“In our twenty-first century world, the terms 'genocide' and 'ethnic cleansing' sit uneasily in the mind, associated with some of our darkest and most disturbing thoughts about human nature. They conjure Darfur, Serbia, Cambodia, and Pol Pot, and, most vividly of all for many of us, the horrors in Europe before and during World War II.
“‘Species cleansing,' on the other hand, is not a term that falls readily to hand, although we have engaged in it without much remorse for at least 10,000 years and probably more. Be it North American mammoths, driven to annihilation ten millennia ago by bands of a near-professional hunting culture known as Clovis, to flightless birds, clubbed and battered to extinction across the islands of the Pacific... to passenger pigeons and ivory-billed woodpeckers and Carolina parakeets in twentieth century America, humans are ancient veterans of the art of species cleansing, the act of pushing fellow animals into the black hole of oblivion.”
— Dan Flores, Coyote America: A Natural and Supernatural History
And this is why I love coyotes so dearly. Because they refuse. They overcome even our grandest efforts at erradicating them. And for that sheer resiliance and tenacity, I am grateful to them.