In my long-developed suburban neighborhood, I have spotted deer, fox, raccoons, possums, skunks, groundhogs, bald eagles and one seriously bad-assed hawk that likes to leave the blood and feathers of its kills scattered all over my driveway. To that list, I now add an unwelcome addition: Coyote.

I first spotted a coyote a few months back roaming across a golf course near my house. Then, about a month ago, my wife and I spotted one when we took our dog on a walk. And last night, I had an encounter that can only be described as creepy.

I was taking the dog out for his nightly walk when I went past a wooded park near our house. I always bring a flashlight when I walk in the dark, and I shined the light into a large, open field in the park. And, as is the case on occasion, two eyes shined back at me from a distance.

I couldn’t see what kind of animal was in the brush, and with an insane Jack Russell terrier on the line with me, I wasn’t about to go in there and find out. Instead, I turned my back on the field and walked up a side street.

After a few seconds, some feeling made me turn back around. I shined the flashlight on the field again — and there was the coyote, standing at the edge of the field, stock-still.

Little dogs are tasty coyote snacks. I walked backwards for the next block, keeping an eye on the predator (who did not move one hair on his body). And I think I’ll change my walking route.