and tigers and wolves, oh my!”
He began growling, baring his teeth, and raising his claws like the Big Bad Wolf, and the children responded with giggles and squeals of delight.
He had to find food for his mate. The biological imperative had driven the dark-gray beast farther than usual from the den. It was nighttime now, but his powerful olfactory sense detected the smell of small game. There—over there, the place where the great beasts roamed at running speed over the hard not-grass. He would have to cross it, even though he feared the noise and the strange odors. No sooner had he started across than one of the monsters bore down on him. He felt the terrible pain radiate throughout his body as he was thrown into the air by the impact. He landed in the ditch by the side of the road. His legs twitched briefly, and then his life force departed to run and hunt forever in the Elysian Fields.
The SUV driver had felt the impact, as he rounded the bend on the tortuous mountain road.
“Can’t stop now,” he said, out loud. “Have to be in Pittsburgh by mid-morning.”
She grew weaker. Powerful hunger stirred her, but her injuries kept her from roaming outside the den. Where was her mate?
“Tio Galen, something must be wrong. We haven’t seen the male wolf in three days.”
“Yes, Tonio, I agree. That’s not like him. I have a bad feeling he’s been injured or killed. Around here, it’s either hunters or cars. And the female can’t travel to hunt. She must be starving.”
He stroked his jaw line a moment, pondering the dilemma.
“Go up to the house and ask Tia Nancy if she has any raw meat we could leave near the den opening.”
As Tonio raced back to the house, the old man marveled at the boy’s speed and agility. He felt … proud.
Tonio returned about ten minutes later carrying a paper bag. Then man and boy quietly approached within a few steps of the den and placed the chopped beef, which Nancy had provided, on the ground, being careful to hold only the wax paper wrapping to avoid scenting the meat with their hands.
They retreated as quietly as they had come, waiting and watching from the blind, until the female caught the smell and dragged herself to the opening. She saw the meat then looked around for her mate. Who else could have brought it? But his scent was not there. Something else was—something she had not experienced before. Her hunger quickly overpowered her fear, and she grabbed as much of the food as she could in one bite and slipped back into the den.
They had bonded, the old dog and the younger one. They had escaped from the two-legged pain-giver, and now they roamed the countryside as their distant ancestors once did, living off small game and the occasional, unsealed garbage can.
Slowly, the wounds of that day had healed, as little by little the buckshot fell from the pits it had made in their bodies. They would not have comprehended it, but when Caddler had let loose with both barrels, he was standing outside the shotgun’s effective range. He had injured both animals, but their fear-driven adrenaline was enough to power their flight to safety, and now they had regained their full strength. The big tan dog and the smaller-but-swifter, gray-brown mixed breed made a good team, as they hunted and wandered.
They had begun to feel the change in season, as the temperatures slowly dropped day to day. By instinct they knew they would need shelter soon.
Their roaming carried them higher and higher up in the mountains, and the rocky outcroppings became more clustered, some forming good protection from the rain—but nothing enclosed enough to ward off the impending cold.
The younger dog sensed it first: a strange mixture of messenger scents—food, female, two-legged ones—coming from the same direction. He ran ahead of the older dog and approached a large stone ledge. As they moved closer, the scent grew stronger: female. They reached the den opening and found food remnants scattered about.
The older dog felt a stirring within, and for the first time in his life he let out a howl, his ancestral memory taking over. The younger dog watched his pack leader and let out his own, piercing warble. Then, from within the stone cave, came an even higher-pitched, solitary reply.
“Tio Galen, are those more wolves?”
The three children crowded the blind with the bear-sized man.
“No, those are dogs, but from the looks of them, they must be wilding. I bet they ran away from wherever they lived and now roam free. Let’s see what Mrs. Wolf does. The food we’ve been leaving seems to have given her strength, but she’s still listless. She must miss her mate.”
Galen stood mute as the impact of his own words struck him.
Her muzzle twitched, as the male scent hit her olfactory system. No, this was not her mate, and so she felt the tensing of the fight-or-flight reflex building in her muscles. She inched toward the den opening, and then she saw them: two males, sitting there, watching her, not moving. She let out a warning snarl, but they didn’t respond. She moved out farther, tail stiff in the aggressive posture, front legs apart, ready to run or lunge.
Now the big male edged forward, a four-legged chess piece whose movements were choreographed by Nature. She prepared to lunge for his neck when he stopped and sat on his haunches again. She sensed no fear or aggression.
Casting wary eyes on both of the dogs, she sat likewise. Canine Kabuki.
“It looks like Mrs. Wolf is confused by our two Lotharios, kids. If this had been a wolf-to-wolf confrontation, one of them would be lying on the ground, maybe with its throat ripped out.”
Galen felt excited. He thought this might be the beginning of a fascinating interplay of wild-versus-domestic response. Could the female accept the other two? The humans watched the big dog crouch down and inch forward on all fours toward the seated wolf.
Finally their muzzles touched. The female let out a quiet snarl then stopped, as the big dog nuzzled her. She stood up, turned, and calmly moved back into the den. The two dogs followed her.
“It’s working!” Galen exclaimed.
He noticed the three kids were casting wondering looks his way, so he smiled at them.
“Nature always finds a way!”
They did not understand his cryptic reply.
Winter struck with a vengeance. The wind pierced the mountain retreat with banshee shrieks, the tympani of cracking, ice-laden tree limbs a percussive accompaniment. Galen had anticipated the hard winter from the comments in the “Old Farmer’s Almanac,” so he and Edison had made some advance preparations.
Edison was not a naturalist, but he enthusiastically designed remote monitoring units—self-contained and weatherproof audio and visual sensors to transmit data from the territory surrounding the canine den. Nancy, more practical than either of the two men, had stocked a separate freezer with meat byproducts, which the frequent observers would leave near the den in case the three animals were unsuccessful in their daily hunts.
The kids’ contribution was to assist in the observations and sensor placement. They also named their “doggies.” As they shinnied up trees and reached sensor sites inaccessible to the two duffer scientists, Freddie would tease Carmelita by asking her
