, until they rise into a long squall or scream, which again, as it
dies away, breaks up into a succession of yaps and gurgles. Usually one
Coyote begins it, and the others join in with something like agreement
on the scream.

I believe I never yet camped in the West without hearing this from the
near hills when night time had come. Last September I even heard it back
of the Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel, and I must say I have learned to love
it. It is a wild, thrilling, beautiful song. Our first camp was at
Yancey's last summer and just after we had all turned in, the Coyote
chorus began, a couple of hundred yards from the camp. My wife sat up
and exclaimed, "Isn't it glorious? now I know we are truly back in the
West."

The Park authorities are making great efforts to reduce the number of
Coyotes because of their destructiveness to the young game, but an
animal that is endowed with extraordinary wits, phenomenal speed,
unexcelled hardihood, and marvellous fecundity, is not easily downed. I
must confess that if by any means they should succeed in exterminating
the Coyote in the West, I should feel that I had lost something of very
great value. I never fail to get that joyful thrill when the "Medicine
Dogs" sing their "Medicine Song" in the dusk, or the equally weird and
thrilling chorus with which they greet the dawn; for they have a large
repertoire and a remarkable register. The Coyote is indeed the Patti of
the Plains.

THE COYOTE'S SONG[A]

I am the Coyote that sings each night at dark;
It was by gobbling prairie-dogs that I got such a bark.
At least a thousand prairie-dogs I fattened on, you see,
And every bark they had in them is reproduced in me.

_Refrain_:

I can sing to thrill your soul or pierce it like a lance,
And all I ask of you to do is give me half a chance.
With a yap--yap--yap for the morning
And a yoop--yoop--yoop for the night
And a yow--wow--wow for the rising moon
And a yah-h-h-h for the campfire light.
Yap--yoop--yow--yahhh!

I gathered from the howling winds, the frogs and crickets too,
And so from each availing fount, my inspiration drew.
I warbled till the little birds would quit their native bush.
And squat around me on the ground in reverential hush.

_Refrain_:

I'm a baritone, soprano, and a bass and tenor, too.
I can thrill and slur and frill and whirr and shake you through
and t