First Place.  Remember the Night

By Ken Melnick 

I woke up kind of late and looked out the window to see a beautiful Arizona day. Not a cloud in the sky and in the mid-‘70s - couldn't be better. Before even taking a sip of juice, I got on the phone and called my hiking buddies to see if anyone would like to do an outdoor thing and enjoy this day. Believe it or not, they either weren't home or had other plans. Bottom line, no one wanted to or could go hiking with me.

Hiking Alone, Lost

After a half hour of sulking, I finally said the heck with them all, I'm not going to miss this day, I'll go hiking alone. So I grabbed my nap sack, threw in a couple of bottles of water and a few snacks instead of breakfast, got into my car, and was off to Tonto National Forest.

I hiked Tonto a few times and really liked it. I knew one trail and figured I would stick to it and be back in time for lunch. I guess I lost track of time. Before I knew it, it was getting late and the sun was setting. As I started back to where I left my car, I realized I didn't recognize anything and I probably took a wrong turn somewhere. My cell phone was in the car; I didn't even have a flashlight. Man, was I in trouble. I tried not to panic, but it was really hard to hold it together. I hadn't seen a person all day, and now God knows where I am or even if I'm heading in the right direction.

Darkness Setting In

It seemed like minutes, but I'm sure it was hours later that the sun started setting, and now my heart was pounding, sweat was pouring from my brow, and a nauseous panicky feeling was coming over me. No one even knows I'm out here, and it’s getting dark. Every piece of vegetation threw off an eerie shadow and the mild breeze caused a rustle of bushes and branches that frankly scared the heck out of me.  The sky  was crystal clear, and the stars were so bright they didn't seem real. All of this was cast against a clear full yellow moon.

I kept walking, hopefully in the right direction, when I heard the sharp crisp howls of a pack of coyotes. I had heard them before, but it always has been from the safety of home or by a campfire with my buddies. Alone in the forest is a whole different thing. After walking for hours, I started to fatigue, and as I turned the bend in the trail, there in front of me was a pack of coyotes. I could tell you there were twenty or thirty, that's how it seemed at the time, but in reality it was about seven or eight. They just stood still looking at me, and I was frozen stiff with fear. Just as quickly as they appeared, they were gone, and once again, I was alone.

Helping Coyote Cub

After catching my breath, I started to walk again and in front of me appeared a big grey coyote with a cub hanging from her mouth. I stopped and figured, this is it; she will tear me apart for being in her territory.  But she gently put the cub down, backed away, and laid down as if to tell me to pick up the cub. I didn't know what to do.  If I touched the cub, she might feel I would hurt it and attack, but I knew I had to do something. Running was out of the question. The coyote could easily outrun me, and for sure the pack was close by. I figured I was dead meat anyway, and with all the courage I could muster, I walked slowly toward the cub and picked it up. It was no bigger than the palm of my hand and just a ball of fur. As I got the cub close to my face and positioned my body so I could get some light from the moon, I could see its mouth was stuck open in a weird position. I looked closely and saw a thorn stuck in its pallet at one end and in its tongue at the other. Obviously the cub couldn't feed and was slowly dying. The position of the thorn was so strange it was no wonder the mother could not pull it out. I'm no vet and to boot scared out of my wits, but I figured I had nothing to lose. I slowly stuck my hand into the cub's mouth and with some force pulled hard on the thorn until it came loose. I gently put the cub down and backed away. The big gray coyote lunged forward, picked up the cub and was gone. For a moment there, I thought she was lunging for me. As she disappeared into the shadows, I breathed a sigh of relief, but through all my nervousness and fear, I still felt a sense of satisfaction.

Coyotes Appear

Once I composed myself, I started walking again. This time, I realized I was getting fatigued and didn't know how much longer I could continue. I guess I walked about twenty minutes when I became very conscience of the loud howling of the coyote pack. My adrenaline started to pump, and once again I felt the sensation of fear running through my body. As a reaction, I started to walk fast and even broke into a run but continually stumbled on the vegetation and rocks. Then I saw them, the entire pack of coyotes dead in front of me. This time I figured I was dead for sure. Suddenly the big gray that brought the pup to me stood clearly in front of the pack. She glared at me through those slanted piercing eyes and walked ever so slowly toward me. I was frozen and didn't move a muscle. I don't even think I swallowed my saliva. When she reached my feet, she turned quickly as if to say, "Follow me." To be honest, I was exhausted, frightened, and had just about given up, so following the coyote seem to be the only choice I had.

Saved!

I followed her for about an hour. The pack and the big gray were very careful not to leave me behind and kept circling me. Suddenly, as if a miracle had occurred, I saw the entrance where I entered the forest. They led me home to safety. The entire pack was well behind me now, and as I looked back, I could see the big gray howling at the moon, and I said aloud "Thanks, thanks a lot."  I am now an old man and have lived in Arizona for over seventy years. When the night is very clear and the stars shine like diamonds with the moon yellow and bright, in the shadow of my mind, I still hear the coyotes howling and remember that little cub that I held in the palm of my hand a long, long time ago. 

Second Place. Russian Visitors and Large Animals 

By John H. Thompson 

            Recently, we had some Carefree visitors from Russia. These old friends were interested in the “Arizona experience,” and our desire to fulfill that wish provided all of us with something considerably beyond what we expected. We toured the usual spots for visitors. They enjoyed Rawhide, of course, and showed considerable interest in the Heard North Museum. They happily rummaged through el Pedregal, looking for items to take home for friends and family. As we wandered around Cave Creek, we enjoyed their amazement that there could be such a place in a modern and up to date country like America. We explained, “Out here, we like it this way!”

            We motored through Carefree Highlands, taking in the wildflower beauty, giving names to the creosote bush, brittlebush, saguaro, barrel cactus and prickly pear. Vladimir admired the saguaros, while Gabbi, his wife, loved the desert marigolds. Christina, their nine year old daughter, decided the Chuparosa was her favorite when she learned the humming birds delighted in its nectar. She also was thrilled with the animals we were able to see – javelinas, rabbits, coyotes, bobcats, along with a plethora of desert birds. But Christy was not satisfied.  “Can’t we see some big animals?” she asked.

            “We can sure try”, I said.

            We headed for Los Cedros, home of prize Arabians, armed with a big bag of carrots. Christy smiled broadly at seeing the beautiful residents of that handsome facility. She liked seeing the friendly horses and being able to pet them. It didn’t take us long to run out of carrots, and her to loose her smile. “This is really great,” she said, “but I actually meant big wild animals. You do have those, don’t you?”

            “I guess we had better try harder!” I said.  We piled in the jeep and headed for the McDowell Mountains, perhaps to find a few desert mule deer. Nothing! We turned around and headed up to Cave Creek Road. Turning east, toward Seven Springs and the lakes, we slowed down and peered hopefully for animals on both sides. Then we headed for Bartlett Lake, and turned off the main road onto the four-wheeler tracks. After a couple of miles – there! on the horizon, some large animals! I pulled off under a mesquite tree and we piled out.

            Trotting along in a Neanderthal stoop, we wound through the dry wash up to hill top for a closer view. There were some big, but definitely odd looking critters outlined against the sky a short distance away. We took off in pursuit to identify the lumbering beasts, so Christina could add them to her report of animals seen — coyotes, javelina, quail, bobcats, etc., when she got home.

            As the short stalk continued, we topped the hill, and our eyes popped! Four wild camels, obviously a family group, parents and two younger beasts, were gazing at us with considerably more calm than we were feeling. They seemed quite unperturbed, staring quizzically at their observers. “We assumed it was the first time they had ever seen any Russians,” said my indefatigable spouse.

            We explained that the United States Cavalry had experimented briefly in the late 1800s with a “Camel Corps,” and that from time to time descendants of those camels that escaped or were turned loose still could be seen trooping about the Sonoran Desert.

            Cristina was beaming, and observed wryly, “I hoped to see Meeky Mouse when I came to Amerika, but instead, I got to see “Joe Camel!”