343/365: A Murder of Crows.

Ever since Coyote came back around, he seems different. No major pranks or playful antics. He just sits around, eating all the cookies, drinking all my beer, and shooting at the birds in the backyard. Used to be that Coyote would maybe take down a buzzard once in a while, maybe steal a chicken for lunch, but he always took only what he needed. The past two days, he's been racking up a big kill count, and barely ate half a pigeon. There's a lot of birds passing through on their way South too; doves, wrens, jays, geese, cardinals, crows.

I think prison may have warped him a little. I'd talk to him, but he's drunk.  Don't approach a drunk Coyote wielding a weapon. But this new bloodlust,  this drunken buffoonery, is making me a little nervous. I fear that all this pointless bloodshed, especially at the hand of a Spirit of Nature like our canine friend, will incur a wrath in turn. It's not like Coyote is the only elemental animal spirit out there...