| ~Ode to Yukon~ Let me explain, sitting in my study in Africa, I will never see a wolf run free, or hear its haunting song across the ice. I will never know the fear of the predator or hear it panting rhythm through its loose limbed gait. But I feel that somewhere in my soul there is a wolf’s spirit. So I sit in front of my computer screen choking on silent tears and yearn for this freedom. Ancestral Indian music plays to a screen saver, you need not guess, a collage of wolves. This little piece of tranquillity I owe to friends around the world who have sent me images, you know who you are, but you will never, ever, understand that each and every one of them has a tale. Like one new little chap called Yukon. Recently introduced into his pack, the Snow Pack Join the celestial wolf and cast your mind back to a time when the wolf tribes crossed the Alaskan shelf during the ice age. Nomadic by nature, they had little option, but to utilize every ounce of knowledge they could muster to survive. In those hard times they learnt that there was one teacher they could depend on…the wolf. These same forefathers that brought this little black flash to us today, we named him Yukon. Introduced to his family, an alien among friends, I know this fear well. A fear that slowly grips your belly and deprives your legs of structure, you can no longer stand, catatonic you wait. Well, as Yukon sank to the ground that day, his cowered head slightly turned to a slight angle, ears flattened, and back legs slowly settling earthwards. Prying muzzle of dad probed for signs of heritage, Yukon’s fear. This is a wolf, capable of predating one the largest land mammals in the north, Bison. And wolves are different, they understand the unity of family, and like so many before he christens his son into the pack. You see wolves have one thing man has lost in his over complicated and conceited presence of being; wolves know that unity is everything. And so now Yukon has a family once more, a wolf complete. They say that a wolf will never find his pack unless he howls, well from Africa this is my howl, and it is simple. Let Yukon and his family of wolves continue to grace our lives with the poetry of motion and their songs of icy nights. Let their concept of family be a reminder to us what life is really about in its simplest, and truest form. I watch my blending screen as one member of the snow pack blends into another, the ancient but so familiar tribal beat lends and ambiance to a time when man made dancing shadows around an open flame. I am told that each time the moccasin touched the earth in this sacred dance, it sent a message to the Great Spirit. This message was simple, “here I stand one man on mother earth, this is my thanks to Mother Earth, I stand in reverence of this great creation”. I watch, the distant viewer, as the tale unfolds this tight knit unity of a pack with one leader, one alpha. And as I watch I see what some may view as cruelty, but this is the disciplined direction which will keep this pack alive. But there are also times of play, the image of Yukon approaching dad, and alpha, with head low and ears back. His tail is cast down in submission and his developing jaws slightly open almost as if smiling. His father, however, has somewhat spoilt the surprise of the hunt, he has seen his young sons ambitious hunt and turns lethargically to defend. Father’s tail at half mast shows that he will play, but disrespect will not be tolerated. This is a reminder of our own failing families who spend less and less time with our children, simply imaging while still being the parents. And still we journey further into this world of the teacher and places from when we came. Time long past the place is warm, moist and comfortable; this is our earth from which we grew. The beat is simple and comforting, all that we heard in those early days. We can hear our mother’s heartbeat, rhythmic and comforting this music takes me into another image. Loki, an adult male, and Yukon, one stares intelligently into the distance while the other stares questioningly, trying desperately to see what Loki know Yukon is ready to learn these great wonders of this place. Loki’s focused ears and eyes dwarf our human senses. The wolf has bewildered man since time immemorial with its ability to interpret its surrounding accurately, a science still today scientist can not explain this ability. All this young Yukon must still master, so for the time being and no present danger the two throw back their heads in unison and do what all good families do, howl in unison long and spiritually. One last image here that needs mention is one of Polaris and young Yukon. Polaris who has now joined the Great Spirit must have been a mentor to Yukon as I see Yukon’ s innocent content, shielded by Polaris’s ever attentive watch. A fine wolf she was, but never far will be. It has been asked “What god graced the elk with such grace and swiftness, was it some ancient spirit? But the answer is simple. The elk’s grace was whittled by the tooth of the wolf”. We loose ourselves in our intellect and forget that life was not meant to be complicated, but rather balanced. And while the sorrow of loss is often devastating, we should, like the wolf accept its fate and continue with what is important, life. Life and family is the nature of the wolf. Yukon will continue to live with his pack. Yukon’s bounding, learning, and most importantly teaching us about the balance through his unwitting humility. His black body and gentle demeanour a reminder to us that in all that has been, and still to come, Yukon will always be the wolf, while we, the nomadic people of this planet, must roam leaving only footprints. Searching and yearning for that which has already found us, if only we don the cloak of humility and silent watchers become will we find that which the wolf has forever known. It is dark now, here in Africa and as the night comes I place my head to rest. Dreaming of wolves and places still wild, many of you have the luxury of decision. That decision is the choice of leaving your kin with more than just memories of the land of the free, the choice is to howl, howl as loud as you can until you find your pack. Let another Yukon enter this world and allow people like me, in places like this have a glimpse of freedom and wonder. Dedicated to Kathy of Wolf Creek In memory of Polaris In hope of Yukon And inspired by my dog Gizmo |
| Loki and Yukon Singing a Beautiful Song |
| Loki and Yukon keeping watch |
| Yukon meeting dad for the first time |
