Stick in hand, I look like a mad conductor or an angry old lady. I’m ready to scold little kids. No kids, but there are coyotes lurking around every tree. It’s dark. I skim the stick along the wire fence surrounding the tennis courts, ‘whaaa, whaaa, whaaa!’ yelling as I run. Being loud and waving a stick gives me confidence to venture into the darkness.
Early Morning Sky over Stanley Park
I’m not paranoid. I’ve seen 3 beasts (coyotes) in the last few months. Fine, they didn’t chase me or look aggressive, but they could have attacked. Since they’re not being fed by dumb people anymore, they roam aimlessly through the park. But still, my advice is to stay alert and run like a ninja.
Run Past the Tennis Courts
Dark, darker, darkest – I see a shape in the trees – bigger than a coyote, a bear? I wave my stick behind me (I hate the thought of getting bit on the ankle) and shout. Nothing appears. I hear something. I swivel my head over my shoulder. I turn back as a tiny sparrow flits across my path. It sounded bigger.
My fear will not overtake me. I suck it up, face the coyote menace and continue running the seawall – ‘nature’s treadmill’ – designed for brave runners (who are too cheap to get a gym membership).
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