His entire body was in plain sight, its length broken only by an outcropping of sandstone that partly obscured his legs, and a small bit of prickly pear near his shoulder.
He had been lying there for nearly an hour, absolutely immovable. Several times during that period both von Hallstatt and Shalako had looked directly at him without seeing him.
The bare slope was innocent of cover. It was not a place one examined, and the Apache knew that…
— Shalako, Louis L’Amour.
I was slightly startled to see the coyote standing on the trail in a place I had scanned seconds before. The animal was half hidden behind a clump of snowberry about 25 yards away. He was watching something at the waterline in the shrubs to my right and had not taken notice of my presence. I froze, realizing that it would be only a matter of seconds before he recognized me. I would watch to see if I could see him move off into the brush.
Awareness is among the oldest of survival skills. It’s practiced by every animal up and down the food chain. However, as humans have become more detached from their natural environment they have lost the desire to practice it. But being aware of our surroundings is the essence of natural behavior. Awareness requires stillness of mind and body, and stillness requires discipline, patience, and practice. That might be the reason its been abandoned.
I’ve practiced awareness by sitting out in the wild since I was in High School; and as I mentioned in a previous post I’ve recently started to practice awareness in urban settings. No preparation is required. Find a place off the beaten track and sit very still, just listening and watching. Practice sitting in a comfortable location, as still as possible, being aware of what is happening around you. You might be helped by cushion, being in a marsh I was helped by a bug net.
In the afternoon I went to sit in one of my favorite sitting spots, on a wooded hump of basalt the Columbia River hasn’t yet swallowed. A place with a minor view, my back against a good sized oak cushioned by dead leaves and mole churned dirt. It overlooks a shallow lake; well really just a wide spot in a slow flowing local creek. Behind me is oak woodland thick with an undergrowth of snowberry, dewberry, and grass.
In front, a grass bald dips down to a light fringe of Ash, and then marshlands line the flooded creek. The actual river is about a half-mile to the west, just out of sight beyond a line of tall poplars. I’m reminded of this by periodic blasts of Ocean freighters chasing fishing boats from their path as they pass on their way to Portland.
Since it is the middle of the day I expect the activity level to be low; however I’m pleasantly surprised. A pair of bald eagles cry as they circle above and a kingfisher chatters at uncooperative fish as it hunts the marsh waters. Dragonflies dart into the shrubs edging the woodland and swallowtail butterflies flit through the ash trees by the marsh. At one point a jumping spider dashes onto my pant leg to seize an unaware ant.
I had been there almost two hours before the coyote. During that time I concentrated on breaking the habit of twisting my head to watch every flying bird or bug. After being tamed I am trying to relearn seeing in the wild. The progressive lenses in my glasses have made this difficult. Progressive lenses limit peripheral vision and require almost constant motion to keep subjects in focus. Over the time I had calmed and now moved my eyes more than my head. The next advancement will be to train myself to once again look into the shadows before looking at bright spots, that’s much harder.
The low cover and slope had allowed the coyote to approach undetected. It had also screened me; during its approach neither of us had seen the other. I was not wearing camouflage; but I was partially obscured by the tall grass and to keep mosquitoes off of my face, I wore a bug net.
I sat and watched, scarcely breathing lest some small movement draw the coyote’s eye. The coyote seemed fixed to its spot, immovable. I assume the animal had not realized that the oddly shaped tree was actually a human.
I heard the approaching breeze as it moved across the lake stirring the reeds as it passed. When it hit the shore it set one clump of leaves to twisting. The motion caught my eyes and dragged them to its center. Even as I pulled my eyes back I realized the coyote would be gone; and it was. Perhaps my scent was brought on the breeze, or perhaps the flash of my glasses or the whites of my eyes behind their net veil gave me away. Regardless, I lost the battle of wills to the animal. I was not patient enough, not disciplined enough. I let a little distraction take control of my focus. It will take much more practice, but it was a contest I was excited to have entered.
I practiced stalking on the walk back to the truck. Boy do I need a lot more practice doing that. I did creep close to and then startle a rabbit but I couldn’t fool the Robins who announced my presence to all savvy enough to be aware.
