GoldenEars

by Jane H Wood

  ‘Hide here and wait for me.’ Then with a flick of his tail he set off at a steady trot along the riverbank.

  He’d been travelling for several minutes, following the scent trail, when he heard a low growl coming from the thick reed beds ahead of him. Slowing his pace, he slinked through the long grass, keeping his head low as he weaved among the thick stems. He stopped and peered at the scene by the water’s edge.

  A solitary black bear stood in the shallows, its attention fixed on the fish pinned underneath his forepaws. The fish was thrashing violently, trying to break free, as the bear began pulling it apart with his strong jaws. A pungent mixture of blood and oils drifted downriver towards Joel. He sniffed the water, watching the trail of blood disperse, and he licked his mouth in anticipation.

  Several half-eaten fish littered the riverbank. The bear was being choosy, only eating the parts he wanted and discarding the rest.

  Joel’s sensitive nose told him more fish were further along the bank. With stealth he skirted round the bear, found the fish and helped himself. They were large river bass, and he was just finishing the second one when his stomach groaned appreciatively. A contented feeling washed over him. He was full.

  But there were four more fish just lying on the riverbank, waiting to be eaten. Joel licked his mouth, determined to take them. It was a challenge, for a slippery mucus oozed from their skins and every attempt to pick them up ended with him dropping them just as quickly.

  Sometime later Joel arrived back at the site where he’d left his little family. Mira popped her head out of a small scrape she had dug for them.

  ‘Over here, Joel!’

  Clenched between Joel’s teeth were two fish, their heads and tails hanging limply, like some strange silver moustache protruded from his muzzle. He dropped them on to the ground, licking the slippery slime off his mouth.

  ‘Eat, they are yours. I’ve eaten my fill,’ he said, lying down in the tall grasses.

  A while later both fish had been eaten, and with full stomachs everyone felt relaxed and sleepy.

  ‘We’ll stay here tonight, then decide where to go tomorrow,’ said Joel.

  Mira settled down beside him, nestling her nose close to her mate. Their breath smelt of fish but she didn’t care, they were together and would soon be reunited with their sons. Skeena wasn’t going to be left out and pushed her way between her parents, lying with her nose pressed against her mother’s cheek as they all drifted off to sleep.

  Morning dawned, dull and overcast. Joel woke to the sounds of the river rippling over the rocks and gently bubbling through the reed beds that grew in the shallows. He yawned lazily, then raised his muzzle and sniffed the air. He was met with the familiar scents of pine and the earthy undertones of damp river weed. With ease he stretched his forelegs, then stood up, slowly arching his back, feeling the sensation relieving his aching muscles.

  Silently, he emerged from their hiding place and meandered down to the riverbank. A cursory glance, first upriver then downriver, told him it was safe, and satisfied he was alone he lowered his head to drink. Feeling the warmth of her mate leave her side, Mira woke up and joined him.

  ‘Today, we will find the trail,’ said Joel, water dripping from his mouth. ‘Then Tuke and Kegg will be back where they belong,’ he said positively, and resumed lapping at the water’s edge.

  Hours went by as the little family continued trotting through the forest, although Joel wasn’t sure he was going in the right direction anymore.

  ‘We’ll pick up the trail soon enough,’ he said, feeling confident, mainly because Skeena looked better this morning.

  It was approaching noon when they heard a disturbing noise. Immediately Joel stopped and flicked his ears in warning. The little family darted into the shadows, huddling under the wide spreading branches of a spruce tree. Skeena felt a prickle of fear and shifted her position, edging closer to her mother.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Mira, peering into a clearing from the safety of the shadows.

  ‘It must be humans!’ Joel growled, and lifted his top lip in a snarl.

  He listened again, sensing something was wrong. The wind was gently blowing onto his face, bringing the sounds with it. He backed further into the shadows, and Mira and Skeena huddled beside him.

  A flock of birds took flight from the nearby trees, their shrill cries of alarm quickening his pulse. Suddenly it was right in their faces, the potent smell of something obnoxious, the relentless whining like a swarm of angry bees.

  A split second later four machines came hurtling out of the trees on the far side of the clearing, wheels bouncing and handlebars twisting, as their riders sped over the rough ground.

  ‘Humans!’ growled Joel, watching them disappear into the trees to their left, the sounds fading with them as they weaved through the undergrowth.

  It was then the air was filled with another sound, a sound capable of freezing your heart. That of wolves being chased, their desperate cries both potent and terrified. He stepped out from the shadows and scanned the direction where the distressing howls were coming from.

  Barely a minute passed when a high-pitched cry seared the air, followed by a sickening squealing. Something was dying, he thought. Then another, the sound hardening his heart, and he curled his lips in an all-consuming hatred.

  ‘We should see,’ said Mira with conviction. ‘Perhaps help,’ she added forcefully, facing Joel. Then the heart-rending cries of young wolves in distress filled the air, and without another word she raced to intercept.

  ‘Mira, wait!’ yelped Joel, fearful for her safety, and sprinted after her. ‘Come, Skeena!’ he yelped, glancing at his daughter.

  They raced through the trees, following the sounds of pain. The whining noise stopped… then resumed, growing fainter as it moved away. Mira came to a standstill and stared with horror as Joel and Skeena skidded to a halt beside her.

  A small family of wolves had just been killed; two adults and one young pup lay sprawled on the ground, bloodied and left for the flies.

  Mira couldn’t contain herself any longer, and in complete disregard for her safety she raced towards the little family. She padded from wolf to wolf, sniffing, hoping one would still be alive. She was whimpering in distress as she approached a tiny pup lying close to its dead mother. Its small delicate frame barely four months old, its soft grey fur held the cruel marks of a knife.

  Joel watched his mate, his heart pounding. He could feel her sadness, her anger, for it resided in his heart too. He stood rigid, his eyes roaming over each dead body… then one moved. The big male shifted and its head rose slightly then dropped again. Joel blinked and moved away from the trees. He wandered towards it, amazed it was still alive. With a short yelp he got Mira’s attention, and she quickly trotted over to him. The animal’s head moved again, but this time a muffled whimpering sound was coming from underneath its body.

  Joel grasped the wolf’s head in his jaws and pulled it sideways. Shielded by his dead father, a little body struggled free. A pup sat there whimpering in distress, his eyes searching each lifeless form lying on the ground.

  ‘Oh, little one, you are safe with us!’ cried Mira, nuzzling the pup. She licked his face tenderly.

  The pup looked at her; although he appeared unscathed he was covered with his father’s blood.

  ‘Are they dead?’ he gulped, his little body shaking.

  ‘Come!’ said Joel. ‘We must leave here. Bring the pup!’ he said, scanning the trees in case the men should return.

  ‘We will look after you. You’ll stay with us now, little one,’ said Mira softly.

  ‘Pepper… My name is Pepper,’ he stuttered, staring up into Mira’s gentle eyes.

  She nodded and coaxed him to follow her as Joel led them into the trees.

  The weeks drifted by, taking them into winter, and the occasional flurries of sleet changed into real
snow. They had travelled a long way, their direction drifting eastwards, but every now and then their sensitive noses kept drawing them southwards and unwittingly into danger.

  It was hard for Joel to admit he’d failed to pick up the trail of his sons.

  The adult pair walked side by side, with Skeena and Pepper following closely, each head bowed against the falling snow. Mira lifted her muzzle and caught the familiar scent of fowls coming through the trees.

  Joel scented them too. But after his last experience, he was reluctant to venture into man’s domain again, where the possibility of getting killed was high. Food had been elusive along the trail and small game was all they’d eaten. The amount of meat on the tiny rodents was insufficient for four hungry wolves, and everyone wanted more. Joel stopped and looked at his daughter, her expression strong and defiant. He nodded appreciatively, then looked at little Pepper beside her, his body thin and bedraggled.

  ‘We will hunt, go into the human place, take what we need and leave,’ he said aggressively.

  It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at the small chicken farm. The human dwelling stood near a group of tall spindly trees. The wolves stopped in the shadows, looking out at the farmstead from their hiding place, ears twitching and noses scenting the air.

  The sun was setting, casting a weak dappled light through the trees. Staying perfectly still, and camouflaged in their hiding place, they waited for the cover of darkness to descend.

  In the farmhouse garden was a wooden henhouse surrounded by a wire fence enclosure. Joel pondered the structure, taking in the height and wire spikes on the top. He would have to jump quite high but felt confident that it wouldn’t pose a problem.

  The entrance to the human dwelling remained in shadow and loomed dark and imposing as the evening light moved to touch the west-facing wall of the property. Adjacent to the house was a smaller building, the sun reflecting an arc of gold across its glass roof.

  He knew they would have to be quick, running in the open before they came to the flimsy wire enclosure. It was where the noisy birds roamed during the daytime. But they were now roosting in their wooden hut, oblivious to the danger lurking outside.

  The darkness of night descended, and a crescent moon appeared from behind a cloud, casting a misty light around its curved face.

  ‘Ready, Mira?’ Joel asked. ‘Skeena and Pepper, stay here but be ready to run,’ he whispered, and crept out of his hiding place like a shadow.

  With stealth, Mira kept low, following her mate to the wire fence. Barely pausing, they jumped it with ease and began pacing around the wooden henhouse, sniffing the ground, sensing where the doorway was.

  ‘We must be quick. In, grab one and out. Then run!’ Joel whispered urgently. Mira nodded.

  Rebalancing his weight, he prepared to push the little door in. He leaned back on his hind legs purposefully before thrusting forward through his strong forelegs and impacting on the little wooden door. With a crack the door succumbed, splintering off its hinges and making a loud thud as it landed on the ground.

  Not waiting, Joel darted inside and was met with a wall of noise and moving bodies fluttering past his face… Hens panicking, their wings flapping wildly, each one trying to get away. Briefly he was dazed, then with jaws poised he snapped blindly into the air, searching and finally catching one. He swiftly ran out.

  Mira darted through the open doorway… emerging seconds later covered with feathers, a dead chicken clenched in her jaws.

  The noise of breaking wood coupled with the loud squawking of terrified chickens hadn’t gone unnoticed by the humans. A beam of light tore into the darkness as a door was flung open. The black silhouette of a human charged out of the dwelling, his urgent footsteps crunching in the snow. The man was yelling something, then he stopped still in the snow, aimed his weapon… and fired. His garbled voice was lost among the gunfire as he repeatedly discharged his weapon.

  But the four wolves were long gone, merging into the blackness of the forest.

  Borrin crouched in his hiding place, watching his father race past him, leading his small family into the forest. He had been following them at a discreet distance ever since they had started their journey.

  But Borrin was in a dilemma, because without the death of the wolf with the golden hairs he couldn’t rejoin his pack. He knew Gower would be angry and perhaps even kill him. So now he was homeless and friendless, an outcast, and a picture of misery.

  ***

  The following day the farmer reported the incident to Max. The chief ranger had listened patiently to the man’s account, noting also that he wouldn’t be easily appeased.

  Max knew all the farmers and smallholders in the area, and usually Ted Miller was a level-headed man, but this blatant attack by wolves had thrown all reason out the window.

  ‘I want you to shoot the lot of them!’ demanded Ted, his temper getting the better of him.

  ‘I’ll send a ranger. He’ll scout around, make sure they’ve left the area. It’s unlikely they will return, Ted. I’ll put my best man on the job,’ Max promised.

  Josh Harrison, aged twenty-three, had only been working at the wildlife reserve for a month, but he was an experienced ranger, and he’d been assigned the task of sorting it out.

  The young ranger arrived at the farmstead, but he wasn’t prepared for the depth of feelings he encountered from the farmer and his wife. Even though the animals in question weren’t seen clearly, the man swore blind that wolves had violated his premises and were the only candidates for the misdeeds.

  Josh did his best to calm the situation, but the man was overreacting, his demands unreasonable. He tried to be sympathetic because he knew people could get very frightened with the thought of wild wolves prowling so close to their homes.

  After his discussion with the farmer, Josh duly searched the area. About half a mile into the forest he discovered paw prints around a pile of feathers and bones, clear evidence that wolves had eaten the fowls on this spot. He continued to search, but the wolves’ trail suddenly disappeared.

  Max was disturbed to learn that wolves felt confident enough to approach human settlements, and to kill livestock was like signing their own death warrants. The repercussions of this could ripple out of control, for it was possible that a desperate wolf could go a step too far and kill a person.

  If that should happen he wouldn’t have any control on what would follow, and follow very quickly. People in general hated wolves, and if there was an opportunity to kill one they wouldn’t hesitate.

  18

  Edmund was back at home and under strict orders from his doctor to take it easy and rest.

  At first, he didn’t mind at all, and leaned back comfortably in an armchair, permitting his parents to indulge his every whim. But as the weeks passed with nothing to relieve the boredom, other than his drawing skills, the days gradually changed from contented idleness to irritable moodiness, settling like a heavy weight, dulling his brain.

  He’d cooperated and done everything that was asked of him, even kept up the gentle exercises designed to strengthen the muscles in his injured arm and leg.

  Finally, to Edmund’s delight, his last outpatients’ appointment at the hospital was over. Doctor Price had given him a thorough check-up and afterwards announced that he was satisfied with his progress and would be discharging him from the hospital’s care.

  Those weeks were forgotten as the month of December moved towards the Christmas festivities, just days away. Edmund lay on his bed, gazing at his favourite picture pinned on the wall in front of him. The scene, depicted in winter, was of a pack of grey wolves running through the forest, the branches heavy with glistening snow. It was a beautiful glossy poster that his dad had bought him just before they left the wildlife reserve almost three months ago.

  He was remembering his last day with GoldenEars; that desperate feeling inside, not knowin
g what would become of him, or whether he would ever see him again. He remembered he’d urged him to be brave, to keep eating and grow big and strong. It had been so hard not to cry in front of the pup, but to do so would’ve portrayed the wrong message, and GoldenEars would have become frightened, which was the last thing he wanted.

  Just a few more days then Christmas would be over, he thought impatiently. He usually enjoyed Christmas and the festive season, but this year his parents had agreed, as a treat, that they would all visit the wildlife reserve for his seventeenth birthday, which was on December 28th. His nagging and pleading had worked, because he wanted with all his heart to go back there, and he kept talking about the wolves and the work of the rangers and how interested he was in becoming one himself.

  A visit is one thing, his dad had said, but living out there in the wilderness with all those wild animals around was far too dangerous. His mom wouldn’t even discuss it, and immediately changed the subject whenever he opened his mouth. The fear was all too evident in her eyes when he spoke about the wolves; she just didn’t understand. But a promise is a promise, and he knew his dad would arrange their visit with Max.

  Confident he’d see his friend, Edmund settled back against his pillow again, drifting into his own blissful world, imagining himself running through the forest with GoldenEars at his side. Feeling so settled about his future was a positive thing; it brought about a calmness he hadn’t experienced before. Picking up his coloured pencils, he began a drawing of his pup.

  Finally, Christmas Eve arrived, and to his surprise he was excited. Sitting on his bed wrapping presents was a pleasurable experience, although he hadn’t bought his parents very much because pocket money was non-existent now that he was older. But they deserved something after all the worry he’d put them through. To his relief and amazement, he’d discovered a few crumpled dollars tucked in the back of his wallet he’d forgotten he had. It didn’t amount to much but luckily it was enough to buy his mom a nice bottle of cologne and his dad a few bottles of his favourite beer. With one last piece of sticky tape, the job was done. He looked at his handiwork and nodded with satisfaction, placing the presents out of sight inside his wardrobe.