Happy Holidays??

Jews and Muslims are not the problem.They have their own religious beliefs and traditions,often very different from my own,but they,for the most part get a very fundamental truth that the so called progressive thinking,politically correct anti-religionists miss.That is,that I,like a good many people am a Christian and that I celebrate Christmas.And for the most part,Muslims and Jews have no problem with that.They are more than happy to greet me by saying "Merry Christmas."

So why do the anti-religious continue to insist that the word "Christmas"cannot help offending anyone who is not of the Christian faith?Believe me,as my Jewish and Muslim friends do,that this is not my intent.And if you happen to be anti-religious,get used to it,because I intend to go on using this obnoxious word,as offensive as it may be to you,for as long as I draw breath.It's time you took ownership of what offends you instead of passing it off to others.

It was explained to me last week why the term"Happy Holidays"was more appropriate than"Merry Christmas"The word"Holiday",by terms of this explanation,should be rendered "Holy Day."Seems reasonable to me,and I will accept that logic as far as it goes,but my particular holiday,or Holy Day,if you prefer has a name which indicates the purpose of it's observance.Could it be that part of the word that is what really offends you?Just wondering.Again,nobody would mind if you took ownership of your ideology.Because you insist that by saying "Happy Holidays"or "Seasons Greetings",you are being inclusive and inoffensive.But is that true?Really?

You see,here is the problem that I have.Christians,Jews,and indeed all religious persons have observances and traditions associated with their particular belief.And as much as anti-religionists want to deny the fact,so do they.I'm not exactly certain of what it is every anti-religionist believes,but I am certain that they have raised atheism and agnosticism to the status of religion.And that religion is an especially intolerant one,though it rides on a wave of political correctness.

As a Christian,I have no problem with wishing  Jewish people Happy Hanukkah.To me it is a simple matter of civility.The two holidays occur in the same season,so perhaps Seasons Greetings would suffice,but that is to deny the real significance of a particular observance.And,moreover,it is appropriate for another reason.When we talk of Christian values,what we really mean is Judeo-Christian values.Christianity developed through God's promise to Abraham and is revealed throughout the totality of Jewish History.It's purpose,and Christ's identity was revealed through Jewish Prophets,so that on that first Christmas Morning,He would be recognizable to all mankind.Further,Christs apostles clearly understood His teachings in a uniquely Jewish context.So,while we celebrate different holidays,if you are Jewish,let me wish you a very Happy Hanukkah.

Now,as to you anti-religionists,if I knew what you celebrated in your expression of your lack of faith,I would also happily extend appropriate greetings.I don't want to say "Seasons Greeting"as that would be denial of the reasons for your celebration,but,as to what you believe,I must confess ignorance.Perhaps we could invent a holiday so that you don't feel so left out at what must seem to you to be a rather gloomy time of year,given the lack of a belief in God.Maybe we could deify Charles Darwins birthday,or perhaps call it Richard Dawkins Day.Or perhaps celebrating the Slaughter Of The Innocents would be appropriate,seeing the effort that seems to be directed at doing that covertly anyway.And,of course,there would be a need for some appropriate traditions such as maybe making gingerbread monkeys,fish and dinosaurs,or hanging variously evolved monkeys on some sort of a tree,or perhaps reading passages from Bertrand Russell as opposed to Dylan Thomas.Of course you would likely want some classic seasonal films as well.The one on The Scopes Monkey Trial comes immediately to mind,but "It's A Wonderful Life "would likely have to end on a somewhat different note.Or maybe a film called "Yes Virginia,There is a Bonobo/Neanderthal/Human."

In the meantime,that tree I bring into the house is not an Xmas tree,or a holiday tree.It's a Christmas tree.I'm not bringing it into the house to celebrate a winter holiday or a seasonal holiday.I'm bringing it in to celebrate Christmas.The star and the angel at the top of that tree have Christian meaning,as does the nativity scene and the wise men and the manger.And my celebration of Christmas is in no way intended to insult people of other belief systems.In fact,Happy Chuck Darwin Day.Now would you please run along while I celebrate my particular holiday in the manner it was intended to be celebrated.

essay-coyotes in calgary-part III

One day in mid September I was out taking pictures of industrial buildings near the Ogden rail yards.I thought I would cut across the yards from Sixty-First Avenue and Barlow in a fairly direct fashion and end up at Ogden road and Sixty-Ninth.But the route turned out to skirt the entire yard,taking me far to the south along a series of fences.

Nearly half way around,on the far south end of the rail yard,I came across the coyote.This poor creature was anything but a ruthless killer,and,in the interests of good taste I did not even bother to photograph it,the sight being simply too distressing.

If I had wanted, I could have walked right up to this animal even thought of doing just that.This coyote was a juvenile,perhaps from the most recent litter,which would have made it five to six months old.But it was impossibly thin,looking something like broom sticks fused together with a few tufts of hair.All of it's body was covered in open sores,and huge patches of it's fur were gone.One very large,bloody sore encircled the base of it's tail.This young coyote was in the process of starvation,despite ample food supplies.It could be that it had incurred some injury,or perhaps it was abandoned by it's mother before it learned how to hunt,which would mean that it had been suffering for a number of weeks,if not months.

When I first caught sight of this creature,it was half sitting,half laying about four feet out from a chain link fence.It was a long time,it seemed before it became aware of my presence.I was only about eight feet away when it tried to get up and run away.Only it couldn't run away.Instead,it half crept and half staggered until it bumped into the fence.The fence seemed to surprise it,just as much as I had.

The coyote turned at the shoulders and looked at me.It was a look I will never forget.Not a stare.Not a passing glance.It was a look of no real interest.Not a curious look,or a vigilant look.It could have only been saying one thing."I know you are going to kill me,but there is nothing I can do about it."And he fixed that look on me and waited.I passed the haunted looking animal,and it's eyes tracked me,but it's countenance never changed.That visual tracking seemed to take all the energy the animal had.I opted for an anonymous call to a wildlife rescue agency,with the hope that this creature could be painlessly euthanized.But had I had a gun or a tire iron,I might well have elected to end it's suffering without further delay.

Coyotes are often reviled.They are hunted down and shot,trapped and even dismembered by dogs.They are poisoned,and struck by cars,likely the biggest threat to their safety..Some of them starve,and they can be killed by other alpha predators such as bears or mountain lions or even wolves.

We even choose to stereotype coyotes as stupid,as in the Roadrunner cartoons,which for as long as I can remember show a creature that,while resourceful,sees that resourcefulness come to no end.The reality could hardly be more different.Coyotes,as a species are very successful.They have not only survived the encroachment of humans into their territory,they have seemed to find new ways to prosper by it.Calgary is no different from many cities in that respect,as it continues to experience rapid growth.Even so,coyotes are hardly being pushed back.It seems unlikely that we will be living in a world without them anytime soon.There will likely continue to be conflicts with our coyote neighbors.But I wonder if we might come to think of them differently.We could likely hunt them into extinction,but should we?

It seems more likely that we will need to find better ways of living with coyotes.We will need to better understand how to avoid conflict with coyotes and consistently employ the strategys we already know to keep ourselves safe when coyotes are near.Stop feeding them.As with bears,also a big problem here in parts of Western Canada,we need to take care to dispose carefully and securely of garbage.Leaving pet food outside is one of the biggest problems.And it goes without saying that pets and children need to be closely monitored when outside.Without practicing needless cruelty, we need to make certain that encounters with humans are not a positive experience of the coyote.We may be too late already on that front and it may be the best that we can do to assure that no food is available to them when they enter our yards and neighborhoods.

The bottom line with coyotes is that they are wild creatures.They need to be kept that way.I have encountered them many times without conflict,and in truth,I enjoy having them around.Each experience has taught me something.But we are better off,both myself and coyotes, when those meetings are fleeting in nature,when they understand me as a potential threat to be avoided,and I understand them as a wild creature to be enjoyed and respected for what they are.



Resources:"Myths&Truths About Coyotes.What You Need To Know About Americas Most Misunderstood Predator."-Carol Cartaino.

                  Music Video.Ian Tyson-The Coyote and The Cowboy.

essay-coyotes in calgary-part II

Back up on the North Hill,as in other parts of Calgary,there are coyotes too.In fact,the one I saw creeping through the snow on Prince's Island had most likely wandered down from McHugh Bluff,the escarpment that leads up from the north bank of the Bow River.

The North Hill can be roughly defined as that part of town bordered on the south by the Bow River,on the west by Fourteenth Street,and on the east by a broad valley through which the Deerfoot Trail,Calgary's busiest road runs.The Deerfoot is bordered on the west by green space and the main set of railroad connecting Calgary with points north.The North Hill also has several sizable golf courses,cemeteries and parks.Nose Hill Park just to the north west ,while to the northeast is Calgary's International Airport.In short,the communities of the North Hill are more than accommodating to coyotes.

It's up on the North Hill that I would always see the signs.The signs were usuall made with a color printer and would be taped up to every pole and bus shelter for blocks around.Usually they were entitled"Lost Dog"or "Lost Cat",and would have a picture of the animal,usually a smaller breed,along with a description.Sometimes there would be more than one picture on each pole.

It would be good to believe that those beloved pets had just wandered of,but,in most cases,I fear that it would not be true.Nature,after all is said to be red in tooth and claw and ,over the years I've lived on the North Hill,I've seen several coyotes within a stones throw from residential areas.The unfortunate truth,most of the time is that those pets have become a commodity in the food chain.

Some people feed coyotes.Not all feeding is intentional,but all feeding encourages coyotes to view people,and the animals that are associated with people as a food source.Sometimes it's a matter of leaving pet food out in the yard for pets.But pet food is very attractive to coyotes as well,and increases the chance of pet/coyote conflict,which most pets will not survive.Coyotes can inflict serious,life threatening harm even to larger pets.Sometimes it's the careless disposal of garbage that attracts coyotes.Cans are not covered or bags are not tied at the top and this qualifies as fine,easy to access cuisine for a hungry coyote.I once awoke to  see a coyote dragging an empty pizza box down the alley,having already consumed whatever contents were left in the box.

There are coyotes  on the golf courses,wandering through the graveyards and even at the airport as well.While these may seem unusual places to find a coyote,they are in fact rather isolated from humans and still provide a lot in terms of food.Certainly at and around Calgary's airport there are abundant colonies of gophers and rabbits.While a coyote may well encounter planes at the airport,they seem to adapt quickly to that danger,while the very nature of an airport dictates that they find little in the way of human harassment.A good friend of mine is a licensed pilot and has landed at Calgary International.On more than one occasion he has told me he has seen coyotes on or near the runways.Having them around though is a good thing,according to him,as they cut down on the population of sometimes troublesome birds.It seems,then that the relationship between man and coyotes can be symbiotic at times.

The last thing a plane passes when it approaches Calgary International from the south is a golf course.I've often seen and heard coyotes from afar as I've walked up McKnight Boulevard,which divides the airport from the golf course,on my way to work in the early mornings.The golf course,very much like the airport can keep coyotes somewhat isolated,especially during the long Canadian winters,while still providing water and food,mostly in the form of a healthy population of rabbits.During the summer months human/coyote encounters can,and do take place on the golf course.I recall a friend of mine saying that he placed his ball on the green with his approach shot,only to have a coyote run up and carry it off,thinking perhaps that it was some sort of egg.Earlier this year,I was working at a new golf course,constructing bunkers.At this particular course they had consulted a wildlife expert who had come out,found,identified and cataloged several coyote dens,so that they could be avoided,and,if necessary relocated.

My next encounter with a coyote was to be a very close, but very brief  one.It happened on a winter's morning in early 2009,along McKnight Boulevard just east of the airport.

 The weather was especially bad on that morning.While is was not really all that cold,it was snowing some and there was ice fog in the air as well. The ceiling at the airport was very low and visibility at street level was less than half a block.It gave me the feeling that I was walking about in an envelope of vapors.The chill in my bones might have been from the air,or it might have been the ghostly atmosphere created by the snow and fog,combined with the fact that my eyes always seem to play tricks on me when I'm walking anyplace close to the airport at night or in the early morning.

After I pass nineteenth street,it was my custom to finish up the last leg of my trip to work by  heading across country,through the corner of a light industrial park.There is a sign there that flashes the time,and,just to the west,a chain link fence.At the the sign,I start up a small berm that leads through the parking lot of a cellular phone company's building.

Just as I passed the fence and was about to make my turn from due east to southeast,the coyote appeared,dead ahead and only a few feet in front of me.

This was not a thin,hungry looking coyote at all.It was not huge,but long and well filled out,with a thick coat and not a hint of mange.It's fur was grizzled with frost,so that it appeared to be made of the winter and it's elements.It's gait was not quite a run,but a smooth,comfortable and confident trot.It's head was cocked slightly toward me,and it's forepaws slightly out of line with its hind feet,giving it the appearance of walking slightly crooked.That walk,along with it's habit of looking back over it's shoulder is what  gives the coyote a sneaky look.But all of the dog tracking and off center body mechanics did nothing to slow this animal down.It gave every indication that it knew exactly where it was going.This was an adult,well fed and in it's prime,very possibly an alpha male or female.If it knew of my presence,and it must have,it gave no indication.In less than a few seconds,it was gone having never broken stride.

I'd always though of coyotes as being a western creature,but that's not exactly true.Old Western movies can stereotype more than just people.The typical image of coyotes are of a creature that sits beside a cactus howling at a full moon.I fact,they inhabit most regions of North America.But,for all the years that I had lived in the east,I'd never seen a coyote or heard of any being around.

In 2009,I visited my home town of Moncton,New Brunswick.Just to the north of Moncton,near the community of Clairville my sisters friends have a large acreage,and there were certainly coyotes there.You simply could not escape their nocturnal singing.While walking along the road in front of the house,I could hear them,and I was certain they were less than a hundred feet away.Yet I had no hope of seeing them in the dark.We awoke next morning to find that they had spent some of the night chasing the horses in the field.The horses are large enough to inflict injury on a coyote,unless one is sick or injured,so they are not really prey.Still,one of the horses had sustained a minor injury.

Coyotes in the east are said to run in packs and ,from the sound of them,that would seem to be true.People also say they are more aggressive than their western counterparts,and,that's because they are believed to have interbred with wolves.On the whole,I cannot say if that is true,but,also while I was back east,an incident took place which would indicate they are indeed aggressive.

While hiking in Cape Breton,a young folk singer from Toronto was attacked by a pack of coyotes and died from her injuries.I'm told she is only the second documented case of coyotes killing people.In the west there seem to be concerns of coyotes carrying off small children.There have been attacks from time to time,and while caution is likely warranted when it comes to children,I believe the danger of being attacked is likely low,based on my own encounters.People back east certainly worry about them though,and perhaps with good reason.

Rightly or wrongly,coyotes have a reputation.They are not really all that far removed from the Big Bad Wolf and all of the connotations that that carries.They may be an efficient cold blooded predator,cunning and resourceful,but they are hardly evil.Everything must eat.Of all of my encounters with coyotes,one of my more recent was very different from all of the others.It happened on an early fall day just a few months ago.

                                                                To Be Continued.

memoir chapter III-continued.

Sometime shortly after we moved to Moncton,we began going to church.Church was a much bigger deal on the mid 1960's than it is today and a great deal more people attended.Town was generally shut down on Sunday as well,though the may have been one or two corner stores still open.

The churches at thsat time were the tallest,most imposing buildings in town,even more imposing than City Hall,as I suppose church ought to be.Downtown,at the corner of Queen and Church Streets,there was a church on each corner,and they were made from stone and looked very old.There was something vaguely scary about huge,old buildings like that.

My mother began to attend Mountain View United Church,at the corner of Connaught and McBeth,and from an early time she would take us along.While she would attend worship services in the church sanctuary we would go to Sunday School in the basement.At the time,I remember,my sister was still in the churches nursery in the corner of the basement.While adult family members heard sermons we were taught the same Bible stories by teachers that our mother read to us before bed at home.

Mountain View United Church was very much unlike the other churches around Moncton,at least in appearance.It had neither steeple nor bell,and,in fact did not reach very high into the sky at all,and did not seem to cast much of a shadow.I often wondered if our church didn't have a bell.how my mother ever knew when it was time to go to church.I guess she would have been slightly embarrassed to admit that her reference in such matters was likely the bell from the Catholic Church.

Mountain View United was not built of stones.Instead,it was a 1960's style modern building of glass and brick and wood.I guess,at the time it was a new concept in church building and it fit right in with the surrounding neighborhood,which featured a profusion of expansive brick houses.The Royal Canadian Mounted Police also had a brick building on the same street,and the Moncton Hospital was a bit farther down the road as well.To me,it was a wonder that,after having constructed the surrounding area,there were any bricks left at all.When my mother or a Sunday School teacher would tell the story of the Children Of Israel being forced to make bricks in Egypt,my mind visualized those bricks going to build all those stylish,upper middle class houses all about our church,rather than pyramids.But our church fit right in with the neighborhood.

Often we would drive to church,but sometimes we would walk,in the spring or fall.It was quite some distance to the church,and there really wasn't all that much to see on the way,so the walk bored me.We would walk down to the end of our own street,then down Mountain Road towards downtown.We passed Mapleton School,then Beaverbrook School right next to Mapleton.Mapleton was a French school and it was made of wood and painted white,so as to almost look more like a church than a school.Beaverbrook was made of,you guessed it,brick.We would pass a store where the Green Gables now stands,but there was not a lot along that streach back then.The Shell carwash and the Mc Donalds were not yet built,though the Fairlanes Bowling Alley was there and there was a gas station on the corner of Killiam and Mountain Road.It was called BA.When we walked to church,that is where we crossed Mountain Road,and it never varied.Sometime I would wonder why we could not walk down the other side of Mountain Road,but we never did.

Just before we got to the church we would pass a business in an old house that sharpened knives and skates and the like.There was also a very strange looking house about two blocks before the church.It was a modern style house,a bungalow,but kind of bent in the middle and it had a wrap around balcony around part of it's upper story.I always though of it as being like a boat.It was a very unique house,and,as it turned out,I was later to find out that the people who lived there were Muslim.I always wondered what it would be like to live in that boat house.

What I know of our church,what I've been told as a child,was that it started out as a tent.I always thought it odd that people would go to church in a tent,and I wondered what it would be like.To my mind a tent was a very small place where,even then I could hardly stand up without touching the roofI truly wondered how my sister and my mother and myself,as well as the minister and all the ushers and Sunday School Teachers and the choir and all of the other people would have ever managed to have church in a tent.The first time you jumped up to shout amen or Halleujah,the whole church would be torn apart,and of course,if it happened to be raining everyone would end up getting baptized.As it turned out,the good folks at Mountain View United seemed to have an aversion to much shouting which was likely just as well.I suppose,though,they likely had erected a much larger tent,something like a circus tent perhaps.

I wondered too why our church was called "Mountain View"And I never did discover the answer.I could,I suppose be a reference to jerusalem,in the sense of The New Jerusalem,or perhaps a reference to Calvary.Or,if you looked far off on the horizon,there was what I suppose you could call a mountain,though it was really just a hill.

And so,at roughly the age of four,church became part of my life and I would continue to attend for decade or more until one day I decided that what I really was was an atheist.When I woke up from my athiest inspired sleep decades later,I opened a Bible to a random page and began reading what turned out to be Psalm 121-"I look unto the mountains,where does my help come from?...

essay-coyotes in calgary

 Princes Island Park is located in the Bow River,between downtown Calgary and the city's North Hill.It is covered with tall trees and crossed by a number of walking trails.In the middle part of the island there is a fashionable,upscale restaurant called The River Cafe,and at the islands west end,there is a large pavilion that plays host to a large folk music festival each summer.Not only is Princes Island a popular recreation destination,but it is traversed daily by hundreds of commuters who travel or bicycle to work.

The eastern tip of Princes Island Park is somewhat less traveled and much less developed.It includes a constructed urban wetland consisting of ponds that are home to large flocks of ducks and geese.Only a stone's throw away is Chinatown,Eau Claire,with it's trendy condos,and the office towers of Downtown.But this small patch of land can seem incredibly far from Downtown,though there is not much more than a narrow river channel in between.

Early on the morning of November 21,2012,I was attracted to this spot by a new fall of snow,thinking that it would be a good opportunity to collect some photographs for this blog.The trees,ponds and river were quite dramatic clothed as they were in winter white,while on the nearby pathways,commuters passed like specters.It was a lovely but frosty and very cold morning.

Then,as I walked eastward among the many sets of tracks in the snow,only one of them human,I noticed a movement in the bush just slightly ahead of me.A coyote  stepped out into my path,glanced briefly in my direction,then,just as quickly ,and without a sound disappeared into the bushes on the other side of the path.It was not the first time I've encountered a coyote here in the city,but I'd never before seen one this close to downtown.

Like many Calgarians,I've come to know the coyote as a familiar,if not a common sight.More than once I've encountered them from only a few feet away.

You might well ask how a coyote would come to be in the heart of one of the largest and busiest urban areas on the Canadian prairies,but,in truth,they are quite common.Calgary,unlike some cities has a lot of wilderness even relatively close to it's downtown core.The Rockies are just to the west and there are two river valley systems which allow coyotes to travel about while avoiding roadways and other highly developed areas.Still,they visit urban areas in most parts of North America,in search of food and,as a species have become rather adaptive and successful.

Rabbits would seem to have been plentiful on Princes Island if the abundance of tracks was any indication,so perhaps that accounts for the coyote as well.Out on the pond,there were the shadowy forms of perhaps sixty ducks and a smaller number of Canada Geese..As the sky was lightening,I noticed that one of the ducks had a pronounced limp.Likely it had tried to land on the pond not realizing that the water was partly frozen over,and had injured itself in a collision with the ice.That might also account for the coyote,as they are known to be opportunistic hunters who will prey on injured animals.

People who are not familiar with coyotes ask me if I'm not afraid of them.The answer is,"not especially."Most of the ones around Calgary are smallish,maybe thirty five or forty pounds,though the occasional one is much bigger.They usually look a lot like a thin,hungry version of a German Shepard and,at times I suspect they are mistaken as exactly that.While I've been told that they run in packs,I've never seen more than one at a time,except of course for the very first one I ever encountered on the way to work one spring morning.

On Calgary's east side,Blackfoot Trail crosses Ogden Road,then bends around to the south,while Ogden Road runs in a generally southerly direction.Between the two roads is an industrial area,with some railroad tracks up on a ridge.Despite the factories and mills,the area is not frequented much by people,especially along the tracks.In 2001,an old rail bridge still  spanned Blackfoot Trail.It was this bridge that I would taske to my job at the IKO mill,which occupied a large site just off Ogden Road.

One May morning,just after the long weekend,I was walking along the tracks as usual when I rounded the slight bend just south of the bridge.And there,standing on the tracks dead ahead was a coyote.I had no idea what this coyote would do,having never seen one so close before.Not wanting to turn back and take the meandering Ogden Road,I decided to press onward,vaguely remembering some radio show advising that if you were to see a coyote,you should stand erect and make yourself look as large as possible,thus establishing yourself as an alpha pack member.Coyotes,it seems perceive people as not humans,but as other canines.At no time should you turn and run,because that is supposed to cause coyotes to perceive you as prey.I have no idea if this is good advice because,in the end I had no need of it.

For a few paces,maybe a hundred or so yards,the coyote just walked on ahead of me,maintaining a distance of about a hundred and fifty feet.Then she slipped down the steep bank into a gully,allowing me to pass.But,just as soon as I did,she came back up the slope and began following me,not seeming in the least disturbed.She remained at exactly the same distance as she had when I had been following her.It did not seem that she was stalking me,as I'm certain that we both knew of each others presence,and moreover,were aware of each others awareness.

For the next quarter mile a nervous sort of a dance took place.I walked on,but occasionally turned back to keep track of my canine companion.Each time I would stop,she would stop as well.If I took one step toward her,she took one step back.When I took a step away from her,she took one toward me.Always and only one exactly measured step.

Farther down the track there is a second rail bridge.When I crossed it I walked on for maybe another hundred yards.To my left was a small truck depot where I normally stepped off the tracks and headed toward the back part of the IKO property where I worked.taking a final look at my companion,and wondering what she would do I stepped down from the tracks to my left.As I did,she likewise stepped down,only she departed to the right,leaving me to wonder what had really happened.What was the point to her very precise choreography?

The very next morning,my companion was waiting at exactly the same time and in exactly the same place.And the dance continued exactly as before,step for step,ending exactly as it had the day before.Measuring me up.I'm sure that's what she was doing.I had no intentions of doing her harm,and in fact was starting to enjoy her company.But I'm sure she didn't know this.It took her a few days to become convinced,and convinced I hope she was.

It wasn't long until I discovered the reason for this creatures behavior-following,not stalking.Just at the point where we had been parting ways each morning,there is a small ,bowl shaped valley,where the tracks and a road meet at a right angle.In the middle of this little hollow,in some tall prairie grass were a couple of large metal oil drums.It was inside one of these drums that she was hiding her family of four,or perhaps five pups.By this time she had stopped following me.For a few days I would set off for work a half hour early so I could stop and watch the pups frolic in the grass.Mama lay at the entrance of her metal den,pretending to rest,while keeping a watchful eye on her young.

Then one morning they were gone.Coyote mothers are known to maintain more than one den,and will often move the pups from one den to another.Perhaps she did this in response to my watching,or perhaps someone else disturbed her.I prefer to think it is just the coyote way of doing things,but,either way I never saw her or her family again


                                                                     To Be Continued.

memoir writers homework-trespassers will be prosecuted

There was a small set of railroad tracks separating our end of town from Centenial Park,in Moncton's west end.But,to get to the park without crossing them involved cycling for miles,way down past the locomotive shops then back.So everyone crossed at the tracks.Just on the other side of those tracks there was miles of hiking or biking trails through the woods,but,of course there was a huge sign saying "trespassers will be prosecuted"It was obviously intended to keep us away,but I don't know if they ever really intended to prosecute anyone.

In those days the tracks were quite busy.But since the Canadian National shops have closed,hardly a train ever passes.Railroads,of course could be dangerous places,and that is likely why the sign was there.You could be killed by trying to race the train,but no one I knew was that stupid.There were some switches on the tracks there,and some kids would play with those while no one was around.That could be dangerous too.In fact,it could cause cars to derail.There always seemed to be boxcars parked there and they acquired graffiti though not nearly as quickly as they would today.Some of the kids said you could hide in the boxcars or even ride them if you stayed inside them for a while.The trouble with that was that they could only go to the shops or the switching yard,neither of which was more than a few blocks away,and you were certain to be caught doing that.One friend told me you could steal dynamite from the cars too,but I never believed that,and I've never known anyone to do it.There was a rumor that a wild man lived near that crossing too,but I never considered that to be much more than a lame attempt to keep younger kids away.There could have been the odd hobo there I guess,but I never saw one.

Like most all the kids around,I just wanted to get to the park without having to go all the way to Timbuktu.So,I would wheel up to the track,jump of my bicycle and carry it across the tracks.If no train was passing,it only took seconds,and if there were a train,I loved to watch the cars go by.It was said that the railway police patrolled the crossing,but I never saw a police car there ever.I was not interested in pulling switches,or riding in boxcars or dynamite.I just wanted to go to the park.I'm sure the police did try to catch kids damaging property,but I never encountered them despite the sign.Maybe I was just lucky,but I never knew or knew of any other kid who encountered them either. 

memoir chapter III-continued

Construction began anew in our subdivision once spring came.And this time it wasn't so much about digging holes as it was about paving them over and completing what had not been finished the year before.The tar truck never came back,as far as I could tell,and,after our misadventure of the summer before,I'm sure that was a relief to my parents.It must have been a bit on the annoying side too,getting your car all covered in fresh oil or tar every time you drove home.

Back in 1965,the construction companies never seemed to take a lot of precautions to make sure their sites were safe,or that they didn't make a huge mess.None of the sites around our house were fenced off and there was a lot of construction junk lying all over the place.We used to play in some of the foundations for the new houses that were going in,and I often wonder why no one was seriously hurt or even killed doing that.When the construction equipment was idle in the evening,some kids would even play on and around that.

The street we lived on was already paved,and had been from the time we moved in.Most of the other streets around were not.During the spring,summer and fall of 1965,a lot of pavement was laid down.Trucks came and went all day and there was a new sort of machine going up and down the streets too.It was a large sort of tractor with a hopper like device in it's front end.Into this hopper,trucks would drop hot pavement,then the tractor would spread it out all over the road surface.Behind would come equipment that would roll the pavement out flat while it was still smoking hot.The whole process involved an incredible amount of heat and foul smelling smoke.For a time the whole area reeked of hot asphalt and oil most of the time,at least during the day.

Once there was even a fire in the paving machine,long after the workers had left for the day.It wasn't a very big fire,but it brought several fire trucks,and every kid for blocks around running.By the time I got there,there didn't seem to be any fire.But it was in the hopper of the paving machine.A bit of asphalt must have been left there and since the machine would stay hot for quite some time it caught fire.In a likelihood it would have just burned itself out,but what better excuse for some kid to pull the handle on the alarm box.

Down at the end of our street,across Mountain Road,there was new development happening too.What had been a field when we moved in  was being turned into a new Kmart store.The construction site seemed enormous,and likely was,for it's time.But in fact, when it was finished it wasn't much bigger than a small strip mall with less than a dozen stores.By today's standards it was small.It opened sometime just before I started school.

In the opposite direction,up the street,work was beginning on a new school.It was to have two wings connected to a central part,and was two stories high.It took up the whole of a city block,on Ayre Avenue,between Crandall and Birchmount Streets.It must have seemed huge to my parents who were used to much smaller communities.My mother had taught school for a while,in a small,one room school house that housed children of all grades.I had been in that school once,and I wouldn't be surprised if it would have fit thirty times into our new school.The fact that we could go to a school without using the bus,and the fact that there would be no outdoor plumbing at this school were likely huge selling points when it came time for my parents to decide where to buy a home.

Our subdivision was called the Birchmount and the new school was to be called Birchmount School,after the street of the same name.Except that Birchmount Street wasn't yet completed.There were a few older houses at it's far end,then rows and rows of new but unfinished houses streachin the four or so blocks to the school.Moreover,construction on Ayre Avenue had just started,and only on one side of the street.Once they started building the houses on Birchmount,the subdivision came together quickly,though it took longer to complete Ayre Avenue.All of that started happening about a year after we moved to town.