TWO-FACED WOLF
TWO-FACED WOLF
Decades ago, when I was young and foolish, I went wolf hunting. A wolf tag cost me around twelve dollars. It seemed like a small price—a deer tag cost over twenty.
Decades ago, when I was young and foolish, I went wolf hunting. A wolf tag cost me around twelve dollars. It seemed like a small price—a deer tag cost over twenty.
On the way into the mountains, my Idaho huntin' buddies told me how big, strong, and crazy smart wolves are. They told tales of mythical and magical demons capable of miraculous feats. We didn't have hunting blinds or bait, so the wolves were at an advantage. It would take all the skills of a hunter to get a wolf.
On the way into the mountains, my Idaho huntin' buddies told me how big, strong, and crazy smart wolves are. They told tales of mythical and magical demons capable of miraculous feats. We didn't have hunting blinds or bait, so the wolves were at an advantage. It would take all the skills of a hunter to get a wolf.
Short of pounding their chests, each of my Idaho buddies reassured me with the gusto of a posturing mountain gorilla that they would overcome the wolf. Each of them was an experienced wolf hunter and demon killer. My friends talked tough, but I sensed fear in their wolf stories.
Short of pounding their chests, each of my Idaho buddies reassured me with the gusto of a posturing mountain gorilla that they would overcome the wolf. Each of them was an experienced wolf hunter and demon killer. My friends talked tough, but I sensed fear in their wolf stories.
When we got to the mountains and on the game trails, the wolf sign was everywhere—fresh wolf prints pressed into the soft soil, and new hair-filled scat lay in the grass beneath the sagebrush. I put my hand down next to one of the huge prints and was in awe and afraid.
When we got to the mountains and on the game trails, the wolf sign was everywhere—fresh wolf prints pressed into the soft soil, and new hair-filled scat lay in the grass beneath the sagebrush. I put my hand down next to one of the huge prints and was in awe and afraid.
My friends and I hiked the ridges hunting for the wolves. We followed the freshest tracks I'd ever seen, but the wolves were always hidden behind the trees or over the hill. The wolves seemed to know how to stay safe.
My friends and I hiked the ridges hunting for the wolves. We followed the freshest tracks I'd ever seen, but the wolves were always hidden behind the trees or over the hill. The wolves seemed to know how to stay safe.
After a long day of hunting the steep mountains, we started back to camp. There were more fresh wolf tracks on the ground. The wolves had been following us, watching us, circling us as we marched in a straight line on the trail. To my Idaho friends, it was proof of the wolf's mystique. At night we heard wolf howls.
After a long day of hunting the steep mountains, we started back to camp. There were more fresh wolf tracks on the ground. The wolves had been following us, watching us, circling us as we marched in a straight line on the trail. To my Idaho friends, it was proof of the wolf's mystique. At night we heard wolf howls.
In the morning, before my hunting companions rose, I set out with my rifle to challenge the wolf—to see it for myself. After hiking the trail for a while, I left the path and walked carefully to the edge of a rock outcropping. I sat on a boulder and looked over its edge. The sun was still behind the mountains. A small tree-lined valley stretched out before me in the early morning light. Near the center of the valley was a small, sloped mountain meadow. I scanned the meadow and saw the shape of a gray and white wolf sitting on its haunches.
In the morning, before my hunting companions rose, I set out with my rifle to challenge the wolf—to see it for myself. After hiking the trail for a while, I left the path and walked carefully to the edge of a rock outcropping. I sat on a boulder and looked over its edge. The sun was still behind the mountains. A small tree-lined valley stretched out before me in the early morning light. Near the center of the valley was a small, sloped mountain meadow. I scanned the meadow and saw the shape of a gray and white wolf sitting on its haunches.
I shouldered my rifle and peered through the scope. It was a wolf, a real wolf. I'd only seen wolves in zoos and on television. My heart raced with fear and excitement. Their tracks, scat, and scent were as close as I'd ever gotten. Sitting like a dog, this wolf was too far away to shoot, but not too far away to examine closely. I thought about moving closer, but the sitting wolf interested me. I slowly took out my binoculars and watched it.
I shouldered my rifle and peered through the scope. It was a wolf, a real wolf. I'd only seen wolves in zoos and on television. My heart raced with fear and excitement. Their tracks, scat, and scent were as close as I'd ever gotten. Sitting like a dog, this wolf was too far away to shoot, but not too far away to examine closely. I thought about moving closer, but the sitting wolf interested me. I slowly took out my binoculars and watched it.
The wolf I saw was tall and skinny with large paws. It was far away but looked sickly. The wolf's coat was ragged and mangy. One-half of the wolf's face looked particularly vile. Its left ear was deformed, and the eye beneath it was bloody, swollen, and gunky. A dark liquid drained from the eye. The other side of the wolf's face was soft and playful, its eye and ear intact. This strange wolf sat stone still, staring at the tailings of a rock chuck hole in front of it.
The wolf I saw was tall and skinny with large paws. It was far away but looked sickly. The wolf's coat was ragged and mangy. One-half of the wolf's face looked particularly vile. Its left ear was deformed, and the eye beneath it was bloody, swollen, and gunky. A dark liquid drained from the eye. The other side of the wolf's face was soft and playful, its eye and ear intact. This strange wolf sat stone still, staring at the tailings of a rock chuck hole in front of it.
Suddenly, the wolf sprung forward and pounced on the hole. Its front half disappeared beneath the earth. I watched the wolf dig furiously. Dirt flew from its back end. It reminded me of the cow dog we had growing up. It enjoyed digging up gophers out in the horse pasture.
Suddenly, the wolf sprung forward and pounced on the hole. Its front half disappeared beneath the earth. I watched the wolf dig furiously. Dirt flew from its back end. It reminded me of the cow dog we had growing up. It enjoyed digging up gophers out in the horse pasture.
The skinny wolf pulled its head from the rock chuck hole. Damp dirt covered its long muzzle and stuck to its vile-looking eye. The wolf huffed and sneezed, then shook the earth from its head and face. It dove back into the hole and excitedly went back to digging. A few seconds later, it stopped. The wolf started writhing about its shoulder, head, and front paws deep within the rock chuck hole.
The skinny wolf pulled its head from the rock chuck hole. Damp dirt covered its long muzzle and stuck to its vile-looking eye. The wolf huffed and sneezed, then shook the earth from its head and face. It dove back into the hole and excitedly went back to digging. A few seconds later, it stopped. The wolf started writhing about its shoulder, head, and front paws deep within the rock chuck hole.
With a violent jerk, the wolf popped back out of the hole. Its jaws slung a large rock chuck onto the meadow. The rock chuck hit the ground and took off, but the wolf pounced on it, pinning the fat rodent to the ground with its paws. Through my binoculars, I watched the wolf playfully devour its prey. It seemed to enjoy shredding and crushing the rock chuck in its jaws. It ate everything but the head and spine. When it was done, the skinny wolf's long muzzle and narrow chest were covered in blood.
With a violent jerk, the wolf popped back out of the hole. Its jaws slung a large rock chuck onto the meadow. The rock chuck hit the ground and took off, but the wolf pounced on it, pinning the fat rodent to the ground with its paws. Through my binoculars, I watched the wolf playfully devour its prey. It seemed to enjoy shredding and crushing the rock chuck in its jaws. It ate everything but the head and spine. When it was done, the skinny wolf's long muzzle and narrow chest were covered in blood.
The wolf looked my way as it licked its bloody lips. It was far off but seemed pleased, happy, and proud. It had the same look on it that I'd seen my Idaho huntin' buddies get after they killed something. I lowered my binoculars, and the ragged wolf dashed into the tree line. After seeing a real wolf, a mangy wolf, eat a rock chuck, the mystique and fear disappeared. I didn't see the strong, powerful, majestic wolf or the vicious, growling demon. The wolf I saw was pitiful and lowly. But at the same time, it was playful, a survivor and a killer.
The wolf looked my way as it licked its bloody lips. It was far off but seemed pleased, happy, and proud. It had the same look on it that I'd seen my Idaho huntin' buddies get after they killed something. I lowered my binoculars, and the ragged wolf dashed into the tree line. After seeing a real wolf, a mangy wolf, eat a rock chuck, the mystique and fear disappeared. I didn't see the strong, powerful, majestic wolf or the vicious, growling demon. The wolf I saw was pitiful and lowly. But at the same time, it was playful, a survivor and a killer.
A FEW YEARS BACK, I was hunting online for Idaho stories when I came across an article on wolf management. After reading the article, I glanced over the public comment section at the end. I assumed bots wrote most of what I read, but several phrases caught my attention, "Shoot, Shovel, Shut Up, Smoke A Pack A Day, and Real Hunters Don't Shoot Wolves." I've seen and heard these slogans many times in the Gem State. I started reading the back and forth and was shocked, angered, and captivated.
A FEW YEARS BACK, I was hunting online for Idaho stories when I came across an article on wolf management. After reading the article, I glanced over the public comment section at the end. I assumed bots wrote most of what I read, but several phrases caught my attention, "Shoot, Shovel, Shut Up, Smoke A Pack A Day, and Real Hunters Don't Shoot Wolves." I've seen and heard these slogans many times in the Gem State. I started reading the back and forth and was shocked, angered, and captivated.
Ever intrigued, I read more wolf articles and their comment sections. I immersed myself in Idaho's dark and wild world of wolf comments. The same patterns repeated themselves time and again. There were only two stories—the story of the wolf's rebirth and the story of overcoming the monster wolf.
Ever intrigued, I read more wolf articles and their comment sections. I immersed myself in Idaho's dark and wild world of wolf comments. The same patterns repeated themselves time and again. There were only two stories—the story of the wolf's rebirth and the story of overcoming the monster wolf.
One story told of a wolf with a tragic past, a perceived villain who must be reborn as a hero. The other story told of a monster, a beast from the pit, which must be conquered. Both were filled with drama, tragedy, comedy, absurdity, intriguing characters, and intense conflict.
One story told of a wolf with a tragic past, a perceived villain who must be reborn as a hero. The other story told of a monster, a beast from the pit, which must be conquered. Both were filled with drama, tragedy, comedy, absurdity, intriguing characters, and intense conflict.
As I went deeper and deeper into Idaho's wolf comments, feuds and rivalries played out on the web pages before my eyes. It was a terrifying front of the wolf war. People behaved savagely.
As I went deeper and deeper into Idaho's wolf comments, feuds and rivalries played out on the web pages before my eyes. It was a terrifying front of the wolf war. People behaved savagely.
An old expression, "fought like wolves," is often used to describe powerful and intense arguments or physical battles, as in The politicians fought like wolves during the debate. World War I soldiers fought like wolves in the trenches. The boxers fought like wolves until the final round's bell. I found that Idahoans fought worse than wolves online, especially when they fought over wolves.
An old expression, "fought like wolves," is often used to describe powerful and intense arguments or physical battles, as in The politicians fought like wolves during the debate. World War I soldiers fought like wolves in the trenches. The boxers fought like wolves until the final round's bell. I found that Idahoans fought worse than wolves online, especially when they fought over wolves.
I followed the most extreme wolf comments and tried to find the people behind them. They were easy to track down. Most were overtly proud of their wolf love or hate and had their social media profiles set to public. When I found the people behind the wolf comments, they reminded me of the mangy wolf I watched devour a rock chuck all those years ago. Like the wolf's vile rotted eye, some part of them was diseased and damaged. Other parts of them were soft and benign. It didn't matter if they were a wolf-lover or wolf-hater.
I followed the most extreme wolf comments and tried to find the people behind them. They were easy to track down. Most were overtly proud of their wolf love or hate and had their social media profiles set to public. When I found the people behind the wolf comments, they reminded me of the mangy wolf I watched devour a rock chuck all those years ago. Like the wolf's vile rotted eye, some part of them was diseased and damaged. Other parts of them were soft and benign. It didn't matter if they were a wolf-lover or wolf-hater.
The fight over wolves is often presented as a dichotomy between two wolves: good and evil. For me, there aren't two wolves—just one. The wolf has two faces it wears at the same time. A wolf is an animal capable of both tenderness and violence, but people at the extreme ends of the conflict only recognize the hero or the villain they want to see. They pick one side of the two-faced wolf and disregard the other.
The fight over wolves is often presented as a dichotomy between two wolves: good and evil. For me, there aren't two wolves—just one. The wolf has two faces it wears at the same time. A wolf is an animal capable of both tenderness and violence, but people at the extreme ends of the conflict only recognize the hero or the villain they want to see. They pick one side of the two-faced wolf and disregard the other.