Grizzlies and Coyotes

I appreciated the text I received from my neighbor.

He let me know that he spotted three frolicking grizzlies near a reservoir just west of my ranch.

That was a day I tagged four newborn calves.

We might squirm at the thought of slimy afterbirth, but other carnivores salivate at the same thought.

I had grizzly bait scattered across my pasture.

Two days earlier, I had attended a meeting to introduce several new state and federal bear managers, hired to protect people and livestock from bears while, at the same time, protecting bears from people.

Instead of reacting to livestock deaths by predators, they all talked about efforts to avoid bear encounters.

This policy is new.

And welcome.

And slow progress by agencies and policymakers.

The bear managers hazed those three frolicking grizzlies away from the neighborhood livestock before they caused trouble instead of waiting to see if they would kill a newborn calf.

Those bears might come back tonight, but they did not find trouble last night.

I compare this strategy to human laws and enforcement.

Just as we protect citizens from rapists and murderers so law-abiding citizens can enjoy life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, we need to punish bears who threaten the personal safety of humans and livestock, allowing those that don’t cause problems to thrive.

We will never prevent every crime, but we will reduce the likelihood.

A few years ago, a grizzly wandered into my yard and scratched on the side of my house.

I won’t be surprised if another needs to scratch again.

Several years ago, a grizzly killed ewes and lambs in my corral.

I won’t be surprised if another kills again.

But at least the odds are a little lower, even though scientists have deemed the population of grizzly bears is biologically recovered.

I go about my business of ranching, aware of the dangers of grizzlies, on the lookout for tracks, scat and mama bears.

So when I found the freshly-consumed six-day old calf, with only the spine, legs and head left and small canine tracks surrounding him, I was furious.

Bears might kill a calf, but coyotes should not.

I accept that coyotes will kill lambs.

Ewes have no way to defend their lambs.

I have three working livestock guardian dogs that patrol the flock.

I herd the flock to the safety of the corral each night.

But I depend on the mama cow to protect her calf. My cows are big and fierce and can fight off a 30-pound coyote.

This calf’s mama failed.

Epic fail.

She bought herself a ride to McDonald’s.

I carry a rifle in my truck. Several times, I have spotted a massive coyote, twice the size of the others, but he always lopes over the hill at least 500 yards away.

I can no longer use the most effective tools against coyotes. M-44 pulls might poison a grizzly. Traps might catch a guard dog. I am left with firepower, good eyesight and patience.

Coyotes have small bodies with a lot of puffy fur. At most, the effective range of a rifle on a small running target is 400 yards. People declare their prowess at a thousand yards, but those shots are almost always luck. Most people can’t calculate the arc and speed of a bullet precisely before Mr. Coyote disappears in the coulee.

Coyotes patrol with eagle-eyesight and echolocation-like hearing.

They feel the ground vibration of a pickup.

My brother, Roger, and I sit and wait.

We hide behind rocks.

We shiver at dawn and dusk.

Roger has patience. I fight my mental to-do list swirling in my mind.

The coyotes have another litter of pups.