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November/December 2000 issue	In this issue Table of Contents Editor’s Notebook The Inside Story Feature: Alert, Nunavut À la carte Curious by nature Reverberations

A CLUSTER OF PEOPLE stands at the edge of a cottonwood grove, their faces raised to the evening sky. Eyes tight shut, lips pursed, they yip and howl like wild things, then wait. As the human ululation fades, a rising cry echoes back across the woods. Coyotes? Or the wailing of fire sirens? Hard to be sure when you’re in the heart of Canada’s largest urban centre.

For the past decade, coyotes have been denning on the Leslie Street Spit, a finger of land extending into Lake Ontario about four kilometres from midtown Toronto. According to Scott Jarvie, coordinator of environmental projects for the Toronto and Region Conservation Authority (and leader of the coyote howl), the animals now occupy virtually every major park in and around the city. What’s more, coyotes have taken up residence in many other cities across North America, from Vancouver and Los Angeles to Halifax and New York. Not bad for a species that 200 years ago was at home only in the wide open spaces of the western grasslands. By 1995, when the first coyotes reached Prince Edward Island, the animals had laid claim to all but the northernmost regions of the continent.

The story of this remarkable expansion reads like an episode from the native myth of Coyote the Trickster. For coyotes have prospered in the face of a determined human effort to stop them. Frustrated by depredations of livestock (especially calves and lambs), we pursued them with every weapon at hand. When leghold traps and bullets failed us, we baited them with poison and set dynamite in their dens. Even today, an estimated 350,000 to 400,000 coyotes are killed every year in the United States alone, and in Canada, where no central registry is kept, the annual death toll must surely run to five or six figures.

Yet in the face of this persecution, the resourceful coyote has gotten the better of us by taking advantage of every opportunity that we chanced to offer up. For example, by clearing forests for farming, we inadvertently opened up new coyote habitat; then by exterminating wolves, the coyotes’ main natural predator, we removed the only force that might have limited their expansion. Even killing coyotes creates opportunities for the surviving coyotes, since it provides them with access to plentiful prey and den sites. These resources are quickly translated into litters of bright-eyed pups, which in turn rebuild and extend the population. One way or another, it seems, coyotes always triumph.

The Toronto coyotes are a case in point. Although the animals had established themselves around Lake Ontario by the early 1900s, they were pushed aside as Toronto expanded. Unable to survive in a landscape of pavement and postage-stamp-sized lawns — without enough small mammals to eat or seclusion for rearing their young — the coyotes retreated outside the city limits. At the time, most people probably thought that that was where they belonged. The city was for people, the country for animals. But attitudes have "greened" since then, and city dwellers now demand a touch of nature in their urban habitat. Over the past 10 to 15 years, green spaces have been expanded, parks have been "naturalized" and areas like the Leslie Street Spit have been allowed to go wild. Once these improvements were made, it wasn’t long before coyotes moved in to take advantage of them.

For Jarvie, the return of Toronto’s coyotes is a mark of success. "For many people, an urban park or a ravine provides a first exposure to the natural world. Predators, including coyotes, ought to be part of the picture. Most of the people I talk to are glad they are there, providing more balance to the local ecosystem."

But living next door to the Trickster, satisfying though it may be, can also be challenging. Ten years ago, Jarvie typically received one or two calls a year from residents who thought they had sighted wolves. But as the coyote population has grown, so have the number of calls. Jarvie now fields two to three dozen complaints a year, primarily during the breeding season (winter through spring), when coyotes are most vocal, most active and most hungry. "There’s a coyote in my compost." "A coyote bit my dog." "A coyote nipped at my shopping bag and followed me through High Park."

Although some callers demand action — they want the "problem" removed — Jarvie believes that the solution lies in public education. Even if it were feasible to slaughter coyotes in the city (which clearly it is not), coyote control has proved to be a universal failure. Relocating "nuisance animals" won’t work either, because coyotes are notoriously difficult to catch; the Trickster is not about to walk into a live trap. Supposing a coyote could be removed, its place would quickly be filled, and the newcomer would doubtless find some way of getting into trouble.

If coyotes aren’t about to change their ways, then humans will have to adapt. "We need to teach people how to prevent potential problems," says Jarvie. Since coyotes sometimes kill cats and small dogs, pets should be kept on a leash — "right on your heel, not 20 feet ahead on an extendable lead." Even more important, coyotes should never be fed, either accidentally (by leaving garbage lying around) or on purpose (in an effort to help them). "Coyotes have moved into the city because there is good habitat for them here. They do not require supplementary food." Animals that receive handouts from people lose their inborn fear and may start coming a bit too close for comfort.

Although coyotes can be unnerving, they aren’t very dangerous. An adult human can easily scare them away by yelling or throwing rocks; small children, on the other hand, should be carefully watched. In the 1980s, a toddler was killed by a coyote in Los Angeles, the only recorded instance of such a tragedy. (Fortunately, coyotes do not often become rabid.)

By crossing the final frontier into downtown Canada, coyotes have added their own wild note to the urban environment. With a few common-sense precautions, we can enjoy their proximity and even hope to live with them in natural harmony.

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