There it is again — a set of tracks which are clearly coyote — but slightly off. I know from camera traps that the smaller of a pair coyotes in the area has recently injured a hind leg. These tracks confirm she is still injured. Rather than the straight, narrow, and perfectly regular overstep trail of her mate, these tracks come down with a staccato burst of three feet, protecting a 4th leg, whose paw never touches the ground.

Two Sets of Tracks

It is impossible to track a mating pair of coyotes in late winter — their breeding season — without developing a heart-pulling appreciation for the strength of the bond of these oft’ maligned natives of North America. Alongside the irregular tracks of the injured animal are a set of perfect coyote tracks laid down at the same time. Regular as a metronome, narrow and purposeful, they stretch across the snow-covered apple orchard like a promise. Often the male and female tracks overlap, leaving what appears to be a set of tracks from a single animal. Stepping in each others tracks saves energy in the snow. I also imagine it giving a sense of security and companionship of literally following the same path.

But then they diverge. One or the other pulls off to investigate a curious sound or movement in the twilight.

Over the hill, I see a hunting blind set up next to a pile of rocks on the edge of the field. Now, the tracks split completely, as the larger animal heads out and around the blind on a wide flanking route. Two viewpoints are better than one when assessing risk.

At Home With Us

These animals have adapted to the suburbs as well as any human family seeking open space, a safe home, and a place to raise young. We’ve camera trapped this pair in the wooded area around our house for years. I find evidence of their extensive wandering in tracks on the snow when I venture into the orchard on skis. Late in the spring and into the summer, we can hear the yipping and proto-howling of the family at night. For such a quiet animal, the episodes of high-pitched pandemonium exude a joy that can only come when reconnecting with a long-missed family member. Yet for all this, I rarely see these animals directly. One of their most successful adaptations is avoiding us.

It’s impossible to know how the female injured her leg this year. As we gather more video from camera traps, it is clear that injuries in the wild are not uncommon. Was it a thorn stuck in her paw that became infected? An injury sustained while hunting … or being hunted? Or, maybe like me, walking in the orchard this morning instead of on my usual run, it’s just a matter of aging and over-use.

Finding Food

Her injury doesn’t seem to be slowing her down. The tracks I’m following crisscross the orchard and go on for miles. The coyote pair made most of the ones I can see in the very early morning of this cold February day. Her trail pauses in a dense cluster of paw prints. In the middle I find a scat — typical for these parts — composed of undigested apple skins and pulp. Coyotes are omnivores, like us. Like us, they also seem to enjoy meat, and other tracks in the snow show there is plenty around. Snaking subnivean tunnels, exposed by the melting snow, spread out like a spider web around the base of at the apple trees. Their irregular paths follow a pattern known only to the voles who make them.

Then there the tiny paired tracks left by field mice, hopping from cover to cover, and from one buried seed head to the next, leaving a pile of tiny seed husks which look like dusty smudges on the white snow.

For a larger meal, a coyote could follow the soft, padded, bounding trail of the local cottontails. Their blueberry sized pellets surround apple tree branches with their bark skinned off lying on the ground. The orchardist has hardware cloth around the base of his trees for a reason. Still, the rabbits seem to prefer the bark of fresh young branches from the annual pruning. Well-used rabbit trails surround large piles of these cuttings — each a rabbit apartment complex.

Of course, the coyote tracks I’m following surround these rabbit complexes, too. Yet for all the coyote and rabbit tracks recorded in the light snow, there’s no sign that the coyotes found a meal here last night. Hunting success is rare, and a bum leg will make it even rarer.

Unanswered Questions

Like us, coyotes are known to cover for an injured mate — perhaps a shared rabbit? Do they also wonder and worry whether their partner will recover from an injury? Will it be in time to help with frenetic feeding of pups in another month or two?

The tracks say a lot, but they can’t answer some questions. It’s time for me to get back home, and back on the same once-made trail as my own life partner.