So afraid was I of disappointing my mom, that the idea of telling her I’d disobeyed one of her cardinal rules of living on the ranch was terrifying to me. I wasn’t supposed to have been near a wild animal, and here I was stalking a whole litter of them!
But these babies needed milk, and I needed mom’s help to take care of them. I knew I had no choice but to tell her about the coyote family. The thought of those three babies dying of hunger all alone drove me.
My mom never ceases to amaze. Instead of a lecture, she was grabbing the keys to the Jeep and rushing me out the door. I didn’t even have time to finish my explanation.
We arrived at the den just as the sun was setting. The pups barely put up any fuss as mom reached in to collect them one by one. Maze was the littlest. His sisters, though obviously wanting for nourishment, seemed relatively strong. Maze wasn’t holding up nearly as well.
We put the girls in a box on the floor of the Jeep, but I couldn’t bring myself to add the little boy. I wondered if he would even survive the ride back to the house. In my hands he lay limp, and though I could feel him breathing, his heartbeat was barely tapping against my sensitive fingertips. I held him close to me hoping my warmth would revive him, and hoping the sound of my heart beating would remind his of what it was supposed to sound like.
In her lab, mom made a coyote pup cocktail of goat’s milk and sugar. She handed me a dropper and told me to start with the littlest one while she fed the sisters. “Don’t put him down, Meg. He needs to feel your warmth, your love. Keep putting drops of milk on his lips and see if he’ll take any of it in. When you’re tired, let me know and I’ll take over. We’ll work in shifts. Okay?
“Are you up for this, Meg? Do you understand that even after all your effort, all your love, he may still die?”
I looked down at the tiny ball of fur in my arms. He was so little he could fit into the palm of my hand. How amazing he was. This beautiful gift. I loved him immediately and unconditionally. “I understand, mom. I’ll take care of him as long as he’s here. Every minute with him is…,” my voice caught in my throat, “precious.”
Mom nodded with a wisdom I’d never noticed before echoing across her face. “All right, then. Let’s get to work.”
The whole night long I stayed up with the littlest coyote. My neck was stiff and my arms ached and I really had to go to the bathroom, but I couldn’t put Maze down. At 1am, he finally started to lick the milk off his lips. By 2am, he was letting me put the drops right on his tongue. By 4am, he had finished four ounces of his special milk and was sound asleep. Only then did I start to feel like this little guy might make it. My little fighter. He was so amazing to me. And that is how he got his name. Maze.
His sisters were more easily revived. By the third day, all three of them were rolling around on top of each other like the pups they were. The girls play-fought pretty rough, so I kept Maze with me much of the time. He was still smaller than the little ladies, and I didn’t want him getting caught in the middle of a skirmish or worse, becoming the center attraction in some sort of coyote she-pup smack-down.
As soon as he could keep up, Maze followed me everywhere. He would trot behind me like a fluffy shadow as I went about my daily chores, working on my studies or playing with my brothers. I’d look over at him and he would cock his head to the side, let his tongue loll out of his muzzle and smile at me as if to say, “Hey, you. What’s up?”
Pretty soon, the entire family started talking to Maze as if he completely understood every word we said. He fast became my confidant, my entertainment, my protector and my best friend.
Mom says I imprinted on him just as much as he did on me that first night when I nursed him back to life. I believe it.
By the fourth month, Maze’s sisters had wandered off preferring life in the wild. They didn’t make a huge production of good-byes or anything. They were playing in the field behind the house one morning when some yummy scent caught their attention in the brush. They took off after it and stayed out all night. The next day, they came back for a drink of water and a quick “hey” to their domesticated brother. They left and haven’t been back since. That was more than two years ago.
As for Maze, it never even occurred to him to leave. For some reason, that silly coyote thought I was worth sticking with. I think it would be more fun chasing my nose in the wild, but I’m very thankful Maze didn’t agree. So he slept on my bed, and ate at my feet, and draped his now huge furry body across my lap when I read a book on the couch. My wild coyote was anything but wild.
Sitting with Maze at that moment, watching the way the light shinned off his soft, thick coat, seeing the look of unconditional love in his sweet, expressive eyes, I felt a wave of thankfulness for my life and my family.
Forget leaving the ranch. I love it here. I love my goofy brothers and my fiercely devoted mom.
I never wanted things to change.
Chapter 4 A Watched Pot Never Boils