The snow was bright and the air was clear as we drove. As we circled Emerald Bay, I saw a coyote standing proudly on a hilltop watching the cars go by. "Karen, quick! Grab the camera!" I slammed on the brakes and nearly caused a wreck. While Karen looked for the camera, the screeching brakes of the cars honking behind me forced me to drive on. It was about five minutes before I could circle around and get back to where the coyote was. Of course, he was gone by the time I got there.
There was a turnoff that led away from the highway into the woods behind the coyote's hilltop perch, so down it we went. We strained our eyes peering into woods as we drove by, looking for anything vaguely coyote-like. "Is that it? What? That gray lump. What gray lump?" And so on. Of course, the coyote could have been standing right in front of us, and we wouldn't have seen him from the car.
While the highway had been nicely plowed, this side road was not. After a few minutes, I began to worry about getting stuck. When it became apparent that we were not going to find the coyote, I started to make a three-point turn to turn around. Pulling out of the second point, the wheels just spun in the snow. We were stuck. The open area I was turning around in was slanted and the back wheels slid downhill.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" I said as I spun the wheels again. We were still stuck. Karen and I got out of the car to see if we could free it. I tried pushing the car while Karen drove, to no avail. As I looked around for something to jam under the wheel to get traction, a gray dog came up the road and went over to the wheel where I had been pushing. (I do know the difference between dogs and coyotes; this was clearly a dog. What we had seen before was certainly a coyote.)
"Oh look, Karen. The dog wants to help me push the car. Don't you, boy?" When I said this, the dog looked at me and then lifted his leg. I stared in shock as the dog peed on the car. "Karen!" I pointed. "That damn dog just peed on my car! On my car!" Talk about adding insult to injury. The dog easily retreated to a safe distance as I ran at it. Oh well.
I went back into the trees and got a branch to jam under the wheel. No luck. The branch just flew out behind the tire. Branch and pushing? Again, no luck, although the branch nearly impaled my leg. As I looked at the muddy snow around the wheels, I knew I would have to put on the snow chains. Okay, I got the chains out of the trunk. Hoping to roll in the muddy snow as little as possible, I just put one chain on the stuck wheel. No luck. Chain, branch and pushing? Sorry, not today....
As I was going through the permutations with the other back wheel, Karen called me over. "Andy, what is that dog doing?" I looked. The dog was across the road staring at a snow bank. Then it would pounce on the bank, dig frantically for a moment, and then go back to staring. It did this several times. "How should I know?" I replied. "Maybe there are snow mice in the bank and it's hungry. After all, that damned coyote must eat something!" "Snow mice? I suppose..." Karen sounded doubtful.
I went back to the car. Two chains, three chains, four; with and without branches and pushing. At two chains, we ate through the snow to the frozen rocks and dirt. Sparks flew out from where the chains hit the rocks and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. At three chains, the car rocked forward and back, but not enough to get out of the trench. Four chains, no luck, agghhh!
I heard Karen again. "Andy, this dog is weird! Look at it." I looked back at the dog. The dog was in the road, repeatedly pouncing on a snowball about the size of a volleyball. "There just might have been `snow mice' in that bank," Karen said, "but there are certainly no `snow mice' inside that snowball." I wondered about that, but decided to ignore it.
Now, all the chains were on the car and we were still stuck. I looked around, frantically, for anything else I could possibly jam under the wheels and avoid hiking miles through the snow to find a pay phone and call AAA. There were trees, branches and snow; no big rocks or boards or anything. Branches, snow, nothing else. And I had already tried the branches. That left snow. What a stupid idea! You can't get traction on snow. I looked around again. That dog was still pouncing on his snowball. Okay, okay, I'm desperate; I'll try the snow.
I went over and got the snowball from the dog. It was pretty big. I took it back and jammed it under the wheel. Karen hit the gas while I pushed. The wheels spun and the chained wheel ate through the snowball. One quarter of the way through, halfway, two thirds, and then the wheel caught. Sparks flew up as the car shot forward into the road and we were free!
I danced and cheered and looked around for the dog whose snowball had saved us. The dog was standing a ways down the road watching me. He met my eyes, gave one slow nod of his head, turned and walked away. Then it hit me. That was Coyote! I don't mean a random coyote by the road, but Coyote Himself, the Trickster! It all made sense now. As a coyote, He had shown himself to us. Did I pay proper respect to Him? No. All I could think of was the camera and not missing the photo opportunity. For my impudence, He led us into the woods and got us stuck. Then He came back to watch the fun.
He came back as a dog because He knew that if I had gotten a picture of Him as a coyote, I would not have cared what had happened to the car. Then He showed me just what He thought of cars. After letting me suffer a while, He showed us how to escape from His trickster trap. It was just a little trick to pay for a little disrespect, but He made His point. I'm not sure I understand what it all means, but I know that now I have a much greater respect for Coyote and the ways of the Trickster.
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