Never Cry Wolf : Amazing True Story of Life Among Arctic Wolves
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Hordes of bloodthirsty wolves are slaughtering the arctic caribou, and the government's Wildlife Service assigns naturalist Farely Mowat to investigate. Mowat is dropped alone onto the frozen tundra, where he begins his mission to live among the howling wolf packs and study their waves. Contact with his quarry comes quickly, and Mowat discovers not a den of marauding killers but a courageous family of skillful providers and devoted protectors of their young. As Mowat comes closer to the wolf world, he comes to fear with them on onslaught of bounty hunters and government exterminators out to erase the noble wolf community from the Arctic. Never Cry Wolf is one of the brilliant narratives on the myth and magical world of wild wolves and man's true place among the creatures of nature. "We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be -- the mythological epitome of a savage, ruthless killer -- which is, in reality, no more than the reflected image of ourself." -- from the new preface to Never Cry Wolf.
From the Paperback edition.
at odds with the character of the mythical wolf that it was really too ludicrous to consider. And yet, it was the answer to the problem of how my wolves were keeping the larder full. Angeline tipped me off. Late one afternoon, while the male wolves were still resting in preparation for the night’s labors, she emerged from the den and nuzzled Uncle Albert until he yawned, stretched and got laboriously to his feet. Then she left the den site at a trot, heading directly for me across a broad
entered the cabin Mike was frying a panful of venison steak, while Ootek looked on. They had been lucky enough to kill a stray animal some sixty miles to the north. After a somewhat awkward few minutes, during which Mike seemed to be hopefully trying to ignore my existence, I managed to break the ice and achieve an introduction to Ootek, who responded by sidling around to the other side of the table and putting as much distance between us as possible. These two then sat down to their dinner, and
cabins. When I put my problem to him he was roused to exasperation. “Listen, Mac!” he cried. “Only nuts hire planes to go somewhere they don’t know where; and only nuts’d expect a guy to swallow a yarn about goin’ off to keep house with a bunch of wolves. You go find yourself another plane jockey, see? I’m too busy to play games.” As it happened there were no other plane jockeys in the dismal shacktown of Churchill at that time, although, shortly before my arrival, there had been three. One of
REPORT WITHIN TWO WEEKS BY WHICH TIME IT IS ANTICIPATED YOU SHOULD HAVE ESTABLISHED CLOSE CONTACT WITH CANIS LUPUS STOP RADIO MESSAGES AT DEPARTMENTAL EXPENSE SHOULD BE RESTRICTED TO TEN WORDS AND IMPORTANT MATTERS ONLY AND KEPT AS BRIEF AS POSSIBLE STOP WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE ONLY HALF A CANOE STOP THE COST OF YOUR RADIOGRAM IS BEING DEBITED AGAINST YOUR SALARY CHIEF PREDATION CONTROL DIVISION There was clearly nothing for it but to await the problematical return of the pilot who had gone
Transport, which licenses such mobile transmitters as mine, my call sign was “Daisy Mae.” For the next hour Daisy Mae cried plaintively into the darkling subarctic skies, but without raising a whisper of a reply. I was almost ready to accept the pessimistic statement in the manual and give up the attempt as hopeless when I caught the faint echo of a human voice above the whistle and rustle of static in the earphones. Hastily I tuned the set until I could make out a gabble of words which it took