A Walk in the Park

Raining today, but at least it's not freezing. Poor souls/soles on the eastcoast. I'm remembering how cold would sneak right past the soles of your boots, into your long underwear, around your padded bra, under your wool scarf, and out your nose, freezing your eyelashes shut. I lived in Madison and Toronto and I know cold....but I couldn't do it again. 

Stay warm my children!

Speaking of them, after they left I took a walk in Heidelberg Park, recently home to the poster wars of my last post. Heidelberg Park reminds me of the Haleakala Crater that Barbara Kingsolver writes about in High Tide in Tucson. Bus loads of tourists come to visit the volcano, but stick to the parking lot; very few descend into its depths, which goes on for miles.

Heidelberg Park isn't exotic like that, but very few people venture beyond the street. Eighteen-acres of park sink into steep, wooded canyon. Does anyone walk into its core besides coyotes, I wonder, as I venture down the trail.

Or I should say trails. Someone's been digging them, and it ain't SMMC. Someone with a strong back, and an eye towards history. Why do I say that? Because he (and I've seen him) has built trails and walls and stairs out of brick. They remind me of the hand built stone walls, from the early 1700s, along the roads near Lexington, KY.

Whoever the trailmaker is, evidence of his love for bricks is everywhere.

Hand built stone wall in Heidelberg Park

Los Angeles Pressed Brick Co. 
founded in 1887

 (this brick, used for a stepping stone, is old!)

 

Trojan

From the open trail, I descend deep into an overhanging mesh of brambles, and surprise a clutch of doves and robins, who fly off making a racket. Is this where the coyotes—sounding in the hundreds— bed down at night?

Further on, I find something unexpected: a skateboard hanging from a rope attached to a tree, 20 ft. up. Who hung it? Not the guy who's digging the trails, he's not the skateboarding type. Must be a kid or two from the 'hood. I try swinging on the board, but fail.

 

Hanging rope in the brambles

I make my way back up and out. It's a workout; I don't see a soul. No one's here on this beautiful day, and I almost feel guilty. But not so guilty that I want the trails clogged with city folk. Let the coyotes and birds and moles enjoy this place of solitude undisturbed.

Heidelberg Park looking out over Highland Park

• •• •

Dear readers, I've just posted a new post on my comic blog, Rat's Nest Comics. I don't advertise, but if you've gotten this far, please check it out.

Coyote Returns

Coyote Returns

You can hear them at night; a pack of 50 or 100, or maybe just 20, down in the canyon yipping and yowling for a good long while after a siren goes off. I've never seen a pack, but I have seen a solitary coyote hanging out by the turn in the road, my headlights illuminating its opaque, glass-colored eyes, when I come home from work. I've wondered if this isn't the same lone coyote that visits next door in the middle of the day, looking for a handout from my neighbor Thea.

Thea started feeding a coyote two years ago, when it was a toddler. I told her, pleaded with her, that it was wrong to feed a wild animal and, much to my surprise, she agreed; she promised to stop but then she didn't. I felt helpless to do anything about it: my neighbor is old and lonely. The coyote was her friend.

I hadn't seen the coyote for three or four months; I'd missed its absence, for no matter what you say, having a wild animal nearby can send shivers down your spine. It's thrilling, yet....it's still wrong. I was sitting down to write, when, out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash, it was the coyote back in Thea's yard!

I heard Thea calling to the coyote, "Come, come. Come, come," in her German accent, as she placed food on the ground. I grabbed my video camera and ran outside. You can see in the video, the coyote looking to the left (Thea), then looking straight ahead (me) and the dilemma he finds himself in. He doesn't know what to do: here's a witness to his forsaking his wild coyote ways, and I imagine, he's a little bit embarrassed. Later, he plops down in the grass in Thea's lower yard, smelling the flowers (a true Ferdinand, the coyote), passing a peaceable afternoon. 

Coyote biding his time until I leave. 

After 45 minutes of taking in the breezes and catching bugs, he goes back to dine at Thea's table.

To view on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdes2M53RqA

Ferdinand the Coyote

It's hard not to hear the goings on next door, especially given that my kitchen window looks out on my neighbor's yard. At night I can hear swishing in the bushes as the night creatures make their way to Thea's bowls. In the morning I hear more swishing and tap tap tapping and see the skunks and cats and crows and coyote that come to eat breakfast and dinner. 

To be fair, the coyote hasn't been around much this summer... until last weekend. This comes as a relief but not a surprise as Mary Paglieri, a "human-animal conflict consultant" with the Little Blue Society, told me this would happen. She explained in scientific detail how he would eventually wean himself of human interaction (I'm assuming coyote is a he but he could be a she): "Given time, this matter will resolve on its own, the coyote will decide [when]." 

When coyote does come around, it's like a homecoming. Thea comes right into the lower yard where the coyote's lying in the grass not more than five feet away. She talks to him and coyote listens, waiting for her to put food into the bowl. Then she gives him her blessing and climbs back up the steps to go inside. Thea is unafraid because the coyote is her friend. He likes skunks. He likes to smell the breezes. He likes the tall grasses in Thea's backyard. He must get sick of coyote life—enough of the urine smells and hard rocks for beds and howling at night. 

Coyote is Ferdinand the bull.

"He liked to sit just quietly and smell the flowers. He had a favorite spot out in the pasture under a cork tree. It was his favorite tree and he would sit in its shade all day and smell the flowers."—Munro Leaf, illustrated by Robert Lawson

Seeing is believing. Here is Coyote as Ferdinand: 





Previous posts on Coyote:
http://charlottehildebrand.blogspot.com/2011/06/tale-about.html
http://charlottehildebrand.blogspot.com/2011/06/in-shifts.html
http://charlottehildebrand.blogspot.com/2011/06/howl.html