"Jack, you hold so still!"
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"Ah, Dog, you see so well!"
"I see you hunch in some brambles, rabbit."
"Worse than it looks, too. Take after me and I'll lead you through every briar patch between here and Kansas."
"Suspicious, as usual."
"Your menu's transparent, Coyote. But I ain't no bunny, sonny, I got these back legs from runnin'. You've seen them before, from behind. Leavin' you."
"Yeah, well, thanks for the invite, but I'll beg off this time, Jack, I smell me 3-day-old buffalo upwind."
"Yeah, caught that. Upwind's a good place for you. Save you some exercise."
"Yeah, yeah, Jack. Sure.
"Whadda you smirkin' at, human? Dead buffalo don't move around, like a Jack. Come along, if you want - curious about you.
You humans call yourselves homo sapiens, the one who knows, right? I think homo pretentious suits you better, you claim to be the ones who think things through. Homo braggart, maybe - homo exaggerans. Admit it, you're not really primates, are you? Real primates ponder, and suck their opposable thumbs. Your type scratches his head and throws words at everything. As if everything had a reason that needed explaining. Never make a salesman.
Like this buffalo scent; you watch this:
I come up on it way after dark, there's four wolves into the carcass, already, they're scarfing heavy, and I'm close when one snarls, "Beat it, dog," and I circle around upwind, and run into more scent coming from upslope.
Up the slope, I come up on the hunters' tent, in the darkness, I can hear them breathing inside, asleep.
The smell's coming from their stretcher frame, outside, they've pegged off the skin, stretching it across the frame, curing, and I start pulling out the pegs with teeth, softly, and pretty soon the hide falls off, over me, hair side out, and I trot back down the hill wearing the hide, edges brushing across the grass, thinking, "Whoo! Wait til the boys see this!"
When the wolves smell the hide, I go to huffin' and snortin' and pawin' the dirt, loud, thinking big.
And them wolves back off a step.
And I walk, huffin' and puffin' and snortin' up on top of that pile, and they back off another half a step.
And I pig out, a-slobberin', and a-snortin', and a-howlin' and a-huffin', til I'm down to the huffin' and the puffin', and runnin' out of room for them, and the biggest wolf takes a whole step forwards and whines, "S'cuse me, mister buffalo, but ain't yew done with yore mournin' yet?" And I can't move, I can't even breathe.
But those buffalo bones below me, hearin' all that huffin' and snortin' and pawin' the dirt, and me sounding so convincing, they forget they died, and they stand right up in that skin with me, and say, "Why, Coyote, what are you doin' here?"
And lookin' down out them beady eyes, I forget, and I say, "I come to help you get rid of these damned wolves!"
And the wolves get a hell of a fright, and I go for a hell of a ride. But the hunters, because they do not care for the meat, lose both the skin and the bones.