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  • It is hunting season now, here in the County but it is always open season for coyotes.
    They are hated by the farmers and are considered fair game anytime.
    One day, when I first moved here, the dogs showed up.
    There was a pick-up truck on the road doing a slow drive by, and then we saw the dogs in the yard.
    They had large collars with little boxes on them and I realized that they were connected to the driver of the truck.
    The dogs were operating under remote control and fanning out into our field and then into the woods beyond.
    They were running and barking into the woods.
    At first I thought they were drug dogs, but I asked a neighbor and he told me about open season on coyotes.
    I called them the radio dogs.

    Sometimes during a full moon in summer, or on a clear, cold night in winter, I can hear the coyotes singing. From the sounds of the chorus, it is a small pack, but their high and wavering voices echo and amplify along the valley.
    Their song is something wild and pre-literate, handed down from their ancestors and sung to ours.
    When I first heard them sing I felt like I had found something, like their song offered a portal to a lost world.
    Now I know, they are singing a song of their own extinction.
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