Coyote.

When I was a dancer, one of my favorite performances was a piece where I had to transform into a she wolf.  My hair was long, red, and flew in every possible direction as our ferocious pack devoured the stage.  We loved embodying the alter egos so much there was never a performance with out blood and bruises, and we relished in our wild wolfish delight.  

I've never had the pleasure of seeing a wolf in its natural environment, but yesterday, I got to see a coyote.  He trotted brazenly across a broad field ready for haying, and his red fur blew around in unison with the golden grass.  His ears stood tall and pricked as he moved confidently - head held high.  

I'm certain he was a he because his size shocked me, and I'm certain he was young with that proud laissez faire demeanor.  He was the center of his world, and for a moment, the center of mine.  

It's often the case that when you play a character it becomes an opportunity to learn something about yourself.  A ballet, can lead a group of naive young women to their ferociousness.  I think the same is true when you interact with nature.  Once in a while on a prairie walk I find myself in the company of a bison heard, and somehow their reminder of my meekness is completely comforting.  In contrast, the coyote opened me to the part of my self that is alert and eager to move swiftly with sure steps.  

I wanted to run with him.