Apologia of the Lupophile

On the nightstand: Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat.  I have found it to be an interesting and charming book*, and one that made me consider that I had some clarifications to make regarding my own take on Canis lupus.

Simply put, I may have given the impression (in posts such as this and this) that I did not care for, or was disturbed by wolves.  This is not the case.

Do I respect them? Yes, very much so.  Anyone with an ounce of sense in their head would do the same.  Wolves may not be the savage, slavering killers so often portrayed in the past, but they are predators.  Intelligent, hungry predators fulfilling their destiny in the food chain.  I have often used wolves as metaphors for the troubles and anxieties of my own disjointed modern life.

I have never really taken it to heart, that wolves are mindless, demonic beasts that kill humans or other creatures for the sheer sake of killing.  I think what I did was unconsciously act on some of the prevailing myths in history and project them in part into my writing.  I find it significant that I chose wolves and not tigers or sharks.  Perhaps I was leaning heavily on North American folklore and legend because that is what I am most familiar with.

Wolves have chased me.  Wolves have followed me around, howled outside the windows and scratched at the door.  Wolves have breathed down my neck.  Because of that I may have inadvertently perpetuated some of the negative stereotypes that Farley Mowat and many others have worked hard to discredit.  For that I am regretful.  The wolf may be a dangerous predator, but it is at the same time a beautiful animal.

Never Cry Wolf has not made me feel as if I could plunge headlong into the Arctic wilderness and become best buddies with the beasts.  It did make me step back from my own perceptions, and rethink my use of wolves as metaphors.  I cannot say that I will never use them again in such a manner; the metaphor is wonderfully apt.  I will, however, be more careful and respectful in my characterizations.

Besides, the notion of totemic animals (wolf, jaguar, tiger, coyote, raven to name a few) is common across many cultures.  They represent artistic or spiritual human responses to the mystery and complexity of the life around us, ones that we (or at least, I) cannot ignore.  The real art here will be to learn how to run with the wolves, rather than being run down by the wolves.  There are worse things one can do in life than run with your mates, under the sun, and then howl at the moon.

*There is a lot of debate as to whether the book is mostly fiction.  There have been moments when reading it that I have raised an eyebrow and said "Really? Are you sure?" because some of it does seem fanciful rather than rigorously scientific.  Having said that, Mr. Mowat writes with such verve and affection that I couldn't help but be drawn in, and part of me hopes that things really did happen the way he describes.  It makes me want to be a wolf, especially the descriptions of the wolves at play.