A Yellowstone National Park coyote known as Limpy, famous for faking a dramatic limp to coax food from passing tourists, is now 8 to 9 years old and visibly slowing down. The animal’s well-documented con has entertained and frustrated park visitors for years, but recent observations suggest his aging body may finally be catching up with his tricks. His story raises a pointed question: has the very behavior that kept him fed also put him and other coyotes in greater danger?
The Coyote Con Artist of Lamar Valley
Limpy first drew wide attention in early 2024 when observers in Lamar Valley noticed a coyote hobbling along the roadside with what appeared to be a painful injury. Wildlife photographer Isabella Smedley described the animal walking down the road with a sad demeanor, drawing sympathy from drivers who slowed or stopped. But something did not add up. The severity of the limp changed depending on the audience: it was far more pronounced near cars and noticeably less severe when the coyote moved away from the road. Regulars began calling the animal Limpy, though some also use the nicknames Chester or Tripod.
The origin of the coyote’s injury has never been confirmed. What is clear, based on repeated eyewitness accounts, is that Limpy learned to exaggerate whatever real ailment he has in order to solicit food from visitors. A 2024 report from Local News 8 noted that he would intensify his limp as vehicles approached, then move more easily once the opportunity for handouts passed. The routine worked well enough that by spring 2024, wildlife observers reported other coyotes picking up on the scam and following Limpy’s lead, effectively learning roadside begging from his example. That development turned a quirky individual story into a broader concern about habituation spreading through the local coyote population.
Signs of Age After Years of Roadside Tricks
After laying low through the winter of 2024 into 2025, Limpy reappeared in spring 2025, still working his routine near roadsides. Observers confirmed the limp was real but continued to note its theatrical escalation near tourists. His approximate age at that point was already drawing concern, with at least one person consulted estimating him to be well past the typical lifespan for a wild coyote in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem. That context matters, because coyotes face constant pressure from harsh winters, competition with wolves and bears, and the hazards of crossing busy park roads.
As of February 2026, Limpy is estimated at 8 to 9 years old and visibly starting to show his age. That figure is significant when measured against the National Park Service’s own overview of coyotes in Yellowstone, which notes that vehicle collisions and human-caused conflicts are major mortality factors. Limpy has outlasted many of his wild peers, but his slower pace and diminished energy suggest his body is paying the price for years spent close to traffic. Wildlife photographer Deby Dixon, who has tracked the coyote, believes Limpy still has the will to live, though the physical decline is hard to miss when he shuffles along the roadside he once patrolled with far more vigor.
Why Feeding Wildlife Breaks Federal Law
Limpy’s story is not just a feel-good animal tale. It sits at the center of a real enforcement problem. Federal regulations under 36 CFR 2.2 explicitly prohibit feeding, touching, teasing, frightening, or intentionally disturbing wildlife on National Park Service lands. Yellowstone spokesperson Linda Veress has repeatedly emphasized that feeding wildlife is illegal, a message the park pairs with roadside signs and ranger contacts. Yellowstone’s enforcement framework combines these federal rules with a site-specific Superintendent’s Compendium, most recently approved in January 2026, which highlights 36 CFR 2.2 among the most commonly cited prohibitions in the park and clarifies that violations can lead to fines or mandatory court appearances.
The law exists for a direct reason: animals that associate humans with food lose their natural wariness, spend more time near roads, and face a sharply higher risk of being struck by vehicles or involved in aggression incidents. In Limpy’s case, his entire survival strategy depends on lingering near cars, which is exactly the behavior the regulations are designed to prevent. Every tourist who tosses food from a window reinforces the pattern and, critically, teaches nearby coyotes that the tactic works. That is the mechanism behind the 2024 reports of other coyotes mimicking Limpy’s begging routine. If a visitor is bitten or if a coyote becomes dangerously bold, managers may have little choice but to remove the animal, turning what began as a seemingly kind gesture into a lethal outcome for wildlife.
Media Attention and the Message Reaching Tourists
Limpy’s antics might have remained a local curiosity if not for the attention of regional media outlets that cover Yellowstone and surrounding communities. Television stations licensed through the Federal Communications Commission, such as Idaho Falls–based KIFI, have carried segments and online reports explaining how the coyote exaggerates his limp to draw sympathy from drivers. Those stories often pair striking roadside footage with reminders from rangers that feeding wildlife is illegal, using Limpy’s fame as a hook to reinforce park rules for a much broader audience than a single pullout in Lamar Valley could reach.
Neighboring broadcasters have played a similar role. Stations including KIDK and low-power outlet K34NC-D maintain public files documenting their service obligations, and coverage of Yellowstone wildlife behavior fits squarely within that public-interest mission. By spotlighting Limpy’s story, they give wildlife experts and park officials a platform to explain why a limping coyote begging beside the road is not cute enrichment but a warning sign of habituation. The more visitors encounter that message before they arrive at the park, the more likely they are to resist the impulse to toss a snack when Limpy, or a younger imitator, hobbles into view.
A Legacy That Could Outlast Limpy Himself
Most coverage of Limpy treats him as a charming trickster, and there is no denying the appeal of a coyote clever enough to fake an injury for snacks. But the more useful lens is behavioral. Limpy has demonstrated, over at least two full years of documented observation, that human-fed habituation can spread socially among coyotes. Wildlife observers noted as early as March 2024 that other coyotes were copying the roadside begging scam. That means the risk to park wildlife does not hinge on one aging animal. It hinges on whether the behavior he modeled persists in younger coyotes who learned it by watching him and now test the same boundaries with visitors.
Park managers face a delicate balancing act: acknowledging the fascination animals like Limpy inspire while insisting that visitors keep their distance. Legal frameworks such as the Department of the Interior’s No FEAR Act emphasize transparency and accountability in federal agencies, and that ethic extends to how parks communicate about controversial wildlife situations. In Limpy’s case, that has meant frank public statements that he is old, vulnerable, and at heightened risk precisely because people have fed him. His legacy will likely be measured not only in the photos tourists took of a limping coyote along a Yellowstone road, but in whether those images convince future visitors to let wild animals stay wild, no matter how convincingly they play the part of a hungry, injured beggar.
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*This article was researched with the help of AI, with human editors creating the final content.
