Dear Coyote Pups,

I was, to be perfectly blunt, shocked and awed to walk up on your home that day. I have spent countless hours wandering the woods of Jefferson County, Indiana and have never once encountered something like this. Let me tell you the tale:

It was the perfect day. Mid 60s, blue skies, light breeze, and had recently rained. Everything was fresh and clean and Spring had, officially, Sprung. The warm temps and recent rain made it an optimal time to hunt for morel mushrooms. Despite the fact that we hadn’t had enough warm days to really be sure they would have sprouted, my best friend and I were convinced we were going to find some. Nay, we were convinced we were going to find hundreds. THOUSANDS EVEN! His young son was in tow and I was going to wow him with my woodsman prowess.

“That’s a fiddlehead fern! You can eat them when they’re still all curled up. That’s a Devil’s Urn mushroom. If you eat that you’ll die. That’s a rock!”

We had been walking for about 45 minutes when two things happened, simultaneously:

1. My best friend’s son declared, “I’m bored! Can I get in the creek?”
2. My best friend declared, “This is [EXPLETIVE DELETED]! Where are all the mushrooms?!”

So now I had a bored 6 year old on my hands, a frustrated 36 year old on my hands, and a burning desire to find a patch of morels for the first time in 2014 before my wife (who, if you didn’t know, is like a mushroom magnet). The heat, as Glenn Frey likes to say, was on. Except it wasn’t. I knew, you see, that the night time temps had been too low recently for good mushroom sprouting conditions. I knew that the area we were looking in was getting a little more sun than they usually liked. I knew, Coyote Pups, that this was going to be a fruitless search.

But I’m Elijah. Do I give up when the situation is hopeless? NO!

Do I avoid a fight just because I know I’m going to lose? NO!

Do I quit performing an activity just because all empirical data and observable evidence says that it is pointless and a true waste of time? NO!

I ignored the kid (who promptly defeated the purpose of his rubber boots by getting in water so deep it went over the tops and flooded his feet), made fun of my friend, and trekked on.

Another thirty minutes had gone by. I had collected perhaps a hundred fiddlehead ferns, just to have something to show for my efforts. I was telling knock-knock jokes to my friend’s son to keep him occupied. That’s when I saw what was sure to be a perfect place for mushroom growth. A giant oak tree, at least 50 feet tall, had fallen over. The area was slightly distressed, there were a few puddles nearby indicating low drainage and moist soil, and the other trees nearby had budded out already, creating a large canopy of shade. The mushrooms were going to be there. I knew it.

I. KNEW. IT.

The tree was about 50 feet away and I called up the troops!

Eli: Hey guys! Over there! That’s where we’re going to find them!

Eli’s Best Friend: If you find some before me, I’m going to knee cap you and leave you here while I eat all of the mushrooms.

Eli’s Best Friend’s Son: ORANGE YOU GLAD I DIDN’T SAY BANANA?!

They made their way over and just as they got close to me I heard a weird noise. Now, Coyote Pups, you should know that I have preternatural hearing. I’m still subject to not hearing things when I’m distracted or if there’s a loud noise right next to my head, but otherwise I can hear things most other people would register as white noise, at best. This noise I heard was a bit further back in the woods, off to the right a little bit, and it sounded like a dog yelping, but trying to whisper. It was a very strange noise, to me.

E: You hear that?

EBF: Hear what?

E: That noise. Like a whispering dog.

EBF: Like a –? Why am I friends with you, freak?

E: Because I buy beer?

EBF: Yes. Yes, that’s it.

EBF’sS: Because I had said banana so many times before. Get it?

The noise happened again, but this time it was followed by a weird mewling sound. I was freaking out. My senses simply do not lead me astray. If I heard weird noises and I get a pinpoint on their location, then there is something there. I was in the woods. I knew where the louder noise was coming from. I knew where I was in relation to the house we started from. I knew where the highway was and that the noise did not come from that direction. But what was it? And what was that weird, second sound? The whispering dog came again and was immediately followed by the mewling. My buddy and his son were discussing the relative merits of playing in the creek and the general point of wearing rubber boots but I had basically deleted their sounds from my brain. I was focused. I was zen. Everything went away but those two sounds.

The second sound was coming from… below me?

That didn’t make sense. I looked straight down. Solid ground. I tracked up slowly until I saw the fallen tree, 30 feet away. Nothing there. I walked towards the tree, eyes down.

Whispering dog. Louder. More energetic.

Mewling. Lackadaisical. Unconcerned. Sleepy?

10 feet from the tree, I’m scanning the ground when I hear something moving off in the brush. The mewling sound was practically right next to me and then I saw what was causing it.

You three cute little pups, snuggled in a cuddle puddle in a burrow I assume your mother had made for you under the oak tree.

“HOW AWESOME IS THIS?!” I thought. “Coyote pups! The wife will never believe this!”

And then, of course, that weird buzzing in the back of my head starts. I affectionately refer to it as my Spidey Sense but, in fact, it’s my brain’s way of cramming information to the front of the queue after I’m already in danger. I was taking pictures when it occurred to me.

Whispering dog is not a whispering dog at all.

Whispering dog is Mama Coyote.

You have a six year old with you and you are armed with an iPhone and a small pocket knife. Your friend is essentially worthless unless you trip him to distract the coyote and save yourself and the kid. Ugh. But then you’ve got to be responsible for the kid and explain to everyone what happened and all that jazz. Why not just leave?

Right now.

Very swiftly.

E: Welp! No mushrooms here. Better go. See ya!

EBF: Quitter.

EBF’sS: It’s okay about my boots. I have more socks.

I pointed out the pups, the two of them looked and thought it was cool. I watched as my friend went through the same thing I did. I could almost hear his thoughts.

“Coyote pups. That’s cool. Kid’ll probably never get to see that again. How’d he hear that. Kid… Hmmm… Why is that important? The kid… The kid has a mom. The pups have a mom. Ohhhhhhhhhh…”

EBF: Okay, kid, time to go!

He scooped him up and we were off. After a few minutes we calmed down and resumed our leisurely pace, secure in our knowledge that, since we couldn’t see them, the coyote’s couldn’t see us. Men’s brains in the woods are very much akin to that of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal. No link. You should know what that is. We went about our day and you, Coyote Pups, were free to sleep out the day in peace.

Of course, when I got home I was immediately set upon by my wife wife a flurry of smacks and kicks and was told that I was never to return home from a trip in the woods without coyote pups.

Happy Earth Day.

Love,

Elijah