Coyote Crazy!

I know you must have seen the dead coyote on the shoulder before you entered the course yesterday. I bet you thought the same thing I did: it was The Gal. It was a depressing thought, but the body was so near where she had been last week on the first tee I figured it had to be her. I had brought a generous tub of last night’s corned beef for her and was about to dump it out on the hole when I decided maybe I was being premature. On the 10th tee, where I had originally met her, I scanned the area around the hole for any sign. Nothing. I was recalling her visits and her growing trust over the last two years, bringing her closer and closer with every donation Coach or I made. On a lark, I gave it my best Bronx whistle and stared. Nothing.


But on my second whistle … oh, my! She darted out from some 300 yards away and came running as she always had. She circled me as she always does, then waited for my contribution. The corned beef disappeared quickly. She seemed a bit wary on this occasion, and didn't come as close as usual (three or four feet). I believe it was the smile on my face that kept her suspicious; the game, after all, elicits more frowns than wide grins. She clearly had doubts about this fresh face. She followed me for a hole or two, and, while her presence didn't improve the state of my game, it elevated the cheeks on my face.


"Stop smiling, Raggio—you're frightening me!"  ~ Lyle