The Civilized Hidden Sea


There is hesitancy among the footsteps of our morning walks down the graveled road that parts the civilized hidden sea of green pastures. There have always been coyote droppings left behind on the road nightly, but they have never seemed to bother the dog before. This pause Frosty now takes seems like something new but not to a universe that I suspect he understands far better than me.

I've spotted the lone coyote for some time now, sneaking down the fence rows, across the pastures. I wonder if it knows I am watching it as it watches me. I was warned years ago that a lone coyote in the open can sometimes signify a pack waiting within the tree line. I suspect signs will continue to reveal there are many in this young pack that has stopped Frosty in his tracks.

With the exception of a few images caught on trail cameras, and one close call some time back with a couple of older adults, most daytime coyote appearances have not been life threatening for myself or the dog, but clearly the tide has changed. Frosty has been in a few tussles with them over the years and always fought them off successfully, but populations have expanded, respected boundaries have shifted, and I suspect stronger generations are staking their claim.

Unlimited to the sea, tides seem to come and go in civilized life. Just like a pair of lungs expanding and contracting, organic and inorganic interactions from the micro to the macro breathe in and breathe out with a certainty reflected in what vision allows one to see, and the mind allows one to believe. Despite what one is taught about choice and reason, there isn't a soul on this planet, nor a particle beyond, that isn't at some point affected by these tides; these breaths or perhaps even better said, these heartbeats of nature that operate on multi-dimensional scales.

The tide is in, and so Frosty and I will walk no further than the current edge of this inland sea of green pastures parted by a gravel least until the tide goes out again.