Howling

The coyotes are howling.  Boy, that is one crazy sound.  The dog has his ears laid back, but hasn't moved from the bed he chose for himself at Petco today.  I had set it down next to the sliding glass door.  He has a worried look on his face.  I think he'd be more comfortable if I closed the glass. 

I have heard them race across the deck there.  The moon was full one night when I woke to them rumbling across, then, within minutes, they were howling.  At first, I went out on the deck to listen in amazement.  Then, the hairs stood up on my arms and at the back of my neck.  They didn't change their tone, but I couldn't get over how they were so close. I carefully went back inside, though I left the door open just a little so I could still hear.  I felt a need to answer their call.

I am amazed, when I listen to their voices, how one will sing and others, from places near and fall around the house, will reply.  Very literally, they surround the house.  I feel secure inside, but it's a thrill anyway. Their voices are so human.  Sometimes it sounds as though they're laughing.  At others, it's a song. I read that they howl to reassemble their pack after a hunt and to warn other packs away.

I don't know.  I think they howl to claim my yard away from me, to tell me their forest is a wild place.  I can't settle with that sound all around me.  I think they howl to say the night is clear.  It seems that I hear them most often when the moon is full and it's cool and dry out.  I think they howl for the joy of it. 

That's why I'd howl.

Thank you for listening, jb