Noticed posters in High Park all year informing people about coyotes but after months of daily walks, concluded it’s a myth. Never saw anything close to it but one time I went very early, 5:45 am. It was a uniquely spooky stroll. I felt the need to turn around often and sensed other eyes on me. Felt like easy prey and then there was that gruesome story ten years ago about the young songwriter traveling through Cape Breton, attacked by coyotes. They named a grant in her memory at the Folk Alliance and she grew up near here by Roncesvalles. The swoosh happened earlier this week while I was walking in the early morning down the unleashed area of dog walkers. Swoosh – a large fox gracefully jumped over one side of the wood fence and in a continuous movement continued to jump again over the next wall. Like horses in those competitions where people wear funny clothes and pretend they are necessary to the horse’s graceful technique. As if the horses need their flappy pants and bowler hats in order to clear the heights. A couple beats later I realized the swoosh was too big for a fox, that was a coyote. It was grey. It wasn’t a dog or a dog’s energy. The focus was part of what stayed with me, how undistracted it was, it happened quicker and quieter than I could process. Sometimes in writing music, especially in improvising, something can appear to come from you, from a part of you you don’t recognize and confuse you later about how it happened. Did you really do that? Who exactly is the “you” that’s taking credit for this? Some kinds of wild animals live in us and can’t be forced into the light. You can only improve your odds by hanging out near their habitat and maybe you get a chance at the surprise if it comes your way.