Meditations on Being Prey...

Last night after dinner we were out in the yard working in the camper. We're taking it for its first outing of the season tomorrow, spending the Fourth of July holiday at a state preservation that's on the beach and has their own fireworks display. We did it last year, and aside from it being like 50º and chilly it was great - we put our camp chairs in the bed of the pickup, backed into a space overlooking the beach, and watched the fireworks in bug-free comfort. Since the camper hadn't been run since last summer, we wanted to hook up the water and clear out the lines, checking for leaks, etc. and generally make sure that nothing was out of place (oddly enough, it seems fine).

I emptied the grey water tank - which had only fresh water in it - out in the backyard by the edge of the field behind us. It took three trips (we ran the water a lot just to be sure), and on the second and third trip I thought I heard something in the bushes. I didn't think too much about it, because the woods behind our house are filled with deer, woodchucks, rabbits, and other assorted wildlife. There's always some little critters scurrying around, so I shrugged off the feeling and went about my business. Finished puttering around the yard watering plants and such, then went back in the house just as dusk finished falling.

Five minutes later, I get a call from my mom (we live next door to my folks). "Look out your back window." Sure enough, a coyote was sitting on the edge of the property where the tall grass behind us starts, about twenty feet from where I'd been dumping out the water. It wasn't a groundhog or a rabbit that I'd heard rustling in the field, it was what eats 'em for breakfast... While coyotes won't generally attack a human - especially a full grown male - there's no accounting for hunger or disease; I patted the .38 in my pocket for good measure.

Listen to that voice in the back of your head. When it's talking to you, there's a reason for it - we didn't survive for hundreds of thousands of years out of happenstance. For many thousands of years, we relied on that little voice - and our ability to make and use tools - to stay alive in a land of toothed, clawed, and stronger animals. We lack the protective armor of the rhino, or the sharp teeth of the wolf, or the razor-sharp claws of the tiger. Heck, we can't even climb trees like our simian brothers. We stay alive using our wits and our tools.

My lesson at the edge of the woods applies to the concrete jungle as well. That little voice in the back of your head doesn't take a rest simply because you're surrounded by asphalt and steel. It continues to shout out warnings whenever predators are near, and predators come in many shapes and sizes - from the coyote driven by hunger out of the safety of the woods into the open of a back yard to a meth head intent on using the contents of your wallet for his next fix. That little voice tells you not to go down that alley, or park in that dark lot, or walk alone through the less-patrolled section of town. Listen to that little voice.

And carry your guns...

That is all.