Wildlife News You Won’t See on Mainstream Media

0
5
Coyote staring directly at camera from porch at night.
Coyote staring directly at camera from porch at night.

Hidden wildlife stories are the only part of the internet that still feels alive to me these days. I’m typing this in my den, feet up on a coffee table that’s got too many water rings, window cracked because it’s one of those weird warm February nights where it’s 68° at 10 p.m. and I can hear leaves scraping across the driveway like tiny footsteps. Something’s out there again. Probably the same damn coyote.

Mainstream doesn’t touch this stuff. They’ll run a feel-good piece about pandas in China or a polar bear on melting ice for the thousandth time, but the actual animals that have learned how to parallel park next to our trash cans? Radio silence unless it’s clickbait tragedy.

That Coyote That Basically Pays Rent Here Now

I’ve got footage. Not National Geographic footage—Ring doorbell footage that’s half motion blur and half porch light glare. Wednesday nights, 2-something a.m., same coyote trots down the sidewalk like he’s late for a shift. Stops at my blue bin every single time, sniffs, decides whether it’s worth the effort, then moves on to the next house. He’s got a limp on the back left leg now; I noticed it last week. Makes me feel weirdly guilty, like maybe I should leave out a bowl of kibble or something. Then I remember he’d probably eat the bowl too.

First time I saw him that close I was standing at the kitchen sink rinsing a plate and legit dropped it. Shattered everywhere. Dog lost her mind barking, I’m whispering “shut up shut up” like the coyote’s gonna call the HOA on me. Hidden wildlife stories aren’t poetic. They’re awkward and they make you question whether your $7-a-month security subscription is actually protecting anything.

Coyote paw prints on dewy driveway with Crocs for scale.
Coyote paw prints on dewy driveway with Crocs for scale.

Here’s what I’ve noticed around here lately:

  • Coyotes hitting the same trash night every week like they read the calendar app
  • Deer casually crossing four-lane roads at dusk, drivers slamming brakes, nobody films it because it’s “normal” now
  • Raccoons that figured out how to open the latch on my compost tumbler—little criminals

None of it makes the evening news unless somebody’s small dog goes missing and then it’s five seconds of outrage before the next segment.

The Baby Gator Incident I Still Haven’t Fully Processed

Summer before last I’m walking the dog behind the old shopping plaza—the one with the perpetually empty nail salon and the vape shop that smells like burnt cotton candy from fifty yards away. There’s this scummy little retention pond nobody looks at twice. Dog starts pulling hard, hackles up.

I look down.

Two-foot alligator. Just floating there, prehistoric eyes locked on us. Not huge, but definitely not a log. I scoop the dog so fast I tweak my shoulder and spend a week sleeping on the couch with ice packs. Googled it later—turns out juvenile gators show up in storm drains and ponds around here way more than the state wants to advertise. One article from a local paper three years ago, then nothing. Poof.

I still walk past that pond. I look harder now. Hidden wildlife stories like that one don’t go away just because we pretend they’re rare.

Why the Big Networks Pretend This Isn’t Happening

I don’t have tinfoil-hat energy most days, but come on. The incentives are obvious.

A lion cub rescue in Kenya with swelling orchestral music? Emmy bait.
A coyote pack learning to hunt house cats in subdivisions outside Raleigh or Phoenix or wherever you live? That’s a zoning-meets-ecology problem that might make somebody question why we keep paving everything. Harder to monetize concern when the solution isn’t “donate here” but “maybe stop building cookie-cutter neighborhoods over wetlands.”

Feral hogs tearing through soybean fields in the Midwest, pythons choking out the Everglades, javelinas rooting up golf courses in Arizona—those stories bubble up on Reddit or local Facebook groups for a week, then vanish. Too regional. Too inconvenient.

Small alligator eyes in retention pond, Dollar General sign reflected through rainy car window.
Small alligator eyes in retention pond, Dollar General sign reflected through rainy car window.

The Half-Assed Things I Actually Do Now

I’m not some off-grid warrior. I still order DoorDash when I’m lazy.

But:

  • Double-bag anything bloody or greasy before trash day
  • Started using those metal trash can straps after the raccoons turned my bin into a salad bar
  • Keep the dog on a four-foot leash near any water or thick brush
  • Drop quick reports into the state wildlife app when I see something weird (feels pointless but whatever)

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here