WHEELING — The signs are subtle. There’s a neighborhood Facebook post backed up by a blurry photo, a sudden wild yipping that sounds like poodles gone mad, a canine track in the mud in a place where dogs don’t freely roam.

The conclusion is less vague.

“There’s definitely an urban coyote population,” said Thomas Pratt, District 1 wildlife biologist for the state Division of Natural Resources. Pratt, based in Farmington, includes all of the Northern Panhandle in his 12-county region.

There’s not a ton of the animals, though. The DNR estimates about 11,000 coyotes call the Mountain State home. Spread out evenly across West Virginia’s massive stands of woods — that’s a mere one animal per square mile.

But, some of the wild canines — which Pratt said made it to this state from their native American West in the 1970s and are believed to have bulked up along the way by interbreeding with timber wolves living in the Great Lakes region — have developed a preference for city living.

Pratt explained populated neighborhoods provide such attractions as ripe garbage bags, pet food that’s handily left in bowls on porches and bird feeders whose spillage tends to attract a steady stream of nocturnal rodents. (A point to ponder: One uber-urbanite coyote wandered into a Quiznos restaurant in Chicago’s Loop in 2007.)

“They’ve been able to find a niche in urban areas,” he said. And, when it comes to coyotes choosing West Virginia’s more populated areas, he added, a niche is all that it is.

GOING SOLO

In fact, some coyotes that Wheeling residents believe to be nearby may not actually be there at all.

For one thing, Pratt said coyotes aren’t pack animals in the same sense that wolves are. Coyotes tend to travel and hunt alone, he noted, adding that even small family groups often separate.

So, that yippee-ki-yaying that might sound like a massive pack is more likely “one coyote being really vocal,” he said.

“They can change their voice,” Pratt explained, noting even listeners participating in scientific studies have been fooled as to the number of vocalizing animals present. “They can go from a yip to a howl to something in between.”

In West Virginia, topography adds to the confusion. Pratt said a coyote that is already plenty loud on his own can be amplified to the point that he sounds like he’s both a multitude and freakishly close.

“As long as there’s not food, there’s really no reason for them to be in your backyard,” Pratt countered.

KEEP AWAY, OR NOT

Which brings up an important point, he noted. Some states — particularly California, which has the largest coyote population in the nation — have what could be viewed as a coyote problem.

There, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife estimates between 250,000 and 750,000 coyote residents. Mix that much wildlife with a large human population and attacks on pets and people, particularly small children, have occurred and are increasing in number. Division statistics indicated this is particularly true in Los Angeles County and other heavily populated parts of Southern California.

Pratt said West Virginia coyotes, in contrast, are in much lower concentration and maintain a fear of humans as they are still hunted and trapped for their pelts. Rather than being prone to attack, “they do good out there,” he said of their position as a top predator keeping small-animal populations — we’re looking at you, alley-lurking rats — in check.

If residents — rural or urban — would prefer these newish wild things to keep away, however, Pratt said that’s easy enough to accomplish.

Don’t leave pet food outside overnight, when coyotes are most likely to be on the prowl, he advised. Don’t allow bird seed to accumulate to the point it is attracting rodents. Keep garbage secured in lidded cans.

(Some additional tips from California — do not attempt to hand feed coyotes, keep household pets and small children supervised in locations where coyotes are known to be present and make frightening noises — think a pot and a spoon — whenever coyotes are spotted so they stay wary of people.)

“If there’s no food for them, they’re just going to move on,” Pratt said of West Virginia’s more likely reality. “They might look brave … but they will avoid humans any time they can.”

Pratt noted that the flipside of the fear of wildlife is fascination. In his home community, he said there are times of the year when a weekly test of a fire siren falls around dusk. He always stops whatever he’s doing to listen for a tell-tale howl from a nearby hillside.

“Most of the time,” he said. “I usually hear at least one answering back to it.”