I was reading DRY RAIN STORIES by Pete Fromm, and had gotten almost through "Sage and Salt," when the protagonist hears the "lunatic yippings and laughings of coyotes" and then realizes he isn't hearing coyotes at all, but shouting and laughing, coming from a park.
About a week after our family moved onto Laguna Atascosa National Wildlife Refuge in south Texas, Jena (who was 13 at the time), came busting into the house at dusk, complaining that a bunch of partiers were whooping it up at the Overlook, which had closed at sunset and was therefore off-limits to visitors. Steve stepped out of the house and walked down the dirt road to investigate, returning a few minutes later, smiling. Turned out the revelers weren’t trespassers at all, but a bunch of coyotes. We all laughed at that. We still recollect that story sometimes -- how funny it is that coyotes and humans sound so much alike.
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