A Story About Memory


A long time ago in the Northern World, five wolf pups were born. The mouth of the den should have shown the pale colors of a new day in early spring, instead, a late blizzard still howled. Standing outside, he sensed their newness, their raw copper smell, turned, and trotted into the swirling gloom.

There was change in the air this spring, seven long years into this last winter. The days slowly grew longer, and those pups grew larger, more active, their names bouncing across the clearing with echoing yelps. It was a teaching time.

Time to:
Learn the nuance of lifted lip, raised tail, lowered head, ears back.
Run close to the ground, rotting leaves whispering by.
Suddenly freeze.
Leap high, stiff legged, to pin mouse between your feet,
Salty blood.
Sudden impact from the side, a flurry of oversize legs as two pups roll.

Later, asleep,
Crossed bodies; sudden savagery, sudden innocence.

Wolf's mind wanders in time, there being no distinctions of forward or back, past or present. Of future, we don't know. There was a time when his brother no longer came home. The empty place slowly filled with everyday detail; long winters came and went. His mate and he had been separated from their original pack shortly after meeting. They had foraged alone in a foreign world, wandering most of their lives.

They had seen some of their kind in the company of humans, and wondered about this. Always tending further North. The empty places came suddenly and slowly filled. Children lost, or stillborn tainted the fragrance of many springs. His parents are long gone now, as well as many friends. The contentment of full bellies gave way to longing, to hunting, that unsurpassable thrill, a cycle that has become life.

This is a good time, now. The Harvest Moon is rising. Wolf is still free, and running an easier downhill trail, tongue lolling in his own wind. Golden leaves swirl in his wake like memories. Rising to consciousness, fluttering slowly to rest. Air rushes into his face, is suddenly pushed from his lungs as she slams playfully into his right side. She has ambushed him again, involuntarily raising his hackles, a snarl flickers momentarily across his face as he regains his balance. They run on together, direction altered.

This is a sculpture about wolf and mate, men and women, humans and animals. It is about the surprising joy of life, always seasoned by memories of sadness, haunted by memories of happiness, and enlivened by sudden inspiration.

© 1996, Chapel, San Leandro, California