Lately, my mornings include a forest stroll with a dashing young King Charles Cavalier named Tuppence. It’s not a bad way to start the day - fresh air, nature, and the company of an endearing dog. This morning, I also had a good laugh at my own expense.

Tuppence and I had rounded the midpoint of our walk and were headed home when we came across a pile of dog shit in the middle of the trail. The sight of it interrupted the otherwise pleasant meandering of my thoughts and I immediately started tut-tutting in my head about how lazy people are and how irresponsible dog owners make the rest of us look bad and so on and so forth.

The pile was frozen fast in the snow, so I kicked it with my boot to dislodge it before bending down to add it to the poop bag I was already carrying to collect Mr. Tuppence’s business.

As I straightened up and prepared to tie off the bag, I couldn’t help noticing that there was a very dense concentration of deer fur in the offending excrement.

Reader, I am quite sure - based on this evidence - that I am now the responsible “owner” of a coyote who I’m sure could not give a flying fig about trail etiquette.

[The attached picture is of some lovely ice formations on the narrow creek that runs across the path. I thought it more pleasant to look at than a more directly relevant image. You’re welcome.]