🎨 Celebrating Coyotes Week - Tribute Installations
As part of our first annual Celebrating Coyotes Week and National Coyote Day tribute series, we are honoured to share a special artistic duo installation featuring a gifted acrylic painting by Dr. Shelley Alexander, to accompany the personal reflection by author Janice Rider.
This kickoff day brings together art, story, and lived experience reminding us that understanding wildlife is not only about science, but also about how we see, feel, and tell the stories of the animals who live beside us. Through brush and story, this installation reflects the spirit of nature literacy. Learning with both knowledge and empathy and honours the coyote as a resilient and essential part of the biodiversity we share.
Thank you to Dr. Shelley Alexander for this magnificent artwork titled, "Coyote and the Feather" and to Janice Rider for the personal restorying titled "Coyote in the City" that helps bring this tribute to life. What a wonderful way to start this celebratory week for National Coyote Day!
— For the wild ones, Coyote Watch Canada
Coyote in the City
As a Calgary resident living in Hawkwood, I have had numerous experiences with coyotes in the city. I have watched them hunt for mice and voles on Nose Hill, seen them moving through the vegetation alongside Confederation Creek in Confederation Park, startled as four coyotes exploded unexpectedly from beneath an evergreen on a hillside, and observed coyotes in my own residential area. In the evening, coyotes sometimes provide wonderful musical entertainment, their voices ululating in the air. It is difficult to choose one particular memory out of many, but last year I had the privilege of having a coyote allows me to get very close to her indeed. Each morning, I begin the day by taking our dog, a rough collie, down through the “urban green space” next to our home.
It is a time to rejoice in the quiet of the first part of the day, listen to bird calls, and revel in the early light of the sun. On this occasion, it was a winter morning, and a thin blanket of snow hugged the ground. This green space comes to a T-intersection, and here, beneath a large spruce, our dog, Sage, spotted something nestled against the earth close to the tree. I swiveled to see what had grabbed her attention and saw a ball of fur curled in on itself, atop which sat two russet triangles. It was difficult to figure out exactly what I was looking at, even from only two and a half metres away. Was it a cat? Suddenly, a head emerged from behind a tail, and a coyote stared first at Sage and then at me. I moved my dog away, and we continued walking, so as not to disturb the coyote.
When we came back around, having completed our circuit, she was still where we’d originally found her, quite nonplused about our presence. I felt some concern about her and wondered if she was well. Later in the day, she was gone. That week, Sage had an upset stomach, and I was forced to take her outside in the early hours of the morning one night. As I waited for my dog to do her thing, I spotted a coyote with a full, healthy coat traveling down the road near us. Two russet ears swiveled in my direction, and she glanced back over her shoulder at the odd spectacle of a human and a dog up at night under the stars. The coyote’s eyes were bright, and her feet danced along the packed snow of the road. I smiled.
