It doesn’t matter where I find myself in the world, my natural waking state is roughly an hour before sunrise. I instinctively am a predawn prowler. The nourishing solitude of watching night turn to day stirs something in me that’s deeply primal and ancient.
All summer I roam Town Neck Beach in Sandwich, Massachusetts following coyote tracks and scavenging the beach. Back home in Vermont now, my predawn habits shift. However, my prowling and the way I feel doesn’t change one bit.
dawn: to begin to grow light as the sun rises
prowl: to move about or wander stealthily in or as if in search of prey
wander: to move about without a fixed course, aim, or goal
prey: an animal (idea, objects?) taken by a predator (scavenger?) as food (nourishment)
scavenge: to salvage from discarded or refuse material
nourish: to promote the growth of
What else, other than nourishment, are the coyotes prowling for in their predawn wanderings?
What I’m searching for when prowling, other than solitude, shifts dramatically like the tides of the North Atlantic.
