The Trickster or The Messenger?

I looked out my kitchen window and saw Coyote in the rain.  He approached gingerly from the west, passing by two of my favorite thinking rocks where I sometimes like to sit alone and think a lot.  He crossed over the swollen little creek where a Bullfrog Friend of mine once lived.  Walking right up to the wooden fence, he poked his nose through and sniffed.  He might have been looking for Rabbit.  Finding nothing of interest, he moseyed on his way.  I watched as he sauntered through our neighbor's yard and disappeared without a sound:  not a single Dog barked to mark his passing.  I wondered if it made him sad, having caused not even the slightest stir. Or perhaps, instead, he felt rather pleased, imagining himself invisible on his soggy, solo trek through town.