On Wolves

Dear Readers, my apologies for getting so far behind and being so inconsistent. The inspirations that so often are available when I go to write left me for far too long. The good news is, I have one non-fiction book idea, a fractured fairy tale that I would love to have illustrated one day, a screenplay idea for a feature film, and an idea for a speculative fiction trilogy. All that came flying into my head within a week, so I think it is safe to say that my bad case of writer's block is over. Thank you for your patience ~ Jenny.

It's 8:03AM. The indoor-outdoor thermometer is displaying -33(C) in large, black numbers. After yesterday's grey skies filled with fluffy snowflakes, the morning sky looks clear. But, there have certainly been times when the grey cloud covering was so uniform that it only appeared clear. When the sun finally rises out of the early gloaming then, and only then, will I truly know what the day shall bring. As I watch the sky grow pale with light, I find myself thinking over my favorite sound to hear on a clear day. Part of it has to do with the radio newscast that just crackled through the speakers, but most of it has to do with some of my favorite memories despite that it is a rather contentious issue within our northern municipalities and counties.

Before continuing, perhaps I should explain why a clear day is so different from any other day. Where I live, you can hear for miles through the trees when the temperature is cold and the sky is clear. Many is the time when I have been on Rosehill and gone completely still because I heard the crunching of snow. Though it sounds as though a vehicle is driving up, the reality is that I am hearing the crunch of wind hardened snow squeaking and crunching under tires miles away (especially if the wind is just right). While the crystal clear sound quality may not seem like much, it seems magical if it falls at the very time of year the wolves come through.

About a month ago, we were privileged enough to listen to a wolf pack's chorus on one of these exceptionally clear nights, the kind of night when you could tap a bell and hear it resonate for hours, and hear the rising symphony of their voices harmonize while one wolf accentuated the rhythmic energy with a howl that reminded me of a cross between scat and jazz. So eerie. So chilling. So thrilling. Daddy decided to see if they had made a kill and, sure enough, he found what was left of their moose while the ravens cawed at him from overhead.

For me, this is one of the most stunning and magical sounds the wild has to offer.

Sadly, not everyone agrees.

Snapping out of my reverie of memory, I am reminded of the radio newscast. In one year, there have been over 700 bounties paid out for each wolf killed in those counties and municipalities that offer wolf bounties in Alberta. In my own county, the bounty is around 200 dollars (if I remember correctly). While I understand why farmers and ranchers find wolves a source of annoyance, after all, nobody wants to have perfectly good calves killed by wild animals when they could sell that same calf once it comes of age and turn a profit. I get it. It's bad business. On the other hand, my own perspective is the same as my hunting perspective. To kill a wolf that is harming livestock, as it harms the livestock, is one thing. To set a bounty on an entire population is another. I have no qualms with people hunting, but I believe in hunting to eat and hunting in moderation. It seems to me that a bounty on wolves will only cause an imbalance in the natural equilibrium, the carrying capacity of animals that are hunted by the wolf, and eventually lead to sickness and other issues within other populations.

As a testimony to the power of a bounty, let me explain it like this. Since we moved to Rosehill, we have listened to wolves nearly every year. It has only been in the years the bounty was officially issued that we heard no wolves and saw little to no sign that they were even in our area. Two summers ago, the coyote moved in. As you may know, this is a sign that the wolf population is not at it's usual strength.

The power of the bounty is just this: the clear air that filled with the resonating sounds of a wolf hunt were the first I have heard in several years.

And those years were just a little too empty for my liking.

I hope to see the bounties stopped, so I may continue to count on hearing the wolves sing.

Love,
Jenny