Читать книгу Running with Wolves - National Kids Geographic - Страница 12

I stood silent and motionless, my eyes trained on the mysterious black hole in front of me. The opening was just two feet (0.6 m) wide, half hidden beneath a fallen spruce tree. Its oval shape reminded me of a dark, mystical eye, like that of a dragon. Such a thought of fantasy contrasted sharply with the reality of what I was about to do. It was something that no one had likely ever done.

I sniffled against the chilly April air. Spring had sprung a month earlier, according to the calendar anyway. Somewhere nourishing rains and lengthening days were coaxing flowers to show their colorful faces. Somewhere tree buds were awakening from their long winter rest, and grass was once again growing green.

Somewhere, but not here. Snow still covered most of the ground in the forest that surrounded me. The warmth of the season comes late, and slowly, to the mountains of Idaho.

I glanced at my husband, Jim, through a cloud of my condensed breath. He crouched nearby behind his movie camera. All of his years as a filmmaker led up to this moment, and he wasn’t about to let it slip by without capturing it on film.

Looking up from his eyepiece, he nodded. I walked cautiously toward the gaping black hole. With each step, I became more aware of the sounds around me. The gentle rush of a breeze and the chirping of black-capped chickadees mingled with the crunching and squishing of snow and mud under my boots. My own heartbeat reverberated through several layers of clothing.

There were other sounds, too. Distinct chirps, almost birdlike, pierced the frigid air. The source was unseen, distant yet nearby, but I knew what it was. So did the wolves.

Seven big and powerful gray wolves were gathered around the opening, pacing back and forth and trampling the ground into a muddy mess. They couldn’t go in—they instinctively knew that—so they took turns peering into the hole as they whined with excitement.

As I slowly reached the wolves, they made way for me, as if I were one of them. I knelt down on the damp ground and stared at the opening. Barely a minute went by. Then suddenly a wolf poked her head out. Her yellow eyes set against her black face were like two piercing lights. The sight would have startled—and maybe frightened—most people. But I knew those eyes well. They looked curious…intelligent…calm.

The black wolf emerged completely, revealing her full size. She greeted me with a tender whine, gave me a little lick on the nose, and sat beside me. We looked at each other. I gently spoke and asked if I could go where she had been. I tried to read her body language for any signs of fear or uncertainty. Was she annoyed that I was here? Would she attack me? She never had, but today was unlike any other, and quite frankly I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t bite me on the behind.

Her expression seemed only to say, “It’s okay, go on in. I trust you.”

That was the invitation I was hoping for. I took out a small flashlight from my jacket pocket and showed it to her. She inspected it and seemed satisfied that it posed no threat. I smiled and took a deep breath. Then I flicked on the light, lowered my head, and leaned in…

Why was I about to squeeze myself into this dark, damp hole in the ground? What did I expect to find? Stranger still, why was a large, powerful wolf sitting calmly beside me as I prepared to enter a place so precious to her that even other wolves were not allowed?

The answers to these questions are at the heart of this story. It’s a story of our adventures. It’s a story of our struggle and survival and the wolves’ struggle and survival, but also of trust, friendship, and even love. It’s a story of what happens when two people decide it would be a good idea to spend six years living in the wilderness with a pack of wolves.