Wolf Totem: A Novel

by Jiang Rong

  Before long, they heard the chirps and squeaks of marmots, exploratory noises made by animals before emerging from their holes. If they detected no responses, they’d pop up in large numbers. There were no responses, so out they came, dozens of them, big and small, filling the air with chirps. From every hole, it seemed, a female emerged to survey the area, and when they saw there were no predators nearby, they chirped a slow, rhythmic all-clear signal, following which hordes of young animals shot out of the holes and began eating clumps of grass as far as thirty or forty feet from the safety of their holes. With vultures circling high above in the deep blue sky, the females kept a careful watch. If their winged natural enemies descended, the marmot mothers chirped a frantic warning, which sent the young animals scurrying back to the safety of their holes, where they waited for the danger to pass.

  When Chen moved slightly, Dorji laid his hand on his back to have him stay still. “Look at that hole over there,” he whispered. “There’s a wolf. He’s looking forward to a meal of marmot, just like us.” Chen immediately grew alert and turned his head to look. A large male marmot was standing in front of its hole, front legs folded in front of its chest as it scanned the area, obviously reluctant to leave the hole to graze on the grass. Male and female marmots live separately. The females live in one hole with their offspring; the males live alone in another. A large clump of tall grass lay not far below this particular male’s hole, and as it swayed in gentle breezes, the tops of brown rocks peeked through. The shifting shadows made it difficult to discern anything farther below.

  “I don’t see a wolf,” Chen said. “Nothing but a few rocks.”

  “There’s a wolf hidden beside one of those rocks, and I’ll bet it’s been there for a long time.”

  Straining to look closer, Chen thought he could make out the partial figure of a wolf. “You’ve got better eyes than me,” he said. “I didn’t spot it.”

  “If you don’t know how wolves hunt marmots,” Dorji explained, “you’d never spot one like this. They have to stay downwind of their prey, hidden in a clump of grass below a marmot hole. Catching one of those things is hard, even for a wolf, so they concentrate on big males. See that big one standing there? Damn near as big as a newborn lamb. It’s enough for one wolf meal. If it’s a wolf you’re looking for, head for the nearest male marmot hole, then scan the tall grass downwind from it.”

  “Well, I learned another trick today,” Chen declared happily. “But when will the marmot decide to go down and eat? I want to see how the wolf catches it. There are holes everywhere, and the minute the wolf shows itself, the marmots will scramble down the nearest one.”

  Dorji said, “It takes a smart wolf to catch a marmot. They have a trick to keep marmots from getting into a hole. Let’s see how this one does.”

  They looked downhill, where their sheep were still lying in the grass, so they decided to be patient and see what happened. “Too bad we didn’t bring a dog,” Dorji said. “If we had, we could wait till the wolf got this one, then turn the dog loose and follow it on horseback. The marmot would become a meal—but ours, not the wolf’s.”

  “Why don’t we chase it anyway?” Chen said. “We might catch it.”

  “No way,” Dorji said. “Just look. The wolf is on the mountain ridge, so it would be heading downhill, and we’d be riding uphill. And once the wolf made it over the ridge, you’d never see it again. Besides, with all those marmot holes, our horses can’t run fast.” Chen gave up on the idea.

  “No, we’ll lay some traps tomorrow,” Dorji said. “I just brought you here today to look around. Wolves will only be catching marmots for another couple of weeks. Once the rains come and the mosquitoes emerge, they no longer go after them. Why? Because they’re afraid of the mosquitoes, who attack their noses, eyes, and ears, making them jump into the air and give themselves away, which sends the marmots scurrying back into their holes. That’s when the wolves give up on marmots and turn their attention to our sheep and horses. That’s bad news for us and our livestock.”

  The big male watched the other marmots gorging themselves on the grass until it couldn’t stand it any longer and left the safety of its hole for the tempting grass several feet away. After a few tentative bites, it ran back to its hole and chirped loudly. “See how it won’t eat the grass around its hole? They save that as a sort of barrier. Things out here are never easy,” Dorji said. “One careless moment is all it takes to lose your life.”

  Chen watched the wolf with growing anxiety. It didn’t seem to have a clear view of the marmot from its hiding place, and would have to rely on sound to determine the location and movements of its prey. It pressed itself down so flat that it had nearly burrowed into the ground.

  After four or five lightning trips to the grass and back, the marmot relaxed, sensing there was no danger, and ran over to a spot where the grass was at its most lush. Five or six minutes passed; then, all of a sudden, the wolf stood up. What surprised Chen was that instead of rushing over to pounce on the marmot, the wolf pawed at some loose rocks, sending several of them rolling downhill, making noise as they built up speed and grew in number. Chen watched as the marmot, now twenty feet or more from its hole, looked up in fright, turned, and raced back toward safety. But the wolf streaked toward the marmot hole, reaching it at about the same time as its inhabitant. Before the marmot could scurry down the hole, the wolf had it by the scruff of its neck. It was quickly flung to the ground, where the wolf sank its teeth into its neck. Then the wolf picked it up and ran off, quickly crossing the ridge. The whole maneuver had taken less than thirty seconds.

  All the other marmots had vanished. The two men sat up. Images of the wolf catching its prey replayed in Chen’s head. He was speechless. The wisdom of the wolf was unfathomable. An almost magical beast.

  The sunlight had turned from white to yellow, and the sheep were once again grazing, having moved several hundred feet to the west. Chen and Dorji talked for a few minutes before deciding to return to their flocks, turn them around, and head back to camp. But just as they their flocks, turn them around, and head back to camp. But just as they were about to climb into the saddle, Chen noticed some stirring among his sheep. Quickly taking out his telescope, he trained it on the left edge of the flock, where he spotted a large wolf slipping out of the bed of flowers and pouncing on one of his sheep, pinning it to the ground. Chen’s face turned white from fright, and he was about to scream when Dorji stopped him. He swallowed the scream and watched as the wolf tore flesh from one of the live sheep’s rear legs. As one of the lower animals, sheep won’t make a sound when they see blood. This one struggled, pawing the ground with its front legs, but, unlike a goat, made no sound, no plea for help.

  “We’re too far away to save the sheep,” Dorji said. “Let the wolf eat. When it’s gorged itself till it can’t run, we’ll get it. All right, you damned wolf,” he continued calmly, “you think you can take one of our sheep right under our eyes. Well, we’ll see about that!” They moved over behind a big rock so as not to give themselves away too early.

  Obviously, they’d encountered a bold and very hungry wolf. Seeing that the flock had been unattended for a long time, it had moved through the tall grass and wildflowers up next to it, then pounced and immediately started eating the fat sheep. It saw the men and horses up on the ridge, but didn’t run away. Keeping one eye on the men and calculating how far away they were, it ate as fast and as much as it could. No wonder the cub back at camp turns mealtime into a battle, Chen was thinking. Out on the grassland, time is food, and a wolf given to leisurely eating will starve to death.

  Chen had heard shepherds tell stories about trading sheep for wolves, and this encounter appeared to be shaping up as one of those strategic battles. Trading a sheep for a mature wolf was a bargain. A single adult wolf will eat ten or more sheep every year, not to mention the occasional horse or colt. A shepherd who trades a single sheep for a wolf will be neither criticized nor punished by the brigade; he will be commended.
What worried Chen was the possibility of losing a sheep without bringing in a wolf. That would be considered a serious loss. He stared at the wolf through his glass, watching as an entire leg—wool, skin, and all—wound up in the wolf’s stomach in half a minute or less. That sheep was doomed, and Chen was hoping the wolf would eat the whole animal. He and Dorji moved slowly toward their horses. They removed the fetters, clutched the reins tightly, and waited with their hearts in their throats.

  Sheep are truly stupid animals. When the wolf knocked the unfortunate sheep to the ground, the other sheep scattered in fright. But the entire flock soon calmed down, and there were even a few animals that timidly drew closer to watch the wolf eat a member of their flock. As they looked on, more joined them, until at least a hundred sheep had virtually penned the wolf and its bloody victim in; they pushed and shoved and craned their necks to get a better look. Their expressions seemed to say, “Well, the wolf is eating you and not me!” Either that or, “You’re dying so I can live.” Their fear was measured by a sense of gloating. None made a move to stop the wolf.

  Startled by the scene, Chen was reminded of the writer Lu Xun, who had written about a crowd of dull-witted Chinese looking on as a Japanese swordsman was about to lop off the head of a Chinese prisoner. What was the difference between that and this? No wonder the nomads see the Han Chinese as sheep. A wolf eating a sheep may be abhorrent, but far more loathsome were cowardly people who acted like sheep.

  Dorji was in a quandary. Known throughout the brigade as a first-rate hunter, he was now in the unenviable position of having abandoned his flock to take a Beijing student marmot hunting, in the process losing a nice fat sheep to a lone wolf in broad daylight. With the female sheep gone, her lamb would not be able to suckle and grow big and fat, dooming it for the coming winter. In a brigade devoted to raising livestock, this counts as negligence, for which Chen was sure to be criticized and Dorji implicated. Worst of all, why had this happened to the two individuals who were raising wolf cubs back at camp? Someone who doesn’t care about sheep should not be a shepherd, and wolves will seek revenge against anyone who raises one of their own. Every member of the brigade who opposed the idea of taking a wolf out of the wild would jump on the incident as proof that they were right. Chen’s fears mounted.

  Dorji kept his glass trained on the wolf, gradually gaining confidence in what they were to do. “I’ll take responsibility for the loss of the sheep,” he said. “But the pelt will be mine. Once I hand that over to Bao Shungui, you and I will come off looking good.”

  The wolf sped up the pace of its eating, never taking its eyes off of the men watching it. Tearing off hunks of flesh and swallowing them whole, it seemed almost crazed. “Even the smartest wolf will do stupid things when it’s hungry,” Dorji said. “Doesn’t it realize that pretty soon it won’t be able to run away? This is definitely not one of the smart wolves, and one that’s no good at catching marmots. It probably hasn’t eaten for days.”

  Chen saw that the wolf had already consumed half a sheep; its belly was round and taut. “What are we waiting for?” he asked.

  “Take it easy,” Dorji replied. “Let’s wait a little longer. But then we have to move fast. We’ll come in from the south and drive the wolf in the opposite direction, since that’s where the other shepherds are. They can help us run it down.”

  Dorji watched a while longer, then cried, “Mount up!” Leaping into their saddles, they rode down the slope south of the flock. The wolf had already planned its escape route, and the instant it saw the men riding toward him, it bit off and swallowed a couple more bites, abandoned what was left of the now dead sheep, turned, and headed north. But it hadn’t gone far when it staggered, realizing it had miscalculated badly. It skidded to a halt, lowered its head, and hunkered down.

  “Uh-oh, that’s bad!” Dorji shouted. “It’s bringing up what it just ate.”

  Chen watched as the wolf arched its back and vomited great heaps of sheep flesh. This was their chance. They spurred their horses on, frantically shortening the distance between them and the regurgitating wolf.

  Chen was aware that wolves will bring up food for their young, but this surprised him: a wolf vomiting food that would slow it down. It may have been a starving wolf, but it was not a stupid one, and if it succeeded in emptying its stomach, the men’s potential problem would become a real one. Chen whipped his horse on, but Dorji was outdistancing him, all the while shouting to scare the wolf and alert the shepherds on the mountain ahead. When he was dangerously close, the animal stopped vomiting and ran for its life, gaining top speed in no time. When Chen rode up to where the wolf had stopped, he saw a large pile of bloody meat, and the sight momentarily unnerved him; but then he whipped his horse mercilessly and rejoined the chase.

  The wolf must have stopped vomiting before its stomach was empty, and what remained had not had time to turn to energy. It was fast, but slower than usual, and Dorji had no trouble keeping up with it. Seeing that it could not shake its pursuer, the wolf veered off in the direction of a steep hill, a trick all grassland wolves resorted to when their lives were in imminent danger. Then, out of nowhere, the shepherd Sanjai appeared at the crest of the hill; raising his lasso pole, he cut off the wolf’s escape route, making it shudder in fear. That lasted only an instant before it abruptly changed course and headed straight for a flock of sheep that was grazing nearby. The wolf, Chen was surprised to realize, was going to create havoc in the flock, putting the sheep between it and the riders, who would have to rein in their horses. It would then break out on the other side and get away.

  But the animal’s momentary hesitation had given Dorji a chance to gallop up next to it and Sanjai enough time to block its way. As it turned to change course a second time, Dorji leaned forward in the saddle, thrust out his lasso pole, shook the rope to form a noose, and neatly looped it around the wolf’s neck, immediately pulling it tight before the wolf had a chance to pull its neck back into its shoulders. With his rope looped tightly around the animal’s throat, behind its ears, Dorji spun his horse around and began dragging it behind him.

  The fight went out of the wolf as its weight further tightened the noose. Its tongue lolled from its open mouth as it struggled to breathe, but bloody froth was already seeping out. Dorji began dragging it uphill, increasing the stranglehold. Chen rode up and watched as the death spasms began. He breathed a sigh of relief. Their screwup wasn’t going to get them in hot water after all. He was relieved, yes, but not excited, for he was witness to the violent death of a wolf that had been alive and active only moments before. The grassland is a cruel place, exacting terrible costs from all who struggle to survive in its core. The slow, the clumsy, and the dull are ruthlessly eliminated. A heavy sorrow filled Chen’s heart. The dying wolf had been possessed with intelligence and strength. In the world of humans, would anyone that smart and that courageous have been eliminated?

  The wolf had gone limp by the time Dorji was halfway up the hill, but it was still breathing and still losing blood. Dorji jumped to the ground, jerking the pole with both hands so the wolf could not get to its feet. When he’d pulled it up to where he stood, he grasped his herding club and crushed the wolf’s head with it. Then he took out his Mongol dagger and buried it in the animal’s chest. The wolf was dead by the time Chen got down off his horse. After kicking the animal a couple of times and seeing no reaction, Dorji mopped his sweaty forehead, sat down, and smoked a cigarette.

  Sanjai rode up and looked down at the dead wolf. “Good job,” he said, and then went out to round up Dorji’s sheep. Chen rode over to his flock to do the same and get them headed back to camp. He then went back up the hill to watch Dorji skin the wolf. In the heat of summer, there is always a concern that a pelt will begin to stink, so instead of skinning the animal with the legs intact, the grasslanders skin the wolf like they do a sheep, producing a flat pelt. By the time Chen reached him, Dorji had already laid the pelt out on the ground to dry in the sun.

  “That’s
the first time I’ve seen a wolf killed with a lasso pole,” Chen remarked. “How were you so confident?”

  With a bit of a gloating laugh, Dorji said, “I saw right away that this wasn’t a very smart wolf. A really clever one would have shaken off the noose as soon as it landed by drawing its neck in.”

  “You’ve got sharp eyes,” Chen complimented him. “I’m no match for you, and couldn’t be if I spent the next five years trying. Then there’s my horse. Next year I’m going to get some good stud horses. You can’t get by out here without a good horse.”

  “Have Batu give you one of his,” Dorji said. “He’s your big brother; he’ll do it.”

  Suddenly, Chen was reminded of the wolf cub he’d given Dorji. “There’s been so much going on lately,” he said, “I haven’t had a chance to ask about your cub.”

  “Didn’t they tell you?” Dorji shook his head. “What a shame. I killed it a couple of days ago.”

  “What?” Chen blurted out, suddenly heartsick. “You killed it? Why? What happened?”

  “I should have chained it up, like you did,” he said. “My cub was smaller than yours, and not as wild, so I kept it in a pen with some puppies. After a month or so, it had gotten used to being around dogs, and everybody treated it like just another dog. But it soon outgrew the puppies, and got more and more like a wolfhound. Everyone favored him, especially my four-year-old son. But a couple of days ago, while they were playing, out of the blue he attacked my son, taking a bloody bite out of his belly. It scared the hell out of the boy, who screamed and bawled. Unlike a dog’s, a wolf’s fangs are lethal, and I was so startled I clubbed it to death. Then I rushed my son over to see the brigade’s barefoot doctor, Peng, who gave him a couple of shots. Fortunately, that was the end of it, except that my son’s belly is still swollen.”