Missing, Presumed Eaten

I hate to say it, but I don't think Leo is coming back.

Leo's a male Yorkshire terrier, and his name is scrawled on a large, neon poster taped to the streetlight down at the corner. The Yorkie joins a pair of Lhasa apsos and at least a brace of beloved cats in the neighborhood's milk carton gallery. All this in the past couple of weeks.

I'm pretty sure we're not dealing with a ring of sneaky, sadistic pet thieves. What all these animals have in common are two things: size (small, some might even say "snack" size) and proximity to one or or more of the floodplain greenbelts in the area.

While walking Pete over the weekend, Tamara met a neighbor walking her own dog, and she mentioned that she's been hearing coyotes lately.

Lately? I've heard them off and on since we moved in last summer.

A study in Chicago found that domestic cats make up only a bit more than one percent of urban coyotes' diets; small rodents top the list for prairie wolves in the city, just as they do in rural areas, followed by fruit and deer (each coming in at less than a quarter of the food items found in coyote scat). According to this study, coyotes ate more grass than cats.

In Los Angeles County, local authorities warn residents to keep their cats indoors: "Keep small pets (cats, rabbits, small dogs) indoors. Don't allow them to run free at any time. They are easy, favored prey. Some coyotes hunt cats in residential areas. "

What everyone agrees on is that coyotes are among the most adaptable predators in the world, and there are more now -- in more places -- than there were 200 years ago, despite extensive efforts to control the species.

Coyotes breed in Feb. and March, giving birth to litters of 3-12 pups about two months later. So, we're entering the high food demand period for the wild dogs -- a time when kitties and ankle-nippers look particularly tasty.

Pets are definitely on the menu in Austin.

Here's one of my favorite news ledes ever, in a recent Austin American-Statesman story by Claire Osborne:

Thor, a Chihuahua, barked as he charged out to his Shoal Creek backyard about 3 a.m. on a January morning. That was the last time his owner, Kay Aielli, saw him.

Maybe it's just the juxtaposition of that name, Thor, and the word chihuahua.

In the same story, Randy Farrar, a biologist with the Texas Agrilife Extension Service -- Wildlife Services (and all-around okay guy), joined a City of Austin animal services official in blaming an abundance of available pet food for the recent rash of puppy snatchings in central Austin.

Farrar agreed, saying that coyote droppings he recently found in the area were "100 percent pet food."

"The last coyote I caught was a female on Feb. 19 that weighed 33 pounds, which is pretty large," Farrar said. "She looked well-fed."

Well, yeah ... Chihuahuas can go, what, 7-10 pounds apiece? I guess the definition of "pet food" depends on how you parse those sentences.

Rest in peace, little Leo. And Thor. And Mr. Jingles.

But don't blame the coyotes. They're just doing what they do -- what they've always done -- and we've only made it easier for them, bringing the supermarket to their doorsteps.

[Okay, just so you know, I don't really think it's funny that anyone has lost a beloved family pet. The little girl who knocked on our door, passing out flyers asking for information on her cat, was near tears, three days after the feline disappeared. And I love dogs. I love big dogs more, and Pete's a brute so I don't much worry about him getting snatched, but I do love dogs. I do think it's rather amusing that folks are actually shocked that coyotes are prowling our neighborhoods and preying on animals smaller than them. They're, you know, predators. Second photo by Steve Jurvetson. Photos licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 License]

Worldwide Celebrity!

So, before I took a weeklong sabbatical from the office to work on my captain's license, I get an e-mail out of the blue (the color of my email background page) from Simon Busch of the Financial Times. Of London.

It's sort of like ... The Wall Street Journal of Europe. Maybe bigger.

Simon writes a column for that paper called "Outside Space," and he'd been reading this blog and wanted to conduct a phone interview for an upcoming article on wildscaping.

Once we finally connected, I think Simon was a bit disappointed the most exotic wildlife we've seen yet was a couple of raccoons. I assured him we've heard coyotes and that a mountain lion is not completely out of the question.

I'm pretty sure he's the first journalist to tell me an article will appear "a fortnight Saturday." That's, um, "two weeks from Saturday" in Texan. This coming Saturday, in fact.

At any rate, it was fun to be on the interviewee end of the arrangement for once, not talking about dead babies or fish kills or boating accidents.

Raptors

I'm notoriously bad at identifying raptors. Caracaras and the common vultures I get every time. Ospreys, too. Bald eagles -- the adults, at least -- are hard to miss. I can reliably make a kestrel, and I once saw a wild Aplomado falcon.

Many of the others, though, are just a jumble of talons and hooked beaks and barred-striped-spotted underparts. I'm pretty sure I've assigned many birds that didn't belong to the Red-tailed hawk clan, though I've likely misidentified far fewer Red-tailed hawks as something else.

Today at lunch I was sitting quietly at the table on our back porch, reading, when I heard a commotion at the bird feeder. I looked up to see a very noisy male cardinal. Nice. Then, I saw a grayish blur flutter across the back of the yard -- heard it too; White-winged dove, I assumed.

A minute or so later, a chunky bird landed on the fence just a dozen feet away. I glanced up, thought "dove," and went back to my book. Then it dawned on me: that was no dove. I look again, to find a smallish hawk peering back at me. The hawk sat on the fence for more than a minute, then hopped into the neighbor's photina bush, fluttered back to the top, peeked at me again, and then flew off.

The whole while I was intensely cataloguing: dark gray/black head and back, rusty barred chest, wide stripes on tail, dark beak, faint eyebrow stripe ....

As soon as the bird flew off, I dashed inside for the books. I turned first to the falcons, because of it's small size and longish tail -- and also the fact that it was hanging around my backyard. Nothing there fit the bill, so I started flipping through the pages.

As best I can tell, our visitor was a Sharp-shinned hawk, which looks much like a Cooper's hawk, only smaller. It's no surprise, then, that Sharp-shinned hawks -- winter visitors in this part of Texas -- primarily eat songbirds. I hope it doesn't too terribly often, but I'd be glad to see it again that close when I have a camera at hand.

Today's hawk was the second bird-eater to visit the neighborhood in recent weeks. Several weeks ago, on several different nights, a pair of Great horned owls held a hoot-off all across the back of the yard and into the greenbelt. It's mating season for Great-horned owls, and mating season is when they are the most vocal.

Great horned owls dine on their little cousins, Eastern screech owls, among other critters.

[Red-tailed hawk in flight, photo ©2006 Walter Siegmund, used under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation. Illustration of Sharp-shinned hawks in the public domain.]