A female coyote, full-grown, was captured at a service station
on Division Street and taken to the Animal Care Facility on
A man up north keeps seven buffalo in an enclosure next to his
lumberyard. They gather in a woolly mass by the highway and
watch cars. Buffalo are also kept in a park at the local center
for atomic research.
A beaver took up residence in a neighborhood pond. The park
district, unable to figure how it got there, assured people
that it would undoubtedly decide to move on.
“It’s not friendly at all,” says Peter P., the man in
charge of the coyote.
“Some people raise chickens or cows. I raise buffalo,” says the
man up north. “You couldn’t really call them friendly,” says a
man from the atomic park. “They’re just not tame.”
The beaver, attempting to cross a four-lane road, was shooed
back to the pond by an indignant observer. “It’s not safe here,”
he says. “Something should be done.”
*Note: I wrote this poem back in 1984 when I was living in the Chicago area. I’m thinking not much has changed since then.
© 2016 Karen Kleis – All Rights Reserved
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