It was a cold Connecticut winter morning as I threw back the tarp that was covering the hay pile at our farm. I don’t know who was more surprised me or the coyote that I had disturbed who was now less than 3 feet from me. The coyote had no doubt, squeezed under the tarp to get out of the hollowing winds from the previous evening. As I stepped back, he went shooting past my legs and disappeared into the woods. I was lucky; it had no desire to do anything other than get away from me.