WOLF BAIT

The highway stretched ahead endlessly, winding through the rugged, rocky, pine-treed Idaho landscape. As I passed through a small mountain town, two tall billboards on either side of the road presented vastly different wolves and messages about wolves. Each sign was steeped in the arts of propaganda, and each competed for my eyes' attention. Both signs smelt like wolf bait. 

On one side, an anti-wolf billboard depicted a monster wolf bearing long, pointed fangs. It had fierce yellow eyes. The beast looked like a killer, like something out of a nightmare. It was terrifying. Next to the killer wolf, rhetorical slogans were scrawled across the billboard in bold lettering. A question was posed in authoritative white, DEADLY? then answered in blood red, YES. For a moment, I feared and hated the monster wolf. 

On the other side of the state highway, a pro-wolf billboard featured a beautiful, benign wolf—the wolf of rebirth. You could not see the wolf's pointed fangs, long muzzle, or triangular, well-furred, and cupped ears, only its piercing, intelligent eyes. The wolf's gaze was friendly and comforting, like the look in your dog's eyes when you get home. The harmless creature's sleek, shiny fur was next to a passionate phrase in impactful, slender lettering. REAL HUNTERS DON'T KILL WOLVES. In that instance, I saw a misunderstood wolf with the potential to become good. I felt sorry for the wolf and sorry for hating it.

As I drove between the two billboards, my eyes darting between them, I couldn't help but contemplate their stark contrast. Depending on which side of the highway you looked at, wolves were either evil, vile, destructive creatures or friendly, furry, helpless victims. The messages were as simplistic as they were psychotic. I realized I was witnessing a vicious battle for hearts and minds. Demonization and idealization were in full bloom right before my eyes. 

In one instant on the Idaho highway, I could see the extreme ends of wolf hate and love. Both sides' billboards had turned the wolf's complex nature to their purposes. If perception shapes reality, each side shaped perception well, and I couldn't help but wonder which side was right. Were the wolves a deadly, uncontrolled menace, or were they innocent victims of human greed and ignorance? I felt like I had to choose one of the wolves. Wolves were good or evil, and I had to pick a side. 

As I drove deeper into the mountains, the two billboards grew smaller in the rearview mirror, then disappeared when the road twisted into a pass. The sky was clear and blue. I could breathe and think for myself. I found myself struck, perplexed by how easily my emotions were swayed by simple images and words. 

Both sides of the wolf war wanted me to see and believe in their wolf. They fought over my thoughts with powerful wolf bait my primordial senses could not resist. A few more miles down the highway, a feeling of disgust came over me. I was manipulated, my trust was lost, and I felt alienated. In my heart, I knew wolves were nothing like the fantasies the billboards portrayed. I started to feel an overwhelming urge to resist and push back against Idaho's wolf madness.