The wind is howling. So are the coyotes.  And the neighborhood dogs.  I have a flashback to many years ago when we first moved to this mountain. There were few people then, fewer dogs.  The wind still howled but the one canine who sang along was a wolf named Cheyenne.

It's nostalgic except for the slight worry about the coyotes.  There are many more people up here now.  Prey.  When I grew up out west the coyotes rarely moved in close to human habitat.  Now they nestle among us, hunt in our yards, move about in the sunlight.  I look for them as I look for the bears when I go out these days.  Things change.

But the wild still exists, just closer.  The sounds made by the untamed harder to hear over the sounds of civilization.  The music made by nature hasn't been muted but seems to be merging with the raucous grinding played by man.   It's a strange symphony.