A generally accepted origin story of the eastern coyote is the smaller western coyote moved east and interbred with wolves and dogs along the way. Coyotes got larger and more wolflike. While this resulted in a different coyote, The Conversation explains:
there is no sign that they are still actively mating with dogs or wolves. The coyote, wolf and dog are three separate species that would very much prefer not to breed with each other. However, biologically speaking, they are similar enough that interbreeding is possible.
An exciting alternative is presented by Paul Rezendes in Tracking & The Art of Seeing (which I referenced heavily when I wrote about scat).
He explains the idea that the eastern coyote has maybe always been here, is indigenous to where we see it now.
Long ago, woodsmen [in the Northeast] distinguished two kinds of wolves—large wolves and small wolves. They called the large wolf the eastern timber wolf and the small one the brush wolf, a term that survives in folklore but has no scientific credibility. Recent efforts to find archaeological evidence of wolves in Maine, however, have not yet confirmed that there were ever any timber wolves in the state. This suggests the possibility that what used to be called the brush wolf was in fact the eastern coyote and that these animals have always been there, surviving in small pocket populations in the eastern states and/or Canada and expanding their ranges when bounties on their hides disappeared and farmland reverted to forests.
I love that. Is it true? I do not know. Is it true in my head? Doesn’t matter, but it isn’t untrue. I’m not an expert and am readily convinced of what I’d like to believe.
I’ve done the requisite mental gymnastics to believe both stories could be true—that there are eastern coyotes and brush wolves. I’ll reiterate: These are mental gymnastics I did because I wanted to. Perhaps some of the bigger canids we see in New England and the east are coyotes, eastern coyotes that gained size. Others could be lingering brush wolves.
When an eastern coyote is notably large or wolflike, in my head I entertain the thought it’s potentially a brush wolf. These animals are also often referred to as “coywolves.” That term is can of worms.
If you’re interested in that creepy crawly can, look into Roland Kays. He prefers they are called “eastern coyotes.” Or read here, where it is explained “there is a new presence on the East Coast that combines the genes from coyotes, wolves and dogs,” and that the term coywolf “is descriptive, but it doesn’t really resolve anything for management of the animals.” Also peruse Eastern Coyote/Coywolf Research’s website. Or you can read here too, that Conversation article I already referenced, about “a hybrid canid living in the eastern US…the result of an amazing evolution story unfolding right underneath our noses.” Or merely google “coywolf.”
I spend time perusing stories about especially wolflike eastern coyotes. In my head they could be brush wolves. There are places a brush wolf feels more like a possibility. Other places feel more suited for coyotes—the thick of suburbia, cities.
I am fortunate that for a long time I’ve often birded a specific spot with plenty of coyotes. I’ve seen them there, an exciting change of pace from avians. But those coyotes looked too slight to be potential brush wolves.
There’s a trail (a reliable Horned Grebe spot) where it’s also not uncommon to find scat. If I see some, I sometimes—most times—take a picture, send it to people.
I am less embarrassed by my scat excitement lately. No, I am not a scat aficionado. That doesn’t mean I can’t like it—just as a hockey fan doesn’t need to be Auston Matthews to want to watch the Leafs. It says here: “Scientists and outdoor enthusiasts alike get excited when they come across a peculiar piece of scat.” For me, it doesn’t even need to be peculiar. Just scat. But I already wrote about scat; I wanted this to be about coyotes.
I have some not-great photos of coyotes by that Horned Grebe spot. Pulled over to frantically take them through my windshield. They’re not good enough to include here, and I deleted them anyway. Healthy coyotes, but they don’t give brush wolf vibes.
Your typical western coyote is about 30 pounds. Mass.gov elucidates: “Typical weights for [female eastern coyotes] are 33-40 pounds,” so not that different than western. “Males typically weigh 34-47 pounds.” Again, not that different—unless you’re comparing a 30 lb. western side by side with a 47 lb. eastern. “A very large male may weigh in the neighborhood of 60 pounds, but such an animal is exceptional.”
Regarding “coywolves,” The Verge states:
Canis latrans var., the coywolf is the newest top predator of the east coast, ranging from Florida to Maine and up into Canada…They weigh between 35 and 45 pounds…Their genetic makeup is roughly 65 percent coyote, 25 percent wolf, and 10 percent dog.
With eastern coyotes, and canids in general, it’s fun to embrace a little bit of the unknown. Is that a coyote? Eastern coyote? Coywolf? Brush wolf? As much as it might seem to matter, it really doesn’t in most contexts. There are some contexts where what you call an animal is important—like when managing a species—but if you’re just observing, it’s less important. Don’t bother the animal, don’t feed it, watch from a distance and enjoy.
On the topic of embracing the unknown, in 2012 an avid coyote hunter in Newfoundland, Joe Fleming, shot what he believed to be a coyote. The animal weighed 82 pounds, “nearly twice the weight of a normal coyote.” This led to speculation as to what it actually was.
“I haven’t seen anything like it before,” he told local media. “I haven’t seen a track like it before.”
Wildlife officials believed it was a coyote, one that happened to be large and fairly wolflike. The Newfoundland Wolf has been listed as extinct for a century—no wolf populations on the island, just the occasional individual. In 1839, a bounty was placed on the wolf’s head. Come 1930 wolves were history.
But a coyote that large and wolflike? The province conducted DNA tests on the animal. It was a wolf. There have been other supposed wolf sightings in Newfoundland since then.
Newfoundland is not far from Labrador, where wolves are found. Are wolves making their way from Labrador to Newfoundland? Perhaps. A CBC story referred to this 82 lb. animal as “a wolf that likely migrated to the island from Labrador on sea ice.” Fleming went on to say he would not have shot the animal had he known it was a wolf.
There are also “Botwood beasts” in Newfoundland. Hybrids of eastern coyotes and wolves. Hybridization is something you encounter a lot when you read stories like this. There’ll be a notable canid. Wolf? Coyote? Both? Neither?
As much as I love to know what things are, what to call them, it is also okay to not know.
I initially planned to have this be a longer attempt at explaining potential origin stories—eastern coyotes, wolves in Newfoundland. There is a lot there, so I’m saving it. And I’m just a layman, perhaps too fond of going down rabbit holes of this nature.
The more I’ve looked into all of this, my takeaway has been that it is okay not to specifically know all the details of such a story all the time. It sometimes doesn’t matter. What matters is an interesting animal showed up somewhere, did something, maybe got errantly killed, caused some confusion, provided a learning experience. Something we all can learn from, regardless of where the story happened.
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