07-06-2006, 05:18 PM
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#1
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Profound Writer
Join Date: Jun 2006
Location: Wymore, Nebraska
Gender: Female
Posts: 1,047
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Coty
An 18 month old gray animal lay on his perch atop a mound of straw dreaming of the meal from the night before, his first kill. A thrill had surged though the animal’s body as a salty ooze filled his mouth and the flesh and bone of the bird’s neck broke in his clenched teeth. That taste was like a mirror to a past when the animal was still free. The succulent rare meat made his chain and collar suddenly feel tight and foreign.
Stretching awake, Coty heard the squeak and thud of the door to the farmer’s habitat.
“Well, Coty my coyote.” Coty heard the familiar welcome from the farmer who had yet to turn his head in Coty’s direction. Then the man looked up at the scene before him. Red stained the ground around Coty and feathers were strewn like fall leaves.
“Damn”, a chicken must have got out of the coop last night.” The farmer yelled in a tone that made Coty cringe, head down as if wounded. “Awe damn” the farmer kicked at clods of dirt and turned back into the house.
Coty could see through the window as the farmer pulled a long stick like object down from a rack then return. Coty was confused by the abrupt manner of the farmer. Then Coty saw the farmer put the stick to his shoulder like a third arm. Coty remembered the object that killed his mother when he was a pup hardly old enough to eat from her scraps.
“Now, I gotta put ya down boy.” The farmer was saying words that Coty didn’t understand, but knew the aggressive tone and the man’s pose meant certain death. Coty’s instinct for flight took over his body as he jerked and lunged against the collar and chain that bound him. Then he felt a slap against his sleek neck as the collar gave way. Coty’s legs were carrying him like an athlete off starting blocks. There was a thundering noise behind him and something whizzed passed his ear. The animal galloped as fast as his legs would go as he heard two more reports from the rifle.
Coty had not looked back since that first lunge against his tether. Soon he was running into brush that closed behind him. He ran until his legs gave under him from exhaustion. Coty’s tongue hung out of his mouth dripping. He panted to refill his lungs and ready for another race for safety. He dared a look back and saw no farmer or rifle.
Sniffing the ground, Coty smelled odors of animals he hadn’t smelled scent of for over a year; yet his nose remembered them. One of the odors was his own kind. He followed the scents as the feel of freedom and wild filled his instinctive memory.
The coyote was ready to find his next kill to fill his belly. All thought of the farmer replaced with need for food.
Soon the grayish wild dog’s instincts would remind him to dig a hole and crawl inside. It would help him find other coyotes. The farmer would become the higher predator of this predator.
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