The Healer (21 page)

"I saw the coyote carrying food there. That old fellow must be getting careless. I could have sworn he knew that I was following him, yet he went straight to the den and left a woodchuck right at the mouth. Billy, I'm going to have to gas that den."

Billy nearly told him to gas all he wanted to, but he restrained himself. He felt a moment of panic, wondering if Wolf had left the den under the fallen beech and moved to this new spot. Why else would he be carrying food there? But he was sure that the family had not moved— only the day before he had seen them near the beech den and the half-grown pups seldom used any den now. So he only said, "Why tell me?"

"I want you to know what I'm going to do and I want you to realize why I have to do it. I'm not a monster, Billy. When those coydogs get big enough, they'll start killing stock. You know that, don't you?"

"Wolf and Blackie aren't killing any stock. It was the dogs."

"Now, Billy, you know they take chickens and they've killed sheep."

"Not many."

"What about the people who own that stock. Haven't they got any rights?"

Billy was silent.

"When these coydogs grow up, they'll form a pack and then there really will be trouble. Can't you see that?"

Billy pretended to be persuaded. "Well, I guess you're right. I guess you'll have to gas that den."

Stoltzfoos was silent for a time. "Are you going to go there and scare them off like you did last time?"

"No, sir, I promise. I won't do a thing."

The warden rose slowly. "I know you've something in mind. I came up here to talk to you and try to get you to see things my way. I wish there was something else I could do, but there isn't. I'm sorry for those pups, and if you have any ideas how to save them without letting them run loose, I'll listen to you."

"No, my uncle says the same thing. I guess it's got to be done."

"I'm afraid you don't really mean that. Anyhow, you promise you won't interfere?"

"I promise."

"Good. And don't forget, Billy, if I can help you in any way, you let me know. I'm not here to kill animals; I'm trying to help them—only sometimes you don't have any choice."

Billy watched him go and when the man was well away, the boy cut across the ridge to the beech root den. He moved slowly and called. There was a frightened crashing in the bushes as the pups ran off, and then he saw Blackie. The dog came toward him with wagging head and dancing motion of forepaws but would not let the boy touch her. There was no sign of Wolf.

Well, at least the family had not moved to the sycamore den. Billy went down the ridge to the swamp and followed the path around the marsh until he came to the sycamore. There was the woodchuck, now surrounded by a halo of buzzing blow flies, and beside it a Muscovy duck, freshly killed. As the Muscovy was a domestic duck and must have been taken from some farmer's barnyard, Billy threw it into the bushes so the warden would not see it. Then he started back to the farm. He was confused and told Abe Zook what had happened.

The old man gave a satisfied chuckle. "That Jim Stoltzfoos is not a fool, I give him that, but he is not so smart after all. I tell you, boy, a wolf will do that—sometimes a fox also. He takes food to an empty den to fool a man who is following him."

"Are they really that smart?"

"Well, that is hard saying. They make many dens; maybe for fun, maybe so if something happens they have a place to move the family. By now, the wolf is used to taking food to a den, so maybe by now it is a habit. Maybe he had the food in his mouth and was taking it to his family when he found the man was following him, so he took it to an empty den instead and left it. Still, that is fooling the man, is it not?"

The next evening Billy saw where the warden had dug out the den under the sycamore and wondered what the man had thought when he found it had not been occupied. Meanwhile, Billy had several chances of watching Wolf and Blackie teaching the pups how to hunt. The pups were almost as big as their parents by now, and it seemed to Billy high time that they learned how to shift for themselves. Apparently the pups did not agree with him. They were quite content to allow Wolf and Blackie to supply them with food.

The coydogs were impetuous and charged straight on at anything they saw. Billy began to realize for the first time how closely Wolf and Blackie had learned to work together and how dependent they were on each other. Except for mice, which were Wolf's specialty, nearly all the game they caught was taken by one animal driving the quarry toward the other. It was usually Blackie who did the driving while Wolf waited in ambush. Billy guessed that this was partly because Blackie could trail better than Wolf and partly because the coyote was better at hiding.

When Wolf ran, he seemed to Billy to go swifter than thought, but the boy came to realize that the coyote was not especially fast as wild animals go. He could not run down a rabbit in a straightaway race. Usually he did not even try. The rabbits laid up in forms in the open meadows, and if Wolf or Blackie happened to put one up, they would make no attempt to chase the bunny, only checked the form. The rabbit usually returned to the form later and, perhaps the next day., the pair would hunt the same meadow. When they approached the form, Wolf would swing away and take his stand along the route where the rabbit had run the previous day. When he was well hidden, Blackie would openly trot toward the form. When the rabbit bolted, she would give chase to make sure that the rabbit's attention was focused on her. Often the rabbit would run right into Wolf's waiting jaws.

They used a similar technique to catch woodchucks. They knew where all the woodchuck dens were in their range. The groundhogs had little fear, because they could always dive down their holes, so they would often sit up on their hind legs and chatter as the dog and the coyote went past. Only if the canines came too close would a chuck go down his hole, and then the fat, brown rodent would reappear in a few seconds when he thought the hunters had gone by.

Wolf and Blackie knew all about the chucks' habits. One evening Billy saw Blackie crossing a field of clover by herself. It was so unusual for the dog to be out alone that the boy stopped to watch. Blackie walked very casually past a hole where a particularly bad-tempered chuck lived. The chuck sat on his mound of earth, cursing her, but when the dog came closer, the chuck discreetly retreated into the hole. Instantly Wolf broke from a tangle of honeysuckle, and running softly and lightly, crouched down among the clover a few feet from the hole while Blackie continued on her way. As soon as the dog had passed, the chuck stuck his head out of the hole. Seeing the retreating form of the dog, he came out all the way and sat up, scolding as usual. Billy could see the clover tremble slightly as Wolf came closer. Then there was a sudden rush. As usual when Wolf made his attack,

Blackie promptly wheeled around and came rushing over in case she might be needed, but Wolf had the chuck by the back of the neck, and her help was not necessary.

The pups either could not or would not learn teamwork. They seemed to have no patience. Billy had the idea that both Wolf and Blackie were growing increasingly worried about them. Before she had gone wild, Blackie had probably been trained by a man and was used to obeying orders. When she took up with Wolf, she had simply transferred her loyalty from the owner to the coyote and accepted him as leader. The pups would obey neither their father nor their mother. They were fast becoming very powerful animals, and Billy wondered if even Wolf was not secretly afraid of them. Even though they were unable to catch food for themselves, the pups seemed to be growing increasingly contemptuous of their parents. They accepted the food that Wolf and Blackie brought in as their right and clearly felt that the older animals had no function except to support them. Angrily, Billy wondered why the coydogs could not realize that someday they would have to be on their own, and if they did not learn the skills that would enable them to survive in the wild, they would be helpless.

To Billy, the coydogs seemed simply stupid and selfish. He would have liked to have talked to Abe Zook or even the game warden about them, but he knew that both men were convinced that the coydogs would grow up to be a menace and, to Billy, this was unfair. He did not know that both men had seen coydogs before and realized the problem. Feral dogs are large, powerful animals who require a great deal of food and must therefore pull down large game. To do this, they hunt in packs. The only such quarry available in Pennsylvania were deer, and in the wilder parts of the state, packs of dogs gone wild do great destruction among the deer herds. In more settled areas, there are not enough deer to provide food for them and they must turn to killing livestock.

Coyotes have a much more varied diet than dogs and in summer, at least, much of their food is vegetable. They are expert at catching small game, which dogs cannot do. Blackie would have been unable to shift for herself without Wolf's help in providing her with meat. The coydogs were neither stupid nor selfish. Their dog blood had made them larger and more aggressive than Wolf and their instinct was to hunt in a pack, pulling down large game rather than picking up mice and rabbits. They were simply incapable of learning to hunt like their father, and their inexperience and size gave them a confidence that could easily turn into pointless destruction.

In spite of their devotion, Wolf and Blackie were beginning to show signs of irritation with their overbearing offspring. They went hunting by themselves more and more, and frequently did not bother to bring back food for the coydogs. Now, Billy felt, the coydogs would begin to see the error of their ways and settle down to learning hunting skills. One, indeed, did. He was the runt of the litter and perhaps for that reason had always stayed closer to his parents than did the others. The other pups ignored and even bullied him, but to Billy, he seemed the smartest of the lot. As far as Billy could tell, the Runt was the first of the litter to make a kill.

Wolf was especially skilful at catching Canada geese. There were scores of geese in the marsh and they kept the meadow around it as closely clipped as sheep would have. They had become more wary now and would not allow themselves to be herded by Blackie. At the first sign of her, they took to the air and flew, rather than walked, to the safety of the pond. Billy thought that the flock was now safe, but Wolf knew of another trick and one evening Billy saw him use it.

Billy was wading along the edges of the swamp with a net and a bucket collection of snails, newts, and tadpoles which Abe Zook would sell to pet stores. He kept a lookout for water plants such as water milfoil, ditchmoss and fanwort, also in demand by aquarists. He heard the alarm honk of the geese and looked up in time to see a score of the big birds come dropping in, with curved wings and their webbed feet thrown out before them as they hit the water. Billy expected to see Blackie, but instead it was Wolf trotting down to the swamp very casually. So open was the coyote's behavior that Billy thought he was only coming to drink. An instant later he saw Blackie sitting on a little hill in plain sight. Clearly the two animals were not hunting that evening, but Billy was surprised that Blackie was not at her usual place by Wolf's side. Of the pups, there was no sign.

Wolf made no attempt to drink. Instead, he rolled on his back in the soft mud, rubbing with his shoulders, and then started to play with his bushy tail. The geese watched him, as surprised as Billy. Then Wolf grabbed a stick, tossed it into the air, caught it, and rolled on the stick. Fascinated, the geese swam closer. Wolf spun around in a circle, trying to catch his tail, then fell down and lay like a puppy with all four feet in the air. The geese were now within a few yards of the playful coyote, but Wolf still ignored them. He turned over and began to dig in the sand, sending up a shower of mud and stones. The geese were now only a few feet from him. A few of them swam around the others to see better, almost coming ashore but keeping a respectable distance from Wolf. If the coyote did decide to attack, it would only require a few strokes of their powerful feet to take them into deep water again.

Billy saw a brown streak flash out of the cattails and hurl itself at the nearest goose. The boy was almost as startled as the geese, who fled, honking with terror, beating with their wings in their rush to reach the deep water. One was too late. Billy saw that Runt had the bird by the wing and was hanging on for dear life. The goose was dragging the little coydog into the swamp but Wolf, who had been lying on his back patting at his tail, flipped himself onto his feet and rushed in. He got the goose by the neck and held him until Blackie rushed down and finished the business.

So at last the pups are learning to hunt, thought Billy, but it was only the Runt who showed any aptitude. The rest still expected to be fed. Often Billy saw the Runt out hunting with Blackie but even the Runt, like the other coydogs, avoided Wolf. Wolf was a disciplinarian. When annoyed, he would spin around like a released spring and slash savagely with his canines. And Wolf was not always right, as Billy was regretfully forced to admit. Wolf seldom bothered to follow a trail, either because he simply did not have a very good nose or because it was not his style of hunting. The Runt had an excellent nose, probably inherited from his mother, and enjoyed following trails.

One morning, while Billy was checking his snares, he saw a frightened rabbit tearing at full speed across a field, headed straight for the hedgerow where Billy had set one of his snares at the mouth of a run. In its fright, the rabbit made no attempt to check the tunnel as a wise rabbit usually did, but plunged straight in. Billy heard its squeal as the noose tightened and then the sound of its kicking hind legs, which gradually died away as the rabbit strangled. Billy was wondering what had frightened the rabbit when he saw Wolf, Blackie, and Runt come loping across the field. When they crossed the rabbit's line, Blackie and Runt stopped dead as though they had run into a brick wall and began casting around.

Wolf kept straight ahead and then, seeing that the other two were not following him, gave an irritated yap. At the command, Blackie at once left the rabbit's trail and came running, but the Runt continued to follow it out. He lost the line once, picked it up again, and then went in a direct line for the tunnel in the hedgerow. When he was a few yards away, Billy saw him lift his head and knew by his actions that the Runt had air-scented the dead rabbit hanging there. He started for it, but suddenly Wolf was on top of him. The coyote furiously slashed the pup until the little fellow yelped in pain. Limping, he left the rabbit to follow his father. Wolf had indeed taught the pup obedience, but Billy felt sure that the Runt knew well that he was right and Wolf was wrong and that the knowledge rankled.