The Way of the Wolf

The Way of the Wolf

“O grandmother, what large ears you have!” “The better to hear you with.”
“O grandmother, what great eyes you have!” “The better to see you with.”
“O grandmother, what large hands you have!” “The better to take hold of you with.”
“But grandmother, what a terrible large mouth you have!” “The better to devour you!”
~ Little Red Riding Hood

I’m not a huge fan of the movement to pad the world in cotton-wool to ensure that today’s children need never have a bad experience. However, I wish Little Red Riding Hood’s parents hadn’t let her make the half hour’s journey through the woods to her grandmother’s house alone. Not only was the wretched child quite obviously uhm, developmentally challenged, her tale and others like it has contributed to one of mankind’s more reprehensible actions. Despite there never being one single authenticated account of a healthy wolf attacking a human, fear and ignorance have led to these beautiful, social and highly intelligent creatures being systematically exterminated almost to the point of extinction throughout the globe.

This thought was weighing heavily on my mind as we drove through the gates of Colorado’s Wolf and Wildlife Center, founded in 1993 by a lady named Darlene Kobobel after she rescued a two-year old wolf named Chinook. Upon receiving 15-20 phone calls a day from people wishing to surrender ‘their’ wolves she realized the necessity of providing not just a sanctuary, but an educational facility as well. Today the center conducts tours and programs that focus on dispelling myths about wolves and other wild canids and helping people appreciate the role wolves play in their ecosystems.

Our tour began with the foxes which Darlene explained had been rescued from the fur trade. Education being the key, we learned in graphic detail exactly what the lives, and deaths, of these beautiful creatures would have been like if they had fulfilled their destinies. With a twist which would have been comical if it weren’t so tragic, Darlene explained that the reason two of the foxes were white in colour, was because they had been bred that way so they could be passed off as arctic foxes and thereby command a higher price.

On then, to the wolves of which there are twelve in residence, two to each one-acre pen. We met Mika and Shunka first. As the weather is cool right now, the wolves are more active than in the summer, but there was none of the frantic pacing that you’d see with caged animals. Instead, these creatures simply wandered around, occasionally coming up to the wire to say hello. We’d all been warned to keep fingers, camera lenses and children well away from the fencing to avoid any playful theft and this was emphasized at the next pen where we were introduced to Troubles and Bandit. Troubles has a habit of snagging visitors’ gloves and shredding them the way our dogs take out squeaky toys. To date he’s snagged 54 pairs but he never managed to score any from our group.

Darlene did tell us though of the time he pinched her watch off her wrist and swallowed it whole. She was mostly concerned about what would happen when the alarm went off in a couple of hours but listen as she might, she couldn’t hear a thing. Until a couple of days later when she noticed a pile of wolf shit mysteriously beeping. After a good wash, the watch was found to be still working and while she declined to wear it any more, it can now be seen in a display case by reception.

Nikita and Princess were next. Nikita was an enormous bear of an Arctic wolf, looking something like a great Newfoundland. He spent the first three years of his life living in a 5’ x 8’ crate and when rescued; his toenails were over two inches long. His back legs had so little muscle he was unable to walk without assistance. However, he fell in love with CWWC’s first rescue wolf, Chinook and the pair were inseparable until the latter’s death in 2004.

Sabin was rescued from a college dorm where he spent his days locked in a bathroom and lived on a diet of cheetos and beer. Darlene didn’t tell us what happened to the future captains of industry who felt this was an appropriate way to treat a wild animal but hopefully it was something unpleasant. Sabin shares a pen with Raven, named because of the birds who visit her daily.

Yukon spent the first 5 months of his life at a photography farm. I was aware that most photographs one sees of ‘wild’ animals are in fact, taken in captivity, (the cost and unreliability of the animals appearing on cue makes commercial photography in the wild impractical) but I had assumed this meant animals in zoos, refuges and sanctuaries like this one. I never knew that most of the images we see on calendars, mousepads, mugs and so on are of animals raised solely for that purpose, then abandoned once they’re no longer photogenic. Yukon was on his way to a roadside zoo before CWWC adopted him.

At the last pen, we met Wakanda an incorrigible ham, and his partner, the painfully shy Akela. Wakanda is the center’s Casanova and loves to kiss the visitors’ hands through the wire. So for a few minutes, I scrunched under his chin and stared deep into those dark, beautiful eyes. I’ve never had the privilege of being this close to a wolf, my spirit animal before, but I’ll carry that moment for ever.

The park also has a couple of coyotes, rescued from a facility which bred animals for use on ‘guaranteed hunts’. Once a vehement anti-hunter, my views have mellowed somewhat, largely due to meeting people who kill for food rather than simply the sport of killing. However, I still can’t imagine what kind of deviant would enjoy a canned hunt.

The climax of the tour was when Darlene led us in a group howl. By us, I mean the visitors and the wolves. She threw back her head and performed an eerie imitation of a wolf howl, which we did our best to imitate. Dakari the coyote picked up the song and in a few moments we were joined by the wolves themselves.

Nobody can hear that primal sound without feeling their hair stand on end. Just like our ancestors did millennia ago. Thank goodness there are people like Darlene Kobobel to keep the wolf in our world.

Only 24 Hours in a Day

05:30- Huh? What? That beeping noise…what is it? Ohfercryinoutloud, it can’t be the alarm already, I’ve only been in bed five minutes! Ughhhhh, I frickin’ hate mornings.

05:35- Yes, I know I said I was going to exercise before leaving for work this morning, but that was at 10pm, with a glass of ice-cold vodka in my hand. Must have been mad.

05:50- I’m turning into a prune. Must get out of the shower. In a minute.

06:10- Look dog, I’m freezin’ my arse off here. Will you just pee already?

06:20- (Singing) “On the road again” Of all the inventions modern man has come up with, I’d say heated car seats rank right up at the top. Coffee’s pretty darn good too. That said, I’d still rather be back in bed. At least until the sun comes up.

07:30- Yanno, it’s all very well parking on the other side of the river in order to save having to pay, and in the summer the ten minute walk is really quite delightful. But on a bitter winter’s morning it’s amazing how exposed this stretch across the park really is. It’s not often I actually look forward to arriving in the office.

07:55- You can tell it’s going to be a rough day at the office when you’ve handled five phone calls before making it to the bathroom. More coffee, that’s the answer.

10:15- If there really is a hell, I’ll bet it involves conference calls. 10,000 lost souls sitting in eternal torment while two of them repeat the same information over and over again. Wonder what’s happening to my e-mail in-box right now. Dang, I’ve got so much to do; I don’t have time for this. What? My turn to speak? No, I don’t have an update. No, I don’t know when they’ll have it completed. Yes, I’ll follow up. Hmm, did that sound frustrated? I think I sounded frustrated. Should probably watch that.

11:55- Lady, you’re pushing my buttons today. It really isn’t that complicated – your problem is that you haven’t attended any of the training classes and when I try to explain it to you, you just don’t listen. That and you have the IQ of a throw cushion. How do you manage to dress yourself? OK, let’s go over it one more time.

12:45- I need to eat. I need to eat. I need to eat.

13:55- I need to eat. I need to eat. I need to eat.

14:15- Note to self: When mixing up tuna and salad dressing for sandwiches, it’s a good idea to prevent the mixture from being too moist. Soggy bread with the filling falling out doesn’t an appetizing lunch make.

14:59- Say what?

15:01- OK, this isn’t looking good. Surely not.

15:03- Oh surely…NOT! They could NOT have been so stupid as to roll out the product without making sure this feature auto-updated. Please, please, please, please, please don’t tell me I’m going to have to go in and enter all this manually! I don’t have to do this manually do I? Tell me I don’t have to do this manually. I do have to do this manually. Oh.

15:05- Hi, it’s me. You’d best go ahead and have dinner without me. I’m going to be here late tonight. I don’t know, very late. I’ll call you in a bit. Because it’s my job that’s why.

15:45- I swear, if this laptop freezes up on me one more time, it’s going straight out the window. This is going to take forever.

17:35- I’m telling you – one more freeze up and it’s a fast trip to the ground floor for you my little electronic friend.

17:58- Yep, you deserve a medal for staying an hour late. You must be exhausted poor lamb. But considering you didn’t come in ’till 9:30, I’ll hold off on the rose petals at your feet for the moment, OK? See you tomorrow.

18:25- I wonder how long a human can live on vending machine food. And why is it, the orange juice is always the first one to run out? Ooh look, Twix.

19:20- Crap look at the time, and I’ve barely scratched the surface. There must be a more efficient way to do this. Hmm, how about if I create a spreadsheet and then…

19:55- Well that was a colossal waste of time. OK, back to doing it the original way. Music, that’s what I need. Music feeds the soul. Let’s see what music I can find.

20:20- Have I really just spent the last hour getting no further forward with this? OK, come on now, focus. Grind it out.

22:10- Hi, it’s me. Yep, looks like I’m going to be here all night. I’m not sure, probably 4 or 5-ish. OK, I’ll call you when I pull into the driveway so you can unlock the deadbolt. Sleep well.

12:05- Whoa, where did the time go? Making progress though, if I can keep going at this pace, I should be done by about…Friday. Dang, that’s depressing.

01:25- Consider the Twix my friends. Shortcake, caramel, all coated in a layer of milk chocolate. And just when you get done…there’s another one. Perfection in confectionary. Oh man, I’m tired. Wonder if I could get an hour’s shut-eye if I laid on the floor. No, no – push on, push on. The sooner this is done, the sooner you’ll get home. But oh dearie me, is it ever going to be over?

02:45- Feeling a little fuzzy round the edges now. Must focus on the task at hancze@gh,,,

04:15- OK, that’s it – I’ve had enough. Time to head home. Just send out a few e-mails so everyone can see the time stamp and notice how virtuous I am.

04:30- It’s an odd feeling walking through a totally deserted city. Nobody, but nobody is about. OK, well now that car’s just gone and spoiled it. But apart from that, there’s nobody about.

04:45- Has the steering wheel always been so heavy? Have I always lived so far away? Traffic’s pretty busy going the other way though. Lot of people must start work early. Poor bastards.

05:15- Honey, I’m home!

05:25- Oh it’s so nice to snuggle into warm sheets ready for a good night’s sleep. But first though, I need to set the alarm.

Got to get up for work in the morning.

Heeeeere fishy fishy

I can see myself fly fishing. Standing in a pristine mountain stream with golden late afternoon sunlight streaming behind me as, with the skill and patience of a Zen master, I carve a graceful arc with my line before reeling in a trout of epic proportions. I release the fish, return it to the water and admire the way the light plays off its silvery scales as it swims away. Think Brad Pitt in “A River Runs Through It” and you’ll have the general idea.

Still, I barely have time for the hobbies I have now and fly-fishing isn’t all that cheap a sport in which to get started. Until fairly recently I wasn’t aware that I had any special interest in taking up fishing at all but after giving the sport a go for the first time in years during a camping trip in the summer (where I was the only one in the group to catch a fish – a monster of at least 4 inches) the desire was formed.

I also hadn’t realized how comparatively inexpensive simple spinning rods are. Sure there are the pricey ones for people who take the sport seriously, but ambling round a sports shop one day, I came across some on sale starting at around $20 – $30. That’s well within my price range but first I consulted my friend Ed. Ed’s been kicking around a lot longer than me (well, 7 years longer) and knows about these things.

“So is a $30 fishing rod OK to buy, or is it just a waste of $30?” I asked. Having received confirmation that the rod on which I’d caught my record breaker back in the summer probably only cost about that much, the decision was made. I was to become an angler.

Of course time passed, real life got in the way and if it hadn’t have been for another friend, Melissa, I probably wouldn’t have done anything about it.

“OK, I’m picking you up from work on Friday,” she told me authoritatively last week. “We’ll go to Sportsman’s Warehouse” (a kind of retail toy box for enthusiasts of outdoor pursuits) and pick out a fishing rod for you.” Of course, it wasn’t just going to be just me and her. Christmas is coming and too many other people wanted an excuse to visit the place so the simple act of choosing a rod for me, turned into a team event. Ed was there, of course, along with Robin and The Light of My Life™ so the five of us descended on the place like locusts with charge cards.

Once inside, the wimminfolk spread out and headed for their respective interests. Robin took off for the shoes, The Light of My Life™ for the hats and Melissa for the jeans while Ed and I manned the shopping trolley and gave helpful advice. While waiting Ed, found a camouflage bathrobe, which he thought, would be ideal for hiding among the potted plants, while I came across a pair of shoulder length camouflage gloves. To avoid being spotted during formal evening functions I suppose.

Soon it was time to hit the fishing section and after Melissa rejected my first choice, a 3 ft “My Little Pony” type number in a shade of pink which would match my eyes some mornings, we moved onto my next selection. It was a cool looking silver thing but Ed decided it wasn’t flexible enough. Apparently flexible is a good thing when it comes to fishing rods so he moved along the row and picked out another for me. This one was black and the tip zipped up and down like a whip when I swung it. OK, decision made, but of course – that was just the beginning.

I needed line, hooks, bobbers, sinkers, scissors, a tackle box and of course, the all-important bait. You would think it would simply be a case of walking along the shelves and grabbing the stuff but instead the process involved a level of discussion which would have made a Bedouin camel trader weep. Melissa learned her fishing in West Virginia where the fish are very different animals to our Colorado natives. Ed’s the local expert while I was utterly clueless so we went back and forth over the merits of # 8 hooks versus # 10s, bobbers or not, light line or heavy, the debate went on.

Ed’s an aficionado of the fishing vest, while Melissa’s a tackle box devotee. Being blessed with skinny, weedy looking arms I knew that a bulky vest wouldn’t be much of a fashion statement on me as you probably know, anglers are a stylish bunch so I decided on the tackle box.

“You’ll want one with a shoulder strap,” explained Melissa, “because you’ll have your rod and stuff in one hand, your beer cooler in the other and you won’t want to be messing with a tackle box in your third.” Sound advice that, so we picked out a green one and moved on.

Selecting my first supply of bait was another big decision. Back in the days when I last fished, you either purchased a small bag of some unidentified marine life from a crusty old guy in a kiosk at the head of the pier, or you went into the back yard and dug up worms. I haven’t seen a worm in Colorado and I doubt they would keep ’till the warm weather so instead we checked out the endless supply of commercial offerings. It would never have occurred to me that fish would go after some of these fluorescent concoctions but it seems those are the “in” colours. Bright red salmon eggs, neon orange Power Bait, “Drag Queen Bait” and even “Glitter Balls”, which caused juvenile fits of giggles all round – it was all here. Even little jars of multi-coloured paste which you use, presumably, to roll your own. It’s all very hi-tech these days.

Finally we were done and I headed for the checkout to hand over a sum of cash considerably higher than the $20-$30 I had originally anticipated. I’ll need Melissa and Ed to show me how to work most of this stuff, but I did spend a happy hour on Saturday unwrapping it all and placing it neatly in my new tackle box. I also picked up my first fishing injury, drawing blood when the snap of the box ripped open my index finger. How manly is that?

Still, I’m all set to go now. The gear is primed, I’m ready for the hunt and fish had best beware. Everything is in place.

So how long is it ’till the ice melts?