Remember Hal the coyote, who bravely made his way into Manhattan and found himself in Central Park, chased by a bunch of humans?

Well, they killed him.

I don’t know about you, but I find this pointless death upsetting, and I’m hard-pressed to understand the flip tone—”Hal’s birthplace was unknown, as was his birthday”—of the New York Times piece linked to above. The return of wild animals to this country’s urban sprawl—and, sometimes, even Central Park—is one of the few pieces of environmental good news there is, and it makes our lives a little nicer. (Was there anyone in Manhattan who wasn’t delighted by the pictures of Hal in the papers?) We should see such animals as a sign of hope that maybe the rest of the planet can survive the enormous damage we are inflicting upon it…

RIP, Hal.