Skip to main content

Wandering Wolf Part II

We've been here longer. We predate your written records. You with the guns and money. You who build fences and slaughter for other reasons. We predate you.
Our math was the arithmatic of necessity. Take away only what yo need. Add to the sum total of all things in harmony. Know why you multiply. Divide when it is time. Your fearful army is saying we kill their cattle. Hardly. We take elk first. Cattle only if we must. The numbers are truth tellers. More cattle die from natural causes. Or coyotes, or weather, climate and conditions. They die from lightning or drought, flood and fire. We take a few only when survival is at stake. Thousands die each year never having been close to one of our number.
The places you call Montana and Idaho are the worst. Pompous, self-appointed leaders blaspheme our heritage, those who support our right to that heritage,and anyone who would embrace a tree. We embrace trees too.


The money handlers with lightning sticks will not survive. Their time here does not sustain. It destroys. Their time here is brief. We've seen sun and rain. Hail and heat. Snow and sand for ages. Only what contributes to balance will survive.
So I move. 700 miles and counting. I'm here now in a quiet valley. Looking, sniffing, plotting my course. Tomorrow another river to cross. But I can follow the bank, skipping over boulders, wading side eddies until just the right log jam makes my crossing possible.
They think I'm looking for their sheep, their newborn calf. A white rabbit, a chicken in a wire box. I prefer elk. But my eyes seek only one thing. She will make me whole. She will aid my survival. She thinks too of the day we will reunite. My mate is my only motivation now. For her, I eat snow, spawned out salmon, wild grass, road kill. I kill if I must; it's the way of my ancestors too. But this is not a sport for me. I require no license. I do not want to be near you. I truly hope we can co-exist. But know this, I have every intention of surviving.

Comments

troutbirder said…
What a wonderful story. I really enjoyed it. Thanks...

Popular posts from this blog

To a Tee

 I'm a sucker for a good t-shirt.  They are the foundational garment of my life.  My day starts with selecting a t-shirt and it ends with sleeping in one.  Once thought of as under garments, t-shirts are now original art and no doubt, a billion dollar business.   You can get a t-shirt with anybody's picture displayed.  You can commemorate an event, a birthday, a death, even a specular play in any sport.  Family reunions usually have a commemorative t-shirt.  Also, any organization that solicits your support in the form of a donation is likely to offer you a t-shirt. Where once I only had the basic white t-shirt, my drawers are filled with all manner of colorful choices.  Some recognize major events in my life, some, spectacular performances or plays I have witnessed, and some unforgettable places I have been.   I say I'm a sucker for a good t-shirt because I have taken the bait on what I perceived as a must-have only to be disappointed. ...

Illusory

What does it take to enrage you?  That moment when your words fly on pure emotion because enough is enough.  Is it a driver that cuts you off at high speed?  What about being an eyewitness to blatant racism or on the receiving end of some obvious injustice? I know some people who never express rage.  I admire them but know full well I am not capable of such distance from that which would bring about such a strong response. Another senseless shooting and 7 people die at the hands of a mentally ill gun owner.  The father of the 20 year old college student lets it fly and somehow millions feel a new sense of relief.  He calls the politicians bastards who do nothing, he wears his pain in public.  The news media responds but we all know that nothing is going to change.  We are the gun country.  We are the place where anybody, anytime, can be cut down just for being there when somebody else snaps. Usually the perpetrators are delusional. ...

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...