Coyote dad was hungry. He knew there were chickens on Avon Street. But there was sharp wire, and he’d cut himself before. He walked briskly from the bush near the tree on the side of the hill. He looked at the chickens. He looked at the sharp wire. With his sharp paws he dug and dug beneath the wire. It was just enough to get through, though the wire scraped his fur and cut his skin. He was bleeding, but not too much, and he grabbed – ONE – TWO – chickens and flew out of the hole he dug. No one saw him, and he took the chickens to his baby coyotes. The babies did what babies do, and the daddy and mommy ate what was left. Every coyote ate that night.