It was about six-thirty when I headed back. A small dog was trotting down the middle of the road.
Only it wasn't a dog. It was a coyote. Half-grown and looking confused, if I'm any judge of coyote emotions. And heading in the directon of busy Barbur Boulevard and the I-5 freeway.
We're a couple of miles from Gabriel Park, where I know there are coyotes. And way up above our house is a green spine of undeveloped land. Every five or six years we see white-tailed deer, and about 15 years ago, memorably, a buck with a full rack of antlers.
Maybe I'm in the minority, judging by this article, but I kind of like coyotes. It was interesting to read about how well adapted they are to urban life, even more than I imagined.