Miles and Mama Coyote Making Home
An Anniversary of Sorts
Original photography: B. Littleton
In 2013, a cat walked into my house, after hiding under a shed for a few days, and claimed this chair as his own. I named him Miles for all of his mileage successfully traversing the desert floor to permanently land at DragonPony ranch. Miles raised Jack, a Border Collie-Coyote bred herding dog, plus rehabbed several elder dogs through their last years of life. Miles ran three horses through daily routines, played with ravens, ate rodents, defended lizards from roadrunners, and always enjoyed waiting for Orion’s Belt to slide overhead winter nights prior to tucking me in to sleep. He often kept watch from the roof ridge. I had no idea of his age. Miles died three years ago June 23rd. Today is his anniversary.
The same day Miles died, the resident coyote mama defended her young pup from three feral dogs trespassing behind the barn. It was one of those odd, surreal moments of digging a grave for my domestic kitty companion while watching survival strategies of two similar gene pools figure out territories, tactics and intelligence. There was something of myself in play here. The coyote family had moved in early on when the horses’ manure pile had first been tractored into a berm, right before a snow storm. The heat kept the coyotes warm as they burrowed into the hay and sawdust based pile of aging organic material. It was home for multi generations of this family, and even in summer, in the high temps of June, the family orbited within the back four acres, as a place to rest, recover and water down.
The top photo is of the moment Miles claimed his chair. The bottom photo is of mama coyote checking in recently, early morning. The horses are gone, the chair is gone, the berm has whittled down to a small rise, a new pair of feral dogs occasionally roam by without much incident, and it is now Jack who waits for Orion, as I dream. This coyote matriarch is still very much alive with another year’s pup. They continue to roam for miles, and Miles, in memory. The unexpected lessons of survival and of making home seem to be the same practice, regardless of which species burrows in under the night sky.
written by Bren Littleton.
Tin Flea Press, c. 2026
Original photography: B. Littleton