Surrounded by ice-crystal aura, the full moon tonight lent its glow to the snow.
My big dog and I stood in that light as coyotes howled in the distance.
My big dog and I stood in that light as coyotes howled in the distance.
I remembered reading somewhere that, when coyotes howl on such nights, they don't actually howl at the moon. When the moonlight brightens the dark forest floor, it's a good night for gathering food, and they howl to communicate with each other, to form groups for night hunting forays.
My dog didn't add his own howl to that splendid night chorus. The howls of the unseen coyotes had frozen him into a silence I hadn't expected.
Standing beside him, I found myself wondering why; and what he might do if I raised my own howl upward under that moon.
But I didn't.
Maybe next time.
Maybe next time.
