The wolf came again tonight. I think he only comes when the hunt has failed for a few days and the pains in his belly drive him past the fringe of the little wood behind the house. The neighbors two black labs, Mischa, and I are the only ones who ever notice him. I’ve christened the labs owner “Crabman” since he scuttles back and forth from the car to the house to the dog run. I suspect the only time he man walks is when he escapes to the fenced backyard to play frisbee or fetch with his beloved dogs and provide them belly rubs. The instant his wife appears he shrinks back into his shell and the dogs ears and eyes fall in unison with the man, they are brothers in their fear of her. Crabman’s nickname is even more apt than the casual observer of the neighborhood is aware. His wife shrieks like a fishwife at her husband’s dogs when they explode with one of their occasional evening barking fits. Whichever I hear first, Fishwifes shrill shrewing of “shut the f*** up you **d d***ed mutts” or the labs excited barking as nights ink flows down days leavings, dripping from the naked canopy to the waiting snow crust, I know the wolf has come.
Whether it’s genetic memory from the days this little strip of wildness was part of the country’s largest contiguous forest, when the wolf would have come with a pack to call at whatever passed for a door or the disengagement most humans have for the world outside of ourselves, my landlady’s and neighbors disinterest in the wood have made co-conspirators of the three dogs and I; as no one else in the houses flanking the little wood peer out in the darkness as dusk’s dimness slides into what passes for dark in Bangor.
I wonder about the wolf, I never see two, only one shadow gliding from the woods scrubby fringe to the berry brambles in the backyard then on up to the apple tree when he is satisfied, that like it is to so many other things, the city is oblivious to his presence. There is something about the wolf which says it’s a male. When we first met I thought he was a coyote and was well enough pleased to welcome such an unexpected guest to “my” garden but then he rose to his full height, turned to look at me, and I knew that like me, he was not what he first appeared to be. Wolf sniffs ever so delicately under the apple tree for a few seconds then digs one apple from it’s snowy resting place with quick flips of his right paw, perhaps wolves are handed as he never uses his left paw to break the crust and bring his treasure to the surface. He snatches his supper up and trots to the bramble sliding through the canes with practiced grace; the thorns slide down his thick winter coat never breaking the skin and he quickly eats. He repeats this process for each apple, he ate five tonight. I think he would have liked to sate the pangs in his belly even more but my landlady came home, wolf knows exactly where to melt into the shadows so the SUV lights never catch him. Shortly thereafter Crabman let the labs out and wolf’s disgust with the dogs yammering is palpable. He doesn’t bolt for the wood when anyone pulls into one of the drives anymore since he knows by now he is invisible to them; they get out of the car and walk to their respective doors never looking up, never looking out. Tonight he sat between the apple tree and berry patch for several minutes watching me as I watched him. It occurs to me as we take each others measure that I too have grown a thick coat over the years and life’s thorns seldom bring blood on me either; far better to be wolfs sister than Crabman’s and the labs. If wolf doesn’t deign to claim me as kin he at least does not see me as a threat. Like the harbor seals and otters at Dyea, he has become accustomed to my presence. He no longer runs when I open the window to see him better and hear his footsteps on the brittle snow. My landlady tells me she sits in front of her wood stove and watches the flames dance because she longs be in the wilderness, to camp, be a part of nature. I resist the urge to tell her no matter what humans would like to think we are a part of nature, it is absurd to think we are apart from that which created us nor do I suggest she enjoy what she has in her own backyard. I refuse to betray wolf and the others who come to “my” apple tree, best they stay invisible to those who don’t see, Me and mine take care of family and wolf is brother to me.
Mom, I love this and you know how much I adore wolves if you could one day take a picture of your brother wolf…Love you mom.
Thanks for sharing
Gob.
Just Beautiful!