There was a coyote in my yard this morning. It was sniffing the air and searching for breakfast in the pre-dawn light. I’ve never before seen a coyote so close to my house, but I think I’ll be seeing more of them soon: I’ve changed my diet to include rotisserie chicken from Walmart. Lunch or dinner might be half a chicken, a handful of Triscuits, and a sliced apple. Easy and cheap, but healthy.
I always share my leftovers with the raccoons. I take the chicken bones outside to the cement sidewalk that leads to my gravel driveway, and usually by morning the bones have completely vanished.
But I made a mistake last night. There was a lot of chicken fat in the bottom of the plastic container, and I thought the raccoons might enjoy the extra treat. Well, they certainly did. They woke me up about five times during the night trying to salvage every last drop of grease. I don’t know why, but that plastic container scraping across the cement sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard in the middle of the night.
I’m thinking the chicken fat is what attracted the coyote. The human equivalent is like when you drive past a bakery and then turn the car around to go back and buy a donut. The aroma just draws you in.