Coyotes and bobcats have been spotted
in my rural New England town. Not actually spotted, but
there have been sightings. And not together, never
together, having the same approximate jobs.
Like competing dentists, we are obliged to see
one or the other as they extract what they must.
It was a very good year for chipmunks and they
knew it, leaping to and fro through low garden fences
in rapid succession like long furry ping pong balls
in a heated match. And so much like flying Mars bars that
it became a very good year for coyotes
and bobcats as well. – But never together.
Which makes me imagine, if coyotes and bobcats
were to join forces what wonders they could accomplish.
Perhaps they do when we are not looking,
and pursue bigger game after polishing off
tapirs, emus, coatis – I haven’t seen a single tapir
in the four years I’ve lived here.
They might be protecting us, the coyote and
the bobcat, like superheroes teaming up to
defeat an alien menace. Muscular in their gray fur
outfits. Come to think of it,
no one has spotted a Bengal tiger or a Kodiak bear in
all of Worcester county this year. Not one.
Let us give thanks to the coyotes and bobcats,
for putting aside their differences, and
teaming up just this once for all time while we,
in our homes, avoiding deadly viruses, breathe easy,
and watch from our windows, cell phones poised,
ready to capture one final heroic escapade:
coyote and bobcat,
united to save the world.