“A Bag of Coyote Teeth”

AT Day 79-80

Miles Today: 9.94

AT Mile: 1439.6

(Hemlock’s House [CT])

You’ll remember the Bitter Old Man from a couple of weeks ago. He was the host of the Ekertville Shelter (I probably have the name wrong, but it was something like that). His whole disposition was made of discouragement and close-mindedness. Some of his communication with a foreign hiker was clearly xenophobic, his political rants were inappropriate and unwanted, he didn’t even bother to put a shirt on when he came outside to talk with the visiting hikers, and on top of it all, he had no room for unscripted dialogue. He was just one long rant about everything that was meant to go on uninterrupted.

Anyways, that Bitter Old Man is the reason that I ordered a bag of coyote teeth to be shipped to me up trail.

Let me explain.

—

You see, the Bitter Old Man had been ranting for some time before I made any attempt to interject something of my own. He just yammered on, and any time I tried to ask questions or make it a dialogue instead of a monologue, he would pause awkwardly to indicate his displeasure with my interruption, then go back to the rant.

Nothing was working.

So I decided to employ a new tactic–dramatic change of subject.

He’d just finished telling me for the third time about how unjust it is that he’s about to lose his government subsidized housing and that he has no other employable skills or aspirations, when I finally interrupted with sincerity.

I fingered what felt like a pebble in the pocket of my running shorts. It was one of the teeth from the coyote skull that I got from the Witch of Waynesboro. It had been there for about a week, because I didn’t know what to do with it and didn’t want to just throw it on trail. Lord knows some of the other teeth from the coyote skull must have fallen out on trail without my knowing, but I saw when this one fell off, so I picked it up and put it into my pocket.

So as I felt the tooth in my pocket, and considered the Bitter Old Man’s rant, I asked him a question: “Do you want a coyote tooth?”

There was a longer pause this time, not only to indicate that I’d failed to provide the response of a silent head nod so he could continue, but had instead interjected a question. There was that silence, but then in addition, there was a longer moment, almost as if he was thinking closely about what I’d just asked.

“What?” he finally asked, clearly unsure what I’d said.

So I said it slower this time: “Do you want a coyote tooth?”

Again there was a pause from him and a look of confusion on his face. The pause was longer this time, but again he ended it by saying “What!?” Even more sharply than the first time.

For the third time, I said slowly and clearly: DO. YOU. WANT. A. COYOTE. TOOTH?”

This time his pause and confusion was the same, but at the end of it he just said, “Boy, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“A coyote. Like the dog or like a wolf. You know what they are. They have teeth. I have one in my pocket. Not a coyote, but a tooth from a coyote. Do you want the coyote tooth that is in my pocket to go into your hand?” It was as clear as I could possibly make things.

And when he finally said “No” I don’t think that it’s because he didn’t want to accept the offer. I honestly think that he didn’t have the heart to ask again what it was that I’d been saying over and over.

He wasn’t ready for anything that far outside and beyond the normal engagements of dialogue. And so he missed out on getting a coyote tooth.

—

Fast forward two weeks, and you have me on trail today. I was hiking with Boots, about a mile from the end of our day, when we met two section hikers on trail. They were both smoked and exhausted, sitting on a log beside the trail.

We made small talk for a few minutes before I decided to go on my way, but before parting, I felt the coyote tooth in my pocket again, and I wanted to leave them with a memento. They seemed like they were so interested in the AT and by hikers who were thru hiking, so I wanted to give them something. And the coyote tooth seemed perfect.

So for the second time on this trail, I asked if someone wanted my coyote tooth, and unlike the first time, these two accepted. I gave them the tooth, and I went on my way. It was a wonderful exchange.

—

Anyways, now I have a bag of coyote teeth in the mail that I ordered from a taxidermist, so if anyone else wants a coyote tooth too, then I’ll have one for them.

Turns out you can get them for about 30 cents a piece.

—

And that’s my story about a bag of coyote teeth.

I hope you’ve enjoyed.

Wormwood.