A very good friend of mine was on a walk on a greenway in South Carolina. He saw toddlers playing in their backyard. Suddenly, a coyote charged him and attacked.
After a fierce battle, my buddy managed to kick and stomp the critter to death. He decided he would go back to his pickup to get his phone so he could take a picture, because no one was going to believe this story. He also picked up his hunting knife.
When he got back to the place where he was attacked, there was no sign of the coyote. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur charging him. It was the same coyote. Either he hadn’t killed it after all, or this was a zombie coyote. He kicked and stomped it to death again. Then he sliced the animal’s throat, just to be sure. He placed the body high in a tree branch and called authorities.
It turned out the coyote was indeed rabid. And my friend had broken some bones in his leg during the battle. He didn’t have any cuts, so he was spared the Rabies shots.
He doesn’t go for a walk in the woods without a gun, now.
We now call my friend Coyote Killer.
That coyote could have easily killed those toddlers that were playing in their backyard.