The Laws of Nature, Ex Post Facto

In the purest form of Darwinism, a hare, whom under any other circumstances would have been ripped to shreds by a pack of coyotes, had its life saved yesterday by yours truly.
Fundamentally, it was wrong of me to intercede on its behalf, at least according to the laws of nature, but I did and today I feel awful.
Yes, awful.

CAST & CREW

A small hare, apparently freaked-out by the pack of coyotes chasing it, taking refuge under a stack of lumber, and very likely pissing itself.

A pack of coyotes, really yelping little obscenities who should have been sleeping, nocturnal fucks they are, and were anything but. Instead, they were on a killing spree and wanted everyone to know about it. Loudly.

And me.
Enjoying the freakishly joyful lethargy only a Saturday morning could offer. Until the commotion began—a ruckus of epic proportion that would interfere with my sloth. Not cool.
I grab my scatter gun and go outside to investigate.

THE EVENT

A quick glance across my rear yard reveals the source of this ungodly mayhem, a pack of coyotes, haunched, poised to attack something. It’s through a small portal under a pile of lumber I see their intended booty, a baby rabbit.
Reasoning how five coyotes weren’t going to be remotely satiated by one tiny rabbit, I chose to act.

Now I happen to know a thing or two about coyotes.
Like how they’ll flee upon the mere sighting of a human.
Or how, and this is a big one, they’ll scatter like buckshot at the sound of gunfire. In either case, I would simply scare them off and return to my sanctuary for a day of college football and beer.

My chosen method on this day was Axiom #1.
Knowing full well my presence would shake them to their core and the event would be over with shortly, I raised my arms to appear large, while simultaneously performing a cross-fit lunge even the most ardent gym-rat would admire. I screamed at them in the process. A yell six octaves higher than my normal speaking voice and highly likely to straighten any bystander’s pubes within earshot.
They weren’t ‘fleeing’ as Axiom #1 suggested.

This is when the ‘laws’ of nature seemed more like ‘guidelines’ rather than actual laws. These fuckers weren’t going anywhere, not without a homeward victory march and full bellies. I suspect, and mind you, this is only conjecture, they’d set out that day after their morning meeting, whereupon they’d taken a coyote oath pledging to kill and eat something that day. Or at worst, send a human to the trauma ward as a consolation prize. They now appeared to be focused on the consolation prize.

After my meritorious lunge, I had milliseconds to act. It was in that precise moment I noticed a spray of saliva with each bark, similar to watching a boxer get hit in slow motion—beads of sweat flying through the air, defying the laws of gravity. Only this wasn’t sweat, it was saliva and it was flying in my direction.
This played an important role in my deductive reasoning process, hastily concluding there would be no more lunges at this point. It was time to invoke Axiom #2.
I fired a warning shot into the air.
There was no ‘scattering like buckshot’ as Axiom #2 also suggested.

Fresh out of coyote axioms, and baffled by laws of nature, I reckoned it was time for another decision, only this one would require far less time than the first two.
I threw down my shotgun and bolted for the house.

Here’s where I’d like to point out another little factoid about coyotes, something I learned only yesterday. They smell fear.
Prodigious amounts of fear.

I was twenty paces from the rear door of the house when I began my sprint, the dogs were fifty. When I slammed the door behind me, the dogs were attacking the glass.
Now I’m not a mathematician, but judging from the dog’s rate of closure and, my speed somewhat diminished from a partly-healed sprained ankle, most would agree the coyotes were a fuckload¹ faster than me.

THE CAST, EX POST FACTO

The bunny rabbit?
I’ve no idea where it ended up, but I do know it wasn’t on a coyote dinner plate. I’m thinking it was furiously wiping the sweat from its brow in those frenzied moments as the coyotes turned their attention to me, probably thanking some weird rabbit god for its stroke of good fortune in the process.

The coyotes?
They probably slinked off to parts unknown, shamed by their inability to adhere to the laws of nature—taking down only the young or weak.
I imagine they’re gathered up in a den somewhere, reviewing the day’s events, all;

“US, why is it our  fault Ralph??? Last time we checked, you were the fucking alpha here.”

And me.
Now enjoying the quiet reflection and solitude only a Sunday morning can muster, replaying these events, thinking about stuff in general, like:

How coyotes aren’t afraid of lunging humans or, the sound of gunfire.
Or how accurate Einstein’s theory, especially the part about time passing slowly the faster one moves through it.
And, how by being fearful the coyotes might honor their pledge if given the chance, led to a day spent indoors, drinking beer and watching tv, but mostly the beer part.

As I said, I feel awful today and it’s not because I saved a bunny.

Screw the bunny, let's get this guy

Screw the bunny, let’s get this guy

¹Markedly more than an  assload, boatload, or shitload

2 Responses to “The Laws of Nature, Ex Post Facto”

  1. Great story. You know, you’d look fabulous in a coyote fur coat.

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