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Prairie wolves and wool shirts

by G. George Ostrom
| October 13, 2010 11:13 AM

Never really thought it could happen but it did: “Prairie wolf attacks near The Big Apple.”

Coyote versus people incidents continue to make occasional news stories, both in Montana and across the country. A recent local report told of one trying to get into a lady’s house, but the biggest story this year involved attacks on a teenager and a toddler in Rye Brook, N.Y., a suburb of New York City. Those attacks were separate and occurred last month within an hour of each other. The animal was killed as it “lunged at a policeman,” and it was found to have rabies. The two bite victims were successfully treated for that often fatal disease.

Although it happened about a year ago, I just learned of a most unusual attack on a human. It happened in southeastern Canada Park where a well known, young female pop singer was pulled down and killed by a pack of 17 coyotes. A Montana Fish and Game biologist told me the story. The victim was hiking alone, just prior to an upcoming concert. A pack that large was new to me but maybe eastern coyotes have developed differences. There apparently was an accurate count carried out by Canadian officials who exterminated all of them.

The only previous fatal coyote attack I know about was on a child on Los Angeles County in 1982. My column of July 3, 2009 covered that incident and several other serious attacks by citing a study done by biologist Ludwig Carbyn. Today I am reprinting the final paragraph of that column because it contains a bit of unexpected irony:

“Grey wolves usually cooperate with each other in hunting, coyotes very often, mountain lions seldom. I once watched unbelievable tactics successfully carried out by four coyotes against a band of bighorn sheep. If coyotes ... and the lions, ever started using numbers in attacks on humans, we’d probably see some real management policy conflicts between PETA and the rednecks ... but that would never happen ... would it?”

Oh darn! Last week I said I’d try to be less serious this week, so better give that a shot.

Monday there came upon me an overpowering urge to put on my very favorite, best beloved shirt. It’s a rich looking Pendleton wool of striking bluish-green with black checks, only worn on special days over these last many years. Wore it for such events as grandchildren’s birthday parties, for a picture in the University of Montana publication about my receiving the Distinguished Alumni Award, things like that.

Couldn’t find “the shirt” in our bedroom closet but held down panic. Iris heard oaths and whining so she joined in the search. Went through other closets upstairs and downstairs but found nothing. “The shirt” was gone! Plunked in favorite chair for serious, long term mourning.

On a desperate hunch, Iris called the dry cleaners, EUREKA! Yes, they had the shirt. Said it had been there since early last June.

This joyful news was followed by a short family discussion over which of us had taken “the shirt” down there. We long ago figured out marriages have trouble if arguments grow from such innocent happenings, so we each admitted, “I probably did it.”

At coffee that day, I told the gang all about “the shirt” and that I was going to pick it up on the way home. Following an informal poll, my nearest and dearest friends decided unanimously that I was the one who did it. They then assigned Mike Strand to go with me as far as the cleaners to make sure I wouldn’t forget.

When I picked up “the shirt,” the cleaner’s tag had Iris Ostrom’s name on it, but I’ve decided to not tell anyone about that.

Life is good.

G. George Ostrom is a national award-winning Hungry Horse News columnist. He lives in Kalispell.