Wolf and I

The challenge was that I did not know what the wolf intentioned. Perhaps he was just following me for fun; the calling of a hunt spurring him into careless behaviour, knowing his quarry was capable of doing great harm.

The situation occurred many years ago, while hunting bear in northern Quebec. A friend and I were following tracks for about half an hour. Steve found new ones and veered off to my right.

A short while later, I felt the back hairs of my neck raise when I sensed something watching me. We were way off the beaten path on a lumber road, and who knows what wild creature inhabited these woods. I was alone, and turned very slowly, then looked at the face of a huge furry, black-grey, wolf.

Its size conveyed its maleness, definitely a leader of the pack. It had a massive head and snowshoe-looking feet---an awesome spectacle. It was easily around 175 pounds and stood staring at me, from fifteen feet away, with an amused gaze on his furry face. I was not afraid, but respectful and did not show any aggression with my .303 rifle still held across my chest. It was loaded but not cocked.

At the time, I was a crack shot and able to lever a cartridge faster and fire than he could move to attack. But I felt no aggression from this beautiful specimen. He kept analyzing me with those large eyes, curious at being this close to man, understanding I had something fearful in my hands. But he too was unafraid. We acknowledged each other by appreciating the fact old foes need not be enemies today.

Then he slowly turned and daintily pranced away in a perpendicular route with tail stretched proudly. His chocolate snowshoe-feet momentarily suspended with each lifting movement emulated the same prance as a moose. Then he was gone. It was an extraordinary experience, and retelling the tale later to my friend brought envious groans.