814 Life-histories of Northern Animals 



The voice of the Coyote is one of its most remarkable 

 gifts. Barking is supposed to be Hmited to the dog and Coyote. 

 This is not strictly true, for Wolves, Foxes, and Jackals bark at 

 times, but it is true that the Coyote is the only wild animal that 

 habitually barks. 



We must assume, as general propositions, that nothing in 

 nature is without adequate cause, and that it is always worth 

 while to search that out. Most of the many calls of the 

 Coyote are signals to its companions, but some of them seem 

 to be the outcome of the pleasure it finds in making a noise. 

 The most peculiar of its noises is the evening song, uttered 

 soon after sunset, close to camp. This is a series of short 

 barks, increasing in power and pitch till it changes into a long 

 squall. One Coyote begins and immediately two or more 

 join in, making so much noise that newcomers think there 

 must be a hundred Wolves out there. It is kept up for perhaps 

 a minute or two, then ceases till some new impulse seizes them. 

 August 27, 1904, in W. F. White's menagerie at Winnipeg, I 

 saw a Coyote pup, which, though little bigger than a house cat, 

 and less than three months old, had a fully developed voice, 

 and, much to the amusement of numerous bystanders, joined 

 in the yapping chorus as lustily as his grown-up relatives. 



Another note I have heard them utter towards dawn is a 

 long, smooth sound, of truly musical quality. I have some- 

 times mistaken it for the fluty call of a loon to his mate. 



I once knew a Coyote that would stay around the ranch 

 till the small dog went valiantly after it. The Coyote would 

 run till at a distance that made it safe from guns, then turn on 

 the dog and drive him back ignominously to the shelter of the 

 house. Of course, the dog soon learned that the enemy was 

 not so 'easy' as he looked. 



On each occasion when the Coyote turned, he uttered a 

 series of gurgling, growling barks, that seemed to strike terror 

 into the dog, and were to me an entirely new Coyote 'song.' 



The sound the old one utters when the young are in 

 danger is described by A. S. Barton as a loud, short, rough 

 squall. 



