Elusive and magical, both silent and garrulous, both feared and beloved, Coyote is the ultimate contradiction— an animal associated with both wisdom and foolishness, cunning and buffoonery, resilience and fragility, solitude and solidarity, invisibility and ubiquity. Celebrated Native author, N. Scott Momaday, tells us, “Coyotes have the gift of seldom being seen; they keep to the edge of vision and beyond, loping in and out of cover on the plains and highlands. And at night, when the whole world belongs to them, they parley at the river, their higher, sharper voices full of authority and rebuke. They are an old council of clowns, and they are listened to.”In her poem, “Mohave Evening,” Virginia Hamilton Adair closes her beautiful poem of observation this way:… we know the coyotes are offinto silver spaces,their eyes coming out to huntlike all the other stars.Lois Red Elk, in her poem, “Coyote Invisible,” notes: Coyotes prowl the low ground, to understandthe process of potential maneuvers, or how long it takes to become a tale. Both legend and physical, both light and dark, Coyote, like all myths, stories, legends and poems, remains mostly hidden until we suddenly notice them trotting nonchalantly alongside us, demonstrating an aspect of ourselves we might not recognize.“Coyotes move within a landscape of attentiveness” said noted adventure writer, Craig Childs of Norwood, who might be considered a kind of Trickster symbol, himself. Indeed, Coyote often walks the crossroads and backroads, illustrating new ways of being, stalking us from the desert brush, reminding us of that which we cannot know. Trickster is found (or not found) everywhere, but seems to be most evident in stories, myths, legends and in the arts and humanities. In some stories, Coyote has the power of creation. In others he’s a kind of superhero, battling supernatural enemies. At times he’s a messenger, bringing significant information to the people. Other times he’s a clown, outwitted every time by the roadrunner. In Greek and Roman myth, Hermes, Puck and Pan represent the archetypal and unpredictable Coyote. In Norse myth, we have Loki. In ancient Egypt, Thoth. In chemistry, and in the night sky, we have Mercury. In Hawaiian myth, we have one of the few female trickster figures in Mamala, who appears sometimes as a shark and others as beautiful women. There is also Inanna, of ancient Sumerian.In modern times, a few examples of the Trickster myth are found in the likes of such characters as Bob Dylan, Beetlejuice, Andy Kaufman, The Cheshire Cat, Jack Sparrow, the Doctor in Doctor Who, The Pink Panther and Rumplestiltskin. The pseudonym-happy and world-changing Benjamin Franklin might also classify. Above all, Trickster is an agent of change. Lewis Hyde, author of "Trickster Makes This World” argues that Trickster is a boundary-crosser. Every group has its edge, its sense of in and out and Trickster is always there at that boundary.”But just because a person or character is tricky, does not make them an archetype of the Trickster myth. The shapeshifter myth in Native culture and across continents is often symbolized as rabbit, hare, fox, sandhill crane, raven, crow, joker, alchemist, magician, truth-teller, fool and raven. Most often and most notably, though, especially here in the West, Coyote trots across our consciousness as the ultimate shape-shifter, always asking that we think outside the confines of duality and explore the in-betweens. These in-betweens are the comfort zone of the poet, so it isn’t surprising that writing the Coyote poem is considered a kind of rite of passage for any poet living in the West. I’ll leave you with one such poem, written by Norwood poet and retired county commissioner of San Miguel County, Art Goodtimes. The poem uses its own title as part of the first sentence in the poem, which strikes me as a very Trickster thing to do. “Roadkill Coyote” sprawls across the centerlinebackleg broken * round glazedeyes glassy as marblesunwavering * unblinkingas the world rolls bynow unnoticed or maybeall seen & thus merelyunremarkable * no fudgeor flinch of instinct * justthe cold last look of it alli turn the car around &go back to the body * drag heroff the road * steam riseswhen i stroke her flanksthe jaw locked open * canineteeth menacing even in deathi take out my knife * singa death song & thanking coyotei cut off her tailfur too beautiful to bury& then pull her hind enddeeper into the rabbitbrushbeside the highway’s shoulderall the way home * downthe canyon & up Norwood Hillsinging herback into the mystery. — Art Goodtimes(Western Slope Poet Laureate, Wendy Videlock lives in Palisade. Her writings appear in O Magazine, The New York Times, Hudson Review, and Best American Poetry. Her books are available where books are sold. Her visual art features in galleries across the Grand Valley. You can reach her at westernslopeword@gmail.com.)
Wendy Videlock
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