This column is dedicated to the memory of my mother. She was born in Siberia and had many exciting stories to tell. One was the experience of wolves following her father’s sleigh. I believed it as a child, but as I got older, I became skeptical. I’m sorry I was. I now have my own list of wolf stories and would love to hear more of hers.
Several years ago, on a cool autumn night, Dick and I hopped in the four-wheeler, drove up a near-by logging road, pulled into a small clearing, and turned off the engine and the lights.
The night was clear; stars filled the sky, an occasional small animal rustled in the underbrush. We like to do this every now and then, weather permitting. It felt mysterious and exciting. Maybe a wild critter would stumble past us. In reality, a falling star might be the only excitement. But even that was good. We sat and enjoyed the night.
Without warning, the plaintive notes of a wolf howl filled the air.
“He’s right behind us,” I whispered. Dick nodded and pointed to the general vicinity.
Another howl resounded. The wolf wasn’t far away. I was trying to believe this was truly happening, when, to the north came the sound of a wolf pack’s answering howl. The pack howled again, and all was silent. We heard no more of either the pack or of the lone wolf, although we sat for quite a while.
If the wolves had a reunion, it was a silent one.
Another one of my favorite wolf stories also involved howls. This time, a pack chose my driveway in which to perform its concert. Dick and I woke up one night to the sound of howling wolves. You couldn’t miss the noise. We flew to the window, but the night was pitch black and revealed nothing.
Though we couldn’t see them, the wolves continued howling. Dick noted the sound was coming from the curve of our driveway. I cocked an ear. It was full blast, “Almost sounds like they’re harmonizing.”
I wouldn’t describe their singing as barbershop, but close. I couldn’t tell how many, but at least three different sounds merged into a melody.
“I’ll bet our neighbor is really hearing it.” I indicated our neighbor’s cabin, which wasn’t more than 50 feet from the wolves.
The next morning, Dick asked our neighbor how he liked the wolf concert so close to his bedroom. Unfortunately, he hadn’t heard a peep. He’s a light sleeper who needs white noise at night, so he had turned on a noise machine and slept like a baby.
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