Wile E.

Our suburb is close enough to Chicago that we have strong opinions about pizza, but far enough out that we also have wildlife. Herds of deer devour my tulips every spring so thoroughly that no shred of evidence remains. It's like they were never planted. CSI: Garden Unit would have nothing to work with.

And since these deer (thieves, all) are mostly left alone by the humans in the area, their only real predator is the coyote. The coyote packs have flourished accordingly. My neighbor Heidi has a video of one pulling a turkey carcass out of her garbage, and I'm telling you, this coyote was pin-up worthy. Shiny coat, great muscle tone and teeth like a Kardashian, I’ve never seen a healthier animal anywhere (in your dreams, Underdog).

Last night, while trying to get a good night's sleep before my 7am flight, a pack of these coyotes committed themselves to keeping me and my chauffeur, HRFP*, awake. Every fifteen minutes or so , presumably when they'd caught something , they erupted into woo-wooing and yip-yipping like a group of 14-year-olds making a TikTok. It remains a mystery whether any tulip-plumped deer were among the victims. A local wildlife expert, HRFP*, says they make the same sounds whether they catch a deer or a field mouse.

Since the open fields behind our house create a wind tunnel so powerful that no outdoor furniture company has yet conceived of chairs that can withstand it, the coyotes don't have to be anywhere near my bedroom for it to sound like they're in it.

So now, sitting on my 7am flight, I'm doing research on how to keep deer out of my garden.

The answer? Coyote urine.

When I mentioned this to HRFP*, he asked where one acquires coyote urine. I told him it sounds like there is a whole pack of coyotes in our neighborhood, we own thick gloves and jars……Problem, meet solution.

*Hot Retired Fighter Pilot