Shock and awe in Medford at presence of coyotes

With its chain-link fences and tidy patches of lawn, Gibson Street in Medford isn't the first place Animal Planet is likely to set up its cameras. So, Joyce Pantone Rodrigues, understandably, was surprised when she looked out her kitchen window on a recent morning and saw a coyote staring back.

"At first I thought it was a fox or a wolf. I didn't know what it was," said Rodrigues, who identified the furry, sleek-snouted creature with the help of her husband and quickly notified several neighbors, as well as the state. "I never in a million years expected to see a coyote in my backyard."

Most have had the same reaction to the coyotes spotted regularly of late in this section of the city, roughly a half-mile east of Interstate 93 and the Mystic River, although opinions about the presence of the animals vary widely. The children, and some of the adults, are enthralled; others are indifferent, while still others want the coyotes eradicated by almost any means necessary. At a recent meeting, city councilors expressed concern for public safety and demanded immediate coyote relocation or action. Councilor Robert M. Penta suggested the use of a "stun gun."

That's not going to happen, because coyotes are protected, local and state wildlife officials said. Relocating them is illegal and could endanger the animals and pose a threat to people. The alternative, euthanasia, is reserved for the rare cases when coyotes become aggressive.

Instead, officials said, people should try to make their neighborhoods less attractive to coyotes. That means scaring them back to the wild - shouting, clapping, hose-spraying, and tennis ball-throwing all work - as well as closing off crawl spaces where coyotes could nest, securing trash cans, and keeping pets supervised.

People could also make peace with coyotes, which roam every community in the region, and which eat mice, insects, and other vermin, not just garbage and house cats, officials said. "They're here, and they're pretty much here to stay," said Patrick Hogan, Medford's animal control officer.

Massachusetts has an estimated 10,000 coyotes, and they live in every city and town except for the islands, said Thomas O'Shea, assistant director of wildlife for the state Division of Fisheries and Wildlife. Coyotes are rarely a threat; only three attacks on human beings have been recorded in Massachusetts since coyotes migrated to the state about 50 years ago, O'Shea said.

Although coyotes fear people and traffic, they adapt well to suburban and even urban settings. They typically live in mating pairs and claim feeding territories of up to 30 square miles, which other coyotes avoid. They eat what they can easily obtain - rodents, berries, pet food, pizza crusts, cats.

"Having outdoor cats is almost like ringing a dinner bell for coyotes," said Stephanie Doucette, animal control officer in Lexington, which has multiple coyote families.

Spotting a coyote might mean its den is close by, but more likely it means the coyote is out looking for food or roaming its territory. Coyotes regularly walk the perimeter of their territory to mark it with scent, she said.

Hogan said he has received several calls in Medford from concerned or curious residents in recent months, and he believes the coyotes live in an area roughly bounded by the Mystic River, I-93, Salem Street, and the Fellsway. He has spotted at least two - one is missing the characteristic bushy tail - repeatedly.

"I test them every time I see them, and they won't let me get within 15 to 20 yards of them, so they're definitely not a threat to people," Hogan said. He has encouraged people to make their yards less coyote-friendly, to encourage the animals to shift toward the city's wooded, commercial, or industrial areas.

Rodrigues called the coyote beautiful. "So majestic," she said. Next door, Joe Steeves said his son and the other local children revere the coyote as an elusive mascot, scouting the neighborhood for it. But Joey Jr., 9, said some have become angry at the coyote, or afraid of it. He said one friend last week blamed the coyote after her recently deceased hamster had been unearthed from its backyard grave.

"I said, 'You can't just blame the coyote,' " said Joey, a third-grader. "It could've been a raccoon. It could've been a cat. It could've been a squirrel."

Hogan has been trying to educate residents about the wildlife that shares space with the street-hockey nets and corner stores in Medford. Recently, someone phoned in about a bear.

"That was a little hair-raising," said Hogan, who was relieved to arrive on scene and discover not a bear but a beaver - though the resident was unconvinced.

"I think once we were able to startle it and it swam away with a big flat tail," Hogan said, "he believed it wasn't a bear."

Eric Moskowitz can be reached at emoskowitz@globe.com.