by Jane H Wood
‘Well, this is quite a place, isn’t it?’ said Bert, trying to keep his tone level. He didn’t want to antagonise his friend, but he was secretly impressed by what Max had shown them. He wandered over to the window and surveyed the area below, cleared of trees and used as a visitors’ car park.
Beyond the boundary of trees the forest began again, with a variety of evergreen conifers dominating the area. Their dense foliage seemed dark and impenetrable to Bert’s eyes and his attention quickly drifted over the treetops and away into the distance. It was beautiful and natural with not a trace of tarmac in sight.
Sam was thinking about Edmund. The look on his son’s face when he saw the pup… He couldn’t put his finger on it. Then it dawned on him – it was of understanding, respect and love. He had never had a relationship with an animal, let alone a wild one.
‘Yes, this is an interesting place, all right,’ Sam conceded, ‘and I admire their work, but I’ll be glad when we can go home in two days. You know, get back to normal.’ He made himself comfortable on the bed nearest the door.
There was a light knock on the door; Bert left his unpacking and opened it. A young woman was standing beside Edmund. She smiled pleasantly, noticing Bert’s surprised face staring at her.
‘Hello, I’m Claire,’ she said brightly. ‘Edmund wasn’t sure which room you were in, so I thought I’d show him… You’ll be all right now,’ she said, turning to give Edmund a wink.
‘Thanks,’ he called casually and limped inside. He felt tired and sweaty, and everything ached.
‘Oh, Edmund, are you okay?’ asked Bert, offering a hand for support.
Sam jumped off the bed. ‘Come and lie down; you look a bit pale, son… I think you’ve overdone it.’
Edmund slumped on the edge of the nearest bed, his heart pounding in his chest. He breathed deeply, trying to dispel the sickly feeling churning his stomach.
‘Well, this is our room, three single beds. Your dad’s claimed the one you’re sitting on, so which of the remaining two would you like?’ Bert asked.
Edmund didn’t answer immediately; instead he gulped another breath, waiting for his heartbeat to settle into a more comfortable rhythm. Feeling better, he stood and limped across to the window. The forest stretched on for miles, drifting up the hillside. It was predominantly green, he noted, although splashes of autumnal colours were appearing. Shades of vivid reds, orangey yellows and coppery browns – it was as though someone had daubed wet paint onto a canvas in wild abandonment. The bright colours inspired him to draw a picture, but then he remembered his dad and Bert were in the room. Besides, he hadn’t brought any drawing materials with him. He took a deep breath, feeling a wave of contentment and happiness wash over him as he turned to face his dad.
‘I’ll take the bed by the window, and thank you, Dad, for bringing me here. This is a great place, isn’t it? The work they do is fascinating, don’t you agree?’ he said, unaware his eyes had glazed over as he thought about it.
It was early morning when Kegg awoke. He was still inside the building, housed in the small pen for his own safety. He had eaten all the food offered on the previous day and was hungry again. He gazed around the room, noting its emptiness and the strange lingering scents of his surroundings. A water dish had been left in the corner of his pen, the metal gleaming, inviting him to drink. His thirst overruled his cautiousness and he bravely approached the dish and began to lap up the cool water.
On waking, Edmund’s instant thought was to rush downstairs and see his pup. Still dressed in his pyjamas, he hurried into the veterinary section. He paused on the threshold, watching his friend drinking, so calm and relaxed, and he wandered over to him, beaming.
‘GoldenEars, my boy, breakfast, I think. Let me find that tin of food. I think it’s in the fridge,’ he said happily, opening the door of the little refrigerator and retrieving the tin. Finding the dish and a spoon he entered the small pen, wincing uncomfortably as he lowered himself to the floor. The instant he settled himself, Kegg was on him, knocking him backwards with his enthusiasm. An uncomfortable ache lanced through his chest and he lay there, momentarily stunned.
It had happened so quickly, for in Kegg’s eagerness he’d inadvertently pushed against the recovering wound in his chest. In a quick response the little wolf pup immediately jumped off him, whimpering, realising he’d hurt the boy.
‘I’m all right, but not so rough,’ Edmund said, sitting up and rubbing his chest.
Kegg watched him for a moment, reluctant to come closer in case he should hurt him again. Then, sensing he was all right, he crept forward and gently licked his hand, and all was well again.
Two blissful days passed all too quickly, with Edmund rarely venturing far from GoldenEars’ side. But now the dreaded morning of their departure had arrived. With a heavy heart he made his way outside to the enclosure, where GoldenEars now resided with his brother.
Edmund lingered beside the fence, expecting the pup to race towards him. But to his disappointment, the young wolf hadn’t heard his approach. He remained sitting on a log, his back turned, appearing to be straining to see the distant mountains. Edmund followed his gaze. The mountains were so far away, just an indistinct mass on the horizon. Perplexed, his attention returned to the young wolf, wondering why they interested him so much.
Edmund remained where he was, unmoving, watching his friend. Then an unusual sight triggered a response in him that was so unexpected, he shivered.
It was when the young wolf pup began to sway very gently from side to side, as though he was listening to some agreeable music. Then his little body twitched, and simultaneously his ears flicked in annoyance as if a fly was bothering him. Edmund shook his head, slightly amused, and entered the enclosure. He knelt down.
‘GoldenEars, here, boy, come.’
The young wolf pup shook his head and turned, then bounded off the log and trotted towards him. They were together again, with Edmund cradling him in his arms, hugging him close. Kegg went limp in his arms, contented, his chin resting on the boy’s shoulder, and he whimpered softly.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Edmund, stroking him gently. Kegg knew the boy would leave him soon. He could sense it.
It took Edmund a while to compose himself before he could gaze into those beautiful golden eyes and gentle face. He swallowed uncomfortably, feeling a lump forming in his throat.
‘I have to leave you very soon, but I promise I’ll come back,’ he said, fighting the urge to cry. Kegg licked his cheek, the trust evident in his face.
‘You continue to eat, GoldenEars, you hear me?! Get big and strong,’ he gulped again. ‘I promise with all my heart I’ll come back. Please, please stay well, my friend.’ Edmund kissed him on the side of his soft cheek and placed him back on the grass. He stood up quickly and turned to leave.
Kegg sat mutely, watching him go. The boy was hurrying away, back towards the building. He sniffed the air, feeling anxious, and surveyed the enclosure. Spotting his brother lying among the tall grasses, he trotted over to him.
Edmund felt worried about leaving the pup because he didn’t want him to become ill again. Coming to a decision, he went along to see Max.
‘What… what’s going to happen to the pups?’ he asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer because he had an inkling what Max might say.
The chief ranger looked up from his desktop full of papers and smiled kindly at him.
‘I know this is difficult for you, and I do understand, but we treat animals who are ill or injured then release them back into the wild. Now, those pups look about six, maybe seven, months old, and if we release them now they are likely to die of hunger or suffer predation by other animals. So, our plan is to keep them outside, away from human contact as best we can, feed them up, and when they are a few months older we shall reintroduce them back into the wild, and then they will have to take their chances like the
other wolves out there,’ said Max, watching the worry creep into Edmund’s face as he spoke.
‘But you can come visit anytime, you know that.’
‘Um, what do you mean, take their chances out there?’ Edmund asked, puzzled.
‘Well… not everyone loves wolves, you know. Many people hate them; they’re thought of as vermin and consequently are hunted, and many are killed each year. It’s an obscene sport and a growing problem here on our reserve where hunting is prohibited,’ answered Max, unaware his voice had risen while he was explaining to the boy. It was a passionate subject to him, and he couldn’t help getting fired up whenever he spoke about it.
Edmund looked shocked. ‘You can’t release them. GoldenEars could be killed! He must stay here on the reserve where he’s protected! Please, Max!’ he begged, wide-eyed in horror.
Max tapped his pen irritably on the desk.
‘Believe me, I would do it if I could,’ he said vehemently, glancing down at the papers he’d been reading, regarding hunting that continued throughout the entire country and the inadequate laws that were failing to protect the wildlife that chose to live within the reserve grounds.
He pushed the folder to one side with an air of distaste. Although he’d accepted this job as chief ranger over fifteen years ago, the problem remained as prevalent as ever and killings occurred all too frequently. Max swallowed in an effort to compose himself before looking up into Edmund’s expectant face.
‘But wolves have to be free – they roam, follow their prey, although sometimes they do stay in the same territory for a while, if food is plentiful or young are born, for instance. There aren’t any fences here, and if they leave the reserve they are open to hunters. However, it’s not guaranteed safety even here on the reserve. I wish it were. We patrol regularly, but for all that the hunters slip through and killings do take place,’ he intoned flatly, trying hard to conceal his strong feelings on the subject.
Edmund listened quietly, his eyes growing wider in alarm.
‘I had no idea! Why do people hate wolves so much?’ he asked, as a surge of anger raced through his mind.
The chief ranger shook his head slowly.
‘We can only do so much,’ he said finally, opening the desk drawer and putting the folder away.
Edmund was quiet, thinking it over. He was ignorant about such matters, never previously giving a thought to what went on, but now it mattered a great deal to him. He looked up, his expression resolute. He felt different somehow, motivated by love; he’d finally found a purpose.
‘I would love to do the work you do. You know, be a ranger. Is that possible?’
‘Anything is possible, Edmund. If your grades aren’t bad, then your training could be organised. If your parents are agreeable, of course!’ said Max, smiling because Edmund’s face had brightened and a look of determination shined from his eyes.
‘Thank you, Max. I would really love that… but…’ His voice trailed away as the excitement drained away as quickly as it had come.
The reality of such a job for him was pure make-believe because his parents would never agree. He blew out a breath of frustration, remembering his Mom’s frightened face bending over him as he lay injured in his hospital bed.
‘Are you thinking about your parents?’ asked Max intuitively, noting Edmund’s face drop in disappointment.
He glanced up at the chief ranger, his enthusiasm gone. ‘Yes, I am. And I don’t think it will be possible after all… but what about GoldenEars? I need to see him, and he needs me too,’ he finished abruptly, feeling a knot twist in his stomach and a sinking feeling of foreboding sweep over him.
‘If this is something you really want to do, young man, you’ll have your work cut out persuading your parents. I’ll help if I can, but initially it’s up to you.’ He paused. ‘I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay here,’ added Max, trying to lighten the mood. ‘If it’s any consolation I’ve noticed your dad and Bert smiling a lot. I believe they’ve enjoyed it too! But don’t say I told you.’ He winked, watching Edmund’s face light up as his words sank in.
‘I’ve loved it here, Max, so much. Thank you, and seeing GoldenEars… well, it’s been the best, and maybe we’ll see each other again. I hope so.’
‘Yes, I hope so too. So, what’s next? Do you have to go back to the hospital or are you travelling straight home?’
‘Well, the helicopter will pick us up just before noon and take us back to the hospital. But tomorrow, if all’s well, I believe I can go home. Although there’s a lot of boring appointments booked, you know, check-ups and things,’ he grumbled and pulled a face.
17
The little family continued on their journey southwards, encountering human dwellings, some dotted along the roadside while others were strewn in isolation in the open fields.
They had unwittingly entered farming territory, where humans shoot first and ask questions later. Food had grown scarce along the trail, and their hunger increased with each passing day. Their prey was wise enough to keep out of sight and avoid any contact with humans, staying as far away as possible.
The land levelled as they darted across another road, the trees gradually thinning, revealing bare scorched earth where the summer sun had killed the grasses. But summer was over, and fall had crept up on them.
Perplexed, Joel scanned the sweeping hillside. It had changed its position somehow, moved sideways, and now appeared to be on their right flank.
‘Are you sure this is the way?’ asked Mira quizzically, stopping to scent the air.
Joel was beginning to doubt himself as he studied the lie of the land. Large areas of land had been cleared for crops, where wooden posts were strung with twisted wire that ringed the entire field. The metal wire was almost invisible near ground level, but the top thicker strand glistened as its sharp spikes caught the sun.
A field lay directly in their path, blocking the way they wanted to go. They had a choice: either go through it, or around it. Joel crouched low beside the fence, trying to decide what to do. The field had been harvested a while ago, leaving only dry yellow stubble poking out of the earth. Their only cover was a variety of nettles and weeds growing around the base of each post and intermittently along the perimeter of the field.
‘I am sure the flying thing came this way. We’ll go around, but keep low,’ he warned, nudging Mira’s cheek.
‘I’m hungry, Father!’ moaned Skeena suddenly and sat down on the grass, her strength exhausted.
He’d kept up a blistering pace in his determination to find his sons, and now, unnoticed by himself and Mira, their daughter was suffering from his selfish actions. He shook his head wearily, understanding her need, for no one had eaten very much since they’d arrived in this sparse area of flat barren lands. Mira licked her daughter’s face in an effort to comfort her.
‘A while ago we passed a human place that smelt of domestic fowls,’ she said, looking back up the trail. ‘I could hear their annoying squawking coming from behind the dwelling… Perhaps we should go back. What do you think?’
Joel pondered their situation. Then a gust of wind brought a new sound, and he turned, listening intently.
A gentle, contented clucking was coming from an enclosure built close to a human dwelling a short distance ahead. Just then a dog began barking. He hesitated nervously, but the animal didn’t appear to be advancing. It must be tethered, he thought, and dismissed any threat it might pose.
‘Fowls!’ replied Joel. ‘No need to go back, we’ll take what we want from here! Skeena, keep out of sight and wait for us.’
With stealth, the adults crept along the edge of the field, their bodies obscured by the thick nettles and weeds. Joel came to a halt among the last clump of weeds and tall grasses. Mira crouched at his shoulder, sensing her mate was preparing to dash ahead and raid the henhouse. It appeared impossible from where she lay; the wooden hut looke
d sturdy and secure, set amid a wire enclosure.
‘I’ll go first. Wait here,’ he whispered, already on the move. As soon as he broke cover a loud ear-piercing sound lanced through the air and, simultaneously, the fence post close beside him shattered, sending shards of splintered wood in all directions. Another loud crack followed, sending spits of dirt and dust off the ground mere inches from his forepaws.
Alarmed, he turned to run, witnessing Mira already on the move ahead of him, and in a blur of pale and dark fur they fled.
‘Run!’ howled Joel, almost upon Skeena, and together they all raced back the way they’d come, twisting through the trees and onwards through the undergrowth, before coming to a halt beside a river. They were panting hard, and furtively scanned the land behind them in case the human had given chase.
Joel snorted with annoyance, although relieved they’d got away without any injuries. This wasn’t the first time he’d ventured close to a human dwelling, and it felt good to be back among the trees.
‘We will walk along the river,’ he panted. ‘Perhaps we’ll find some rodents. Anything will do. We need to eat.’
They hadn’t walked far when Skeena sat down.
‘Just leave me here,’ she panted. ‘I’ll catch you up in a bit.’
The adult pair hesitated, watching their daughter panting for breath. She’d lost weight and looked thin and vulnerable sitting there. Joel felt guilty; after all, everything they’d gone through was his doing. In desperation he scanned the area for a suitable hiding place for her.
‘Over there, my daughter, rest,’ indicated Joel, staring at a dense area of shrubbery. ‘We will return with food.’
‘I think I should stay,’ said Mira, reluctant to leave her unprotected. They were still in dangerous territory and couldn’t afford to be complacent.
Joel didn’t answer, his nose busy deciphering a scent on the air. Mingling with the smell of river weed, algae and grasses, he detected fish, unpleasant and rotting. Perhaps food wasn’t so far away, he decided.
