He heard the faint click of the game camera, I think, for he looks directly at the lens, arrow head lifted gently to the left, but he has been caught, left front paw extended, body following arching down, a balletic move, a figure in mid-dance step. He looks to be a big male. The next one is running, a blur, but clear enough to see that something is wrong with his coat. My friend saw two others, young, but beyond whelps. That makes 4 on this ridge line that runs from Route 345 in the west to Birchrunville and Pikeland and Charlestown in the east, wooded all the way, with thousands of acres of parkland directly to the north. They are here.
They may hunt in pairs or small packs, no more than 6 and they will eat birds, fawns, rabbits, fish, berries, and scavenge roadkill. They adapt. They will see you before you see them. Their night vision is superb. Couples often pair for life. He is the Native American trickster, sly and secretive, the watcher in the dark, the one who trots down suburban streets late at night, his territory then. He is here, in Northern Chester County, in Warwick, and he does not stay in one place.