mexico. I had just been telling a friend of mine about tortilla burgers with green chili on them, so I was excited to have a fellow New Mexican to back me up on their delicious existence. Only when I mentioned tortilla burgers to the guy he said he'd never heard of them, and then he admitted he only lived in New Mexico as a little kid before moving somewhere else. He was definitely not a legitimate New Mexican. And I bet he's never seen a coyote.