Spring is here, and all throughout my social media are posts by people panicking about coyotes. It’s not uncommon for these native canines to be more visible this time of year since they have dens full of hungry pups to feed and protect. You might see them on the hunt for mice and other rodents, or you could be quietly but firmly escorted away from a den site. There’s a chance you’ll even see a coyote toting a nice, fat rabbit home to her pups.
That last one tends to upset some folks. I’ve seen people say they’ve deliberately scared away predatory animals to cause them to drop their prey, or in some cases even physically wrestled the prey away. Sure, that may make you feel like some sort of hero for saving the rabbit. But why does the rabbit deserve to live while the coyote’s pups slowly starve to death? Why should a Cooper’s hawk not be allowed to eat the house finch it just plucked from a convenient bird feeder? Who says we are right to get in the way of a garter snake capturing a tree frog? And what if the rabbit you liberated has internal injuries that slowly kill it anyway once it runs away from you in fright?
Many of us have a Disneyfied approach to nature. We have a great deal of sympathy for herbivores* like Bambi and Thumper, and we give Flower the striped skunk a free pass since most of what he eats is insects. We might get annoyed when Bambi starts to browse on the vegetables and rose bushes, but we don’t react with the sort of wailing dismay that we do when a mountain lion takes out one of Bambi’s herd members.
And yet an American robin tugging earthworms out of the ground and swallowing them alive is no different from a bobcat pouncing on the robin. Both are examples of one animal preying upon another, a perfectly normal part of the cycles of nature for 800 million years. Without carnivores (and insectivores and omnivores), herbivores would quickly overpopulate, depleting plant communities to ecologically disastrous states, and crash life as we know it. Life is all about inhabiting niches, and carnivores fill their evolutionary roles quite effectively.
Many people who claim they “love nature” only love the herbivorous, gentle, fuzzy parts of it, and refuse to examine or change their revulsion of or violence toward the rest. That’s a big problem. The elements of nature they consider to be “ugly” or gross” are no less important than the “pretty” or “adorable” ones. And systematically removing the “bad” animals can have a detrimental effect on the entire ecosystem. The benighted person who kills every snake they see is only going to cause an increase in rodent populations, which of course raises the likelihood of diseases, crop damage, and gnawed electrical wires in the attic.
Moreover, when we try to apply the limitations of human ideals of morality to the rest of nature, we ignore the concept of existence value: that all beings are important simply because they are here with us in this amazing, vibrant world we share. What are we implying when we say that the coyote pup is less deserving of life than the rabbit?
We have interfered with nature way too much as it is, in much larger ways than this. Yet it is a simple act to allow these individual interactions between species play out as they naturally would without feeling that we have to step in and play moral referee. Our arrogance at thinking that nature exists for us and our priorities is how we found ourselves in our current ecological predicament. The least we can do is be hands-off in our local food web. Consider it good practice for having healthier boundaries toward nature, rather than constantly centering ourselves in every decisions we make regarding other living beings.
Finally, practice having some compassion for the coyote busily trying to feed her young–and herself. She can’t run to the grocery store and get a package of industrially farmed beef to make burgers for the kids. Her entire life is a constant race against death, whether from starvation, disease, extreme heat or cold, and of course the interference of humans. Imagine the relief she must feel when she successfully manages to catch something bigger than a mouse–do you think we’re the only ones whose reward centers in our brains light up at a job well done? Think of how excited your dog gets when he manages to catch the ball–that’s not only a trait of domesticated animals.
Give and take, life and death, nutrients and energy endlessly cycling through body after body after body of animal, plant, fungus, bacteria–that is the grand dance in which the coyote and the rabbit play their parts. Appreciate this eons-old round without feeling the need to alter the tempo, and be glad that tonight the coyote pups will sleep contentedly with full stomachs.
*For the record, many “herbivores” will opportunistically eat meat, live or dead, for the nutrients. Bambi and his buddies are quite happy to pluck a perfectly healthy baby bird or two out of a nest as a snack, and will chew on carrion now and then, too.
I’m with you 100%. I like your concept of existence value. I respect your dedication to your craft and your passion to communicate your wisdom to others.
Thank you; glad to have a kindred spirit in this!