Silent Stalker +
Yosemite, California
I spent an entire week following this coyote that traversed the same path through the grasses of Cooke Meadow in Yosemite Valley. Each morning, I woke before dawn, eager to witness his routine. He emerged from the shadows, confidence in his stride, as the cool air began to warm under the rising sun.
One day, I decided to get closer. I laid in a shallow ditch that bordered his trail, maintaining silence, not wanting to disrupt the delicate dance of nature. As the coyote approached, his ears perked up. He stopped abruptly and looked down into the ditch where I lay hidden. Our eyes met for a brief moment that felt like an eternity.
His gaze was a mixture of curiosity and wariness, a spark of wild intelligence flickering in those bright eyes. I wondered what thoughts crossed his mind, whether he saw me as an intruder or merely as another oddity in his world. Then, as quickly as he had paused, he resumed his journey, slipping away seamlessly into the landscape.
Yosemite, California
I spent an entire week following this coyote that traversed the same path through the grasses of Cooke Meadow in Yosemite Valley. Each morning, I woke before dawn, eager to witness his routine. He emerged from the shadows, confidence in his stride, as the cool air began to warm under the rising sun.
One day, I decided to get closer. I laid in a shallow ditch that bordered his trail, maintaining silence, not wanting to disrupt the delicate dance of nature. As the coyote approached, his ears perked up. He stopped abruptly and looked down into the ditch where I lay hidden. Our eyes met for a brief moment that felt like an eternity.
His gaze was a mixture of curiosity and wariness, a spark of wild intelligence flickering in those bright eyes. I wondered what thoughts crossed his mind, whether he saw me as an intruder or merely as another oddity in his world. Then, as quickly as he had paused, he resumed his journey, slipping away seamlessly into the landscape.
Yosemite, California
I spent an entire week following this coyote that traversed the same path through the grasses of Cooke Meadow in Yosemite Valley. Each morning, I woke before dawn, eager to witness his routine. He emerged from the shadows, confidence in his stride, as the cool air began to warm under the rising sun.
One day, I decided to get closer. I laid in a shallow ditch that bordered his trail, maintaining silence, not wanting to disrupt the delicate dance of nature. As the coyote approached, his ears perked up. He stopped abruptly and looked down into the ditch where I lay hidden. Our eyes met for a brief moment that felt like an eternity.
His gaze was a mixture of curiosity and wariness, a spark of wild intelligence flickering in those bright eyes. I wondered what thoughts crossed his mind, whether he saw me as an intruder or merely as another oddity in his world. Then, as quickly as he had paused, he resumed his journey, slipping away seamlessly into the landscape.