| When a Wolf Whispers I have just heard the news today and it is almost as if I have been told of a death in the family. Yukon, Ista Nagila, oh my sadness can hardly be contained. When a wolf parts from this realm of the living I know they hear the ancient chanting of its ancestors greeting the grand teacher back. These dusty voices carry the wisdom of the wind and the clarity of streams. They know the knowledge found in simplicity. These sentient creatures that conspire with the very forces of nature that shape all life, these young masters of knowledge wonder slowly heaven ward, tails drooping. They carry a burden, a burden of untaught knowledge. You see when the world was young and mankind infantile to the ways of the creator each wolf was tasked to share this body of knowledge with their human brothers and sisters. But these times have passed and mankind has become arrogant and fool hardy. Therefore, this burden of unshared knowledge remains with the wolf now, until it returns back, skyward, to the great creator. It is for this reason that the tail of the wolf appears to droop as it departs this world. However, every now and again there is a wolf that strolls off into the setting sun with its tail held aloft, and for poetic justice, a smile. This was how it was for a wolf named Onyx on the 8th of December this year. You see she left in the knowledge that she had reached one of the human species, through you. But more than this, she gave me Yukon and then Ista Nagila, wolves by proxy. In fact she gave the world some new found knowledge in every person who has ever visited Wolf Creek Habitat, or surfed your web site. As I hear the voice of Oliver Shanti in my head echoing ‘Born to be free, in universal understanding’ and smell the sage brush. In the darkness of my eyelids I can see the wolf passing through the trees and hear the faint clip of a toe nail catching on a stone, wild and free. You might say that now Onyx is free, she can now reach beyond the dominion of space and time. What she has given this world is a legacy in her pups. I can recall sitting in my study in Africa and writing while looking at a picture you sent me of Yukon. That sort of wisdom did not come from me, it was inspired by Yukon. My deep passion for wolves has led me on a journey beyond your wildest dreams. Therefore any wolf that dies with the knowledge of knowing that it has touched a human’s life will in fact not die at all. This is a creature which has served its purpose, and beyond what anyone could have ever expected. After all in some way she has touch humans across the globe. By Lee Ridley |
| In loving Memory of Onyx |
Read more wonderful words from Lee
| Watching ‘Wolves’ last night, again, I suddenly remembered a feeling I experienced many years ago. It was at the time I was forced to go to the army and fight for something I did not believe in, apartheid. What made me think of this was the emotion that I attach to you and the wolves. That sense of being lost and missing home and the things you find dear. When I watch ‘Wolves’ or think of you and your wolves it is the same sense of loss, but only for a place that I have never been. There is a scene with a grisly bear and the wolf is harassing the bear. The narrator says something about the bear and when his buddy is back and the camera pans away to the pups howling at the edge of a brook. Well, what can I say. My face becomes conflicted and my mind races to a place with sage brush and Douglas trees, where long grass grows tall and greasy. A flute sounds in the distance almost drowned by the babbling of busy water lapping over ancient pebbles. This place has sky taller than the heavens and I am sure that should you lie on your back the kaleidoscope of clouds would resemble the big screen. |
| Friday afternoon and it is more or less time to go home when I see Amos, the mail guy, in our office. This is nothing too out of the ordinary, at least not until he drops a slip of paper onto my desk. I look down and see that it is a collection slip from the post office and in the top left hand corner are the words ‘Sender: Wolf Creek Habitat’. The rest is hard to describe because the race of adrenalin has annihilated all reasoning from my brain. The next thing I remember was racing up the stairs to my boss’s office panting and gasping like some demented maniac who had just received a parcel from a great friend on the other side of the world, yes that sounds about right. When I arrived at my bosses office she is not in, but two of her colleagues are and make the fatal mistake of asking me why I was out of breath and searching frantically for Nicolé. Well I babble off about wolves in a box at the post office and who knows what else and the pair of them look at me as if I have finally lost what was left of my sanity. Perplexed by their confusion I depart the office and race back down stairs where I inform my other boss and colleges that I am leaving now, I decided not to try and motivate the reasons as this just seemed to cause confusion. These non wolf people are rather slow at understanding. Within minutes I am in my car and rocketing towards the post office where I stand in the queue dancing from one foot to the other, at the same time compiling a sms to Karin to get home post haste. Finally it is my turn and I put the slip on the counter, grinning in excitement. ‘I am here to collect a parcel please’ I chime at the postal worker. He moves as if surrounded by molasses and it takes all of my patience not to jump over the counter and execute the task myself. But finally he returns with this huge box and a rather disgruntled look on his face. I think at this stage my face has probably been consumed by a grin so that only teeth and pupils are still visible to the world. Back in the car and even though it is Friday afternoon traffic I cannot help tapping the steering wheel and grinning. May I say at this point that I think the muscles in my face where beginning to become a little annoyed at this strenuous work out, but they had no option. Eventually I see the Jacaranda tree that marks our drive way and I turn in. As always the three dogs are there to greet me with unbounded excitement. But Karin is not yet home, bugger! I park the car and grab the box off the back seat and go into the house. I place the box in front of the television and stand there confused. How do I pass the time until Karin gets home? I go back outside and busy myself with the normal tasks of cleaning up after the dogs, cleaning the pool and other mindless jobs around the garden. It seems like an eternity before Karin and Sieglinde arrive home, but in reality it was probably not much more than about 20 minutes. I bundle the family into the lounge which proudly holds the box in front of the television. We begin to unpack. First the envelope marked ‘Read first’. Kathy, thank you for the two million dollars and all the other little bits, the magnet of Ista Nagila is still to find a very special place. After this we took out the T-shirts and sweaters, which we all wore with pride on Sunday when we visited my folks. And then came the blankets. Well Kathy I cannot even begin to thank you for these or express the gratitude of Karin and Sieglinde. Of cause the white one with the two wolves is highly disputed, but I am sure it is mine. But it was the tobacco and the sage that had me sitting on the floor with my nose in the bags absorbing the smells you probably experience every day. All this time I can imagine what a wolf feels like and the pictures make it easy to visualize. But the one thing that has always been missing is the smell. The smell of their surroundings. Those are gifts most treasured. The wolf medicine was the next treasure along with all of the other stuff. Thank you so much. But the final blanket was the one that took my attention. The statue. Kathy, I know we watched some television on Friday night. And I know we began watching ‘Trail of tears’, but I could not tear my eyes from that face. He stands on our TV cabinet for the time being, but I will find a most sacred place for him still. Kathy you are most definitely a special person. From Karin Sieglinde and myself we are infinitely grateful for all of these treasures. It will be some time before I have truly examined them all and I know that Karin and Sieglinde feel the same. Take care of yourself, I must run, but we will chat soon. Merry Christmas, if only you knew the joy you brought to my family on Friday night, Santa. Words seem so useless at this time as a million emotions race over my soul. Wild horses on the tundra, their hooves beat like thunder on my spirit. The dream has been dreamt. The line in the sand drawn. A childhood dream has followed me into my adult life and now I must find a way to bring it to life. I can smell the sage and hear the wolves. I can feel the warmth of the blankets and listen to the music, liquid water surrounds me in this wild place. While the wolves are in my head and your cause in my soul, this is not enough. Someday, the sky will carry me to the place I have never been but know I belong. With the wolves and the people of simplicity and joy. Some day, some day soon. |
| These are what he wrote after receiving the his Christmas order from our gift shop |
