Us coyotes feel a strong call, once again, to bury our noses (and toeses) in a very particular kind of mud. It is a dark, squishy, very fine mud found only between roots of cattails in certain artesian-fed sloughs, in a prairie landscape not so far from the easternmost extremities of the Livingstone Range. The Livingstone Range is not, as you may surmise, a cooking appliance. It is a (relatively) low range of mountains in southern Alberta that straddles the approach to the Rockies, proper, and it looms to the west, always, in my dreams.
I'll be back in this space, posting again, at the beginning of August.