Saved by Guardian Angels? The Coyote Pursuit

Originally published November 15, 2021

“God, please save us!” I prayed, as Gonzo and I tripped and stumbled in the dark over bushes, branches, and felled trees. I was hoping and praying that cutting through the woods and across the ditch would slow the coyotes down enough for us to make it back home safely. We had no other option.

I had returned to The Adventure Cabin after dark, and Gonzo was waiting patiently, as always, but it had been a long time since he’d had a walk. Once he had performed his Happy Dance Greeting and I had sufficiently rewarded him with attention and adoration, we geared up and headed out.

Gonzo and I walked down the road toward the lone, white church at the end of the hayfield that sat between it and The Adventure Cabin. Gonzo smelled something he wanted to track in the hayfield. I wasn’t quite dressed for tracking some long-gone critter, but Gonzo had been cooped up for longer than he would have liked, so I obliged.

He was pretty excited and I struggled with being annoyed at his eagerness to pull me off balance toward whatever prey he thought I was keeping him from catching. The hunter soon became the hunted, though.

We were deep into the hayfield when I heard a dog barking in the woods on the opposite side of the road by the edge of the field. “There’s no dog living near there.” I thought. “Crap! It has to be off-leash.” “More crap! I don’t even have citronella spray on me to keep it away.”

Gonzo gets a bit murdery around other dogs. It’s no joke and it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. The sweetest dog in the world becomes psychotic and deadly around most dogs. If this beast came near Gonzo, I had nothing to keep it away or break up a fight. We had to move away from the sound of the barking dog quickly and I hoped the dog would return back into the woods across the road.

Gonzo’s blue “find me” light dangled from his collar, only slightly illuminating our path, but certainly showing the dog where we were. The barks seemed to be coming closer and, apparently, Fido wanted to meet us.

All of a sudden, I began to hear howling and cackling near the unseen dog and was suddenly reminded that coyotes send out a bait coyote first to draw in a dog before the pack descends on their prey and devours it. That “off-leash dog” I heard was no dog! There was a pack of coyotes nearby and getting closer.

I had spent many safe nights at home in the New Hampshire woods listening to the far off sounds of coyotes joyously celebrating their kills. The bone chilling screams of their prey had echoed through the woods on multiple occasions, and you could hear the coyotes cackling at the terror they were inflicting. It was always unsettling and disturbing and haunting.

I often imagined the coyotes as excited, drunken gang members howling and postulating around a fire, throwing beer bottles into the fire as their innocent sacrifice burned.

This time, WE were what they were hoping to celebrate. Their joyous anticipation of our terrified screams was hauntingly palpable.

Not much scares me, but these sounds were terrifying. I could hear the blood-curdling howls and cackles coming closer. The coyotes had crossed the road and had made their way into the hay field. They were well on their way to reaching us and we had only one hope that might save us from being mauled to pieces.

Jesus.

I desperately prayed, “God, save us!” just as Gonzo and I plunged into the woods that would, hopefully, lead us to the meadow behind the cabin. If we ran fast enough through the obstacles, we might make it home before they caught us.

What if the coyotes did catch up with us? Without a single weapon on me, what were my options? My plan, should they attack, I decided, was to punch as many of them in the nose as possible. It sounds stupid, but I figured if it supposedly works for sharks, it would be better than doing nothing. At least, I had some kind of plan in mind.

As we ran tripping and falling through the woods, it felt like the branches were groping and grasping at me trying to keep me from reaching safety…holding on to me and pulling at my clothes. It was like a bad dream where you’re trying so hard to run, but feel like you’re getting nowhere, as what you’re running from quickly descends upon you.

Felled trees clung to Gonzo’s leash and tore at my clothes. “I liked those pants.” I thought. I began to wonder if the woods were trying to help the coyotes? At the same time, I was praying we would not be torn to pieces. That wasn’t how I wanted to die.

Gonzo’s blue light was still barely illuminating the way. As the air carried the haughty and condescending cackles of the coyotes, I hated that blue coyote beacon, but decided to leave it lit until we crossed the ditch. Tumbling face first into the water would not have helped our cause and I needed to be able to see at least a little bit to keep that from happening.

The whooping and hollering was getting closer as we approached the ditch and my blood was running colder. No time to look for a good place to cross. We had to cross without hesitation. Fortunately, the water was only shin deep.

“I liked these shoes.” I thought, as the water filled up my ankle boots.

Gonzo and I crossed the ditch and tripped and sloshed up the embankment. I quickly turned off his blue collar light just as soon as I could. The coyotes were close behind us and I could hear them celebrating locating where Gonzo and I had entered the woods.

Gonzo and I continued to run towards safety. As we reached the meadow, I soon realized there were no more howls. No screeches. No barks. No celebration. It had all come to an abrupt stop. Silence.

The last I had heard of the would-be-killers’ cacophony was at the edge of the woods where we entered…the exact same place where I prayed, “God, please save us!”

He did!

I don’t know what was at the edge of the woods that stopped the coyotes, but something kept them from continuing after us. My imagination took over and led me to believe it was a tall angel with a fiery sword standing at the edge of the woods who commanded the coyotes to go home. I don’t know.

All I know is Gonzo and I made it to the meadow and then safely to The Adventure Cabin with hearts pounding and with all of our parts intact.

I don’t know exactly what happened, but I know God has angels protecting me. I have felt their wings brush up against me on other occasions. I have felt them hold up my road bike when I unexpectedly hit a patch of ice at 25mph. I have a lot to thank them for and it looks like coyote wrangling has also made the list.

(Side note, as this is a repost: My sweet Gonzo passed away on April 18, 2023 after a long battle with cancer. My heart is still broken and will never be the same. He will be forever cherished as the best, and most loyal, friend I’ve ever had. Rest In Peace, Gonzo. I’ll be home soon and I can’t wait to see your Happy Dance again.)