We brought Wamaka the wolf into our heated cabin to protect him from the bitter cold. We didn’t know how Talkeetna the malamute (aka Wombat) would respond. This was HER cabin, and she doesn’t like other animals. We put Wamaka in a pen & brought her in on a leash. She stood stock still in shock. Pretended he wasn’t there. Then started to sneak little looks from the corner of her eye. We must say that Wamaka is a huge gorgeous wolf, w/ regal presence, masculine, w/ melting green eyes. To our amazement it wasn’t long before she was flirting outrageously, rubbing sensuously up against the pen, & giving little pink licks w/ her tongue. And he, in turn lost all dignity, bowed down on his long front legs butt in the air in an invitation to play, & with glazed eyes turned into a besotted wolf. She apparently was feminine perfection. . .

Every winter Wamaka the wolf loses the hair on his back end, loses weight and goes into depression. We just can’t leave him out in the below zero cold half naked and sad.  He has to come in to the cabin for warmth, love and light. But we have learned from  bitter bitter bitter experience and the cost of thousands of vet dollars that if Cucumber the wolf doesn’t come into the cabin every morning for love and treats and a dollop (small but it’s the principle) of organic heavy cream  she starts to fade, droop, lose weight, go into dramatic physical decline. She used to be very clear and assertive about her annoyance when we left her out, but she is now 14 and her response is drooped patheticness. A beaten-down displaced wolf. We have learned, and paid for, the consequences. . .

Our “infirmary,” especially in winter, is our cabin living room area 15×18 feet in which we have Jean’s desk, my desk, bookshelves, a couch, a dining room table, a wood burning stove, two dogs, ferns, orchids and barely enough room in which to turn around. Cucumber has to come in every morning – no option. It’s too expensive in vet bills and psychic toll otherwise. Wamaka has to come in. But Wamaka is a very big and somewhat rambunctious wolf and, from past experience, known for leaping on desks and table tops as if he is made only of air and huge paws, and the computers, papers and plants don’t do well.  Part of the cabin concrete floor is still pink from where he spilled paint last time.  Also, this is Cucumber’s special, high status lair and she doesn’t tolerate anyone else. So we brought in an oversized portable cage for Wamaka to protect him from Cucumber (1/3 his size but she is fierce) and the cabin from Wamaka. We made it into a cozy nest for him.

Our mornings consist of putting Talkeenta the malamute out in the Wildlife Garden (she is a runaway and can’t be let loose), because Cucumber sees her as competition and wants to do her in.  Because Wamaka has a jaw deformity and can’t eat easily he gets crazy around food. So we put Wamaka out in the enclosure back of the cabin with a treat, and prepare Cucumber’s special breakfast: high quality dog food (she can’t digest raw meat any more) mixed with Joint Aid, protein powder, digestive enzymes and salmon oil, and bring her in. Or rather we let her out of her enclosure and she races to the cabin, slams open the door and is into her breakfast so fast you see only a blur. Jean and I have a standing joke: “Did you see a wolf come in?”  “No. Whatever it was it was too fast.”  Or “Oh my god there’s a wolf in the cabin!”

Once she has wolfed down her breakfast, had her cream and been properly greeted and petted, I take her out and distract her while Jean brings Wamaka back in. Once he is safely ensconced in the cage and settled to his satisfaction we bring Cucumber back in to join us in our morning meditation. She insists on it – has for the past two years. She has taken over from where Stardance the wolf started us on our meditations until she passed away two Novembers ago.  All this time Boychuk our German shepherd whom all the animals love is sleeping peacefully on a mound of cushions under the table. His presence is a reassurance to all our animals, from wolf to bear, keeping them calm (er). We can’t leave Wamaka alone in the cabin even in his pen. He would destroy it, tear it apart, and let himself out into the cabin; then start tearing the cabin apart in his attempt to find companionship. So poor Boychuk is sacrificed as babysitter.

Figuring out all these arrangements took a while. At first we didn’t know if Cucumber would attack Wamaka. She wasn’t happy about the intrusion and for several days circled his pen menacingly, stalking, prowling, patrolling, letting him know who was boss, making herself very large on tippy toes. There is only perhaps a foot of space between the table and the pen where she manages to squeeze herself through on her patrol emanating domination from every pore.

It took a few weeks for things to settle down. Eventually the arrangement was accepted – as long as it was very clear that Cucumber was top wolf and #1 special wolf and Wamaka stayed in his pen. After properly dominating Wamaka she eventually settles herself under the table near Boychuk. We have to push the pen with Wamaka in it toward Jean’s desk to make enough room for Jean to sit so we can meditate. When we signal the beginning of the meditation by ringing the Tibetan singing bowl Cucumber gets up and begins to circle us several times, pushes her nose vigorously into Jean’s armpit as she goes around, then lays down peacefully under the table, joining Boychuk, her paws or head on his paws in loving companionship.

Finally, things settle down. Wamaka curls comfortably in his pen. A deep peace reigns. There is a sense of enjoyment from all the living beings around us including us. We invite in all the spirits of the animals and trees and land around us.

We signal the end of the meditation with the singing bowl. Cucumber rouses herself, gets up and circles us again several times, pushing her nose again into Jean’s armpit or my lap, giving quick little licks as she passes around us.  This is her ritual- she developed it and does it absolutely without fail. Then she gets her second breakfast, we put her back out, and bring Talkeetna back in.  Another story. . .

So now what? Wamaka is positively delighted with the new arrangement, and has settled in as if it were permanent. If we put him back out we fear he will go into depression. Perhaps not as intensely as Cucumber, a highly emotional wolf where it basically turns into a matter of life or death if she comes in or not, but still, if you “promise” in effect, something really important and then take away it can have a major impact. On humans too.  And now Uintah, Cucumber’s companion, howls mournfully, longingly, aching, when Cucumber comes in and leaves him alone. He needs special attention too, after nearly having died as well. How do we manage three wolves?  Or five wolves?

By now it is usually 8:30 in the morning and we need to start the day. . .

Uintah in the Wildlife Garden. (C) Earthfire

 We were never able to handle Uintah. We couldn’t overcome the hard wiring of fear of humans. Some wolves have it more than others.

 He was afraid.  He was afraid of humans; afraid of being touched; afraid of any fast movement, especially afraid of having a leash put on him, and despite all our efforts he remained that way. We asked an animal communicator if perhaps she could find a way to connect with him. She said he got a glimmering that humans might be a source of companionship – that had never occurred to him before. But whether that glimmer was too brief; or that through the unhappy reality of not having enough time to take advantage of that brief opening, I don’t know, but between his reasons and ours there was no change in his behavior.

 This went on for several unsatisfactory years. He lived with Cucumber, that determined self-transformed little wolf with a huge spirit. We hoped that her change from fearful, to outgoing (for a wolf) would influence him. It didn’t but he loved her and howled for her whenever she came in the house (her personally earned right, from her perspective). The only other connection that lonely wolf had was Boychuk, our German Shepherd, whom he adored. But Boychuk wasn’t actually that interested in Uintah. Seeing him trying to get Boychuk to come visit always made me sad.

 Then one evening Jean called me …Uintah seemed to be colicking. His belly was swollen and he was obviously in severe distress. Colic is a veterinary emergency in any animal. You have only a few hours before it is fatal. How to get him into a crate and drive the 16 miles to Jane, the vet on emergency call? With the help of Boychuk we managed.

Uintah, fresh from the emergency vet visit and into the office. (c) Earthfire.

 We were at the vet late into the night as Jane tried to diagnose him without success. She called in a sonogram specialist to help. The specialist kept saying “I’ve never seen anything like this,” until I thought I would scream. His stomach was so distended that it squeezed all the surrounding organs against his ribs, blocking off blood flow to his heart and brain. He began to have violent seizures. Jane finally passed a tube down his throat and instead of gas, out came pints and pints of liquid. That relieved the pressure and later that night we were able to bring him home, though with no answers as to what was caused the problem or if it would happen again.

 Because he was so ill we wanted to keep him warm. Our cabin was currently occupied by a shy coyote with a broken leg so the only other option was the office. He entered without much fuss. He was exhausted and the medication against the seizures made him pretty out of it. Boychuk helped babysit him through the night, keeping him calm.

Uintah beginning to relax in the office. (c) Earthfire

 In the morning, I called my staff to warn them that there would be a wolf in the office. It was Marie’s first day of work and I felt it only fair to tell her she didn’t have to come in. Then we then brought in Cucumber to help ease him. His whole limited world was now with him – Cucumber and Boychuk. We hoped their being totally relaxed would give him a point of reference about the danger level. 

 Marie arrived at 9 am, slowly opened the door, went to the desk and quietly started to work. As the morning progressed and Uintah began to feel better, to our utter surprise, he started to tentatively explore the office, with what I can best describe as the feel of a kid in a candy store. His life had been so circumscribed because of his fear that he had been exposed to very little. He explored with a combination of curiosity, fascination with this new world, and caution. He accepted the presence of Marie. When I finally thought about a camera I was able to get a little of his reaction on film. You can see the sense of dawning aliveness.

 Something had shifted in him. Perhaps the original message from years ago along with the fact that when he was most vulnerable and helpless we were there for him and he was safe. All I can say is that there was a dramatic shift. Though skittish about it, he actually allowed me to stroke him all over. He clearly enjoyed the contact, though it was a bit much for him and it could only be a few moments at a time.  But it was astonishing.

Jill's first moments with the reluctantly reluctant Uintah. (c) Earthfire

 The next evening I had dinner with Jill, the energy healer who had helped Apricot, a wolf with neurological symptoms from having had distemper in her brain. I mentioned the puzzle of Uintah. Jill’s specialty is paralyzed human nervous systems, and her immediate reaction was “it’s the vagus nerve.” She explained that the nerve ennervates the stomach muscles, making them contract. She guessed that for some reason it had apparently stopped sending signals to the stomach, thus it stopped moving and that might be one reason it filled with fluid. She also said that the vagus nerve runs from the brain through the heart to the digestion and in her understanding, is associated with the emotion of feeling connected and cared for.

 Because western medicine could give no cause, we didn’t know if or when it could happen again. I asked Jill if she would work on him from her alternative healing framework.

 She entered the enclosure with Jean. Cucumber and Boychuk were in there to calm him and Jean did the magic thing he somehow does whenever he takes an animal to the vet -  he goes into a state where his presence reassures them.

Uintah finally giving in to Jill's healing touch. (c) Earthfire

 Gradually, Uintah accepted Jill’s hands on him. Slowly, slowly, he began to relax as she gently sent information to calm and connect up the nerve with the stomach, and from her point of view, address the emotional lack of connection as well. He was sitting on top of his box bolt upright as she worked. You could see him fighting the relaxation as his self preservation instincts kicked in – he would not let himself lie down. But you could see also see the relaxation taking him over more and more deeply. Any of you who have had energy work and suddenly startle awake as if not knowing where you were going and coming back for momentary reassurance that you are still embodied, can understand what we saw as he would relax, then jerk awake, relax, then jerk awake. But Jill kept patiently at it and gradually he succumbed to a deep trance. While still sitting! Survival runs deep in a wolf.

 For 45 minutes Jill worked on him, moving her hands around his head, neck and stomach as she felt the flow, he allowing her to move her hands wherever they needed to go, obviously enjoying it. It was stunning.

Part Two: So far Uintah’s stomach has been working well and he is alive and vibrant, thriving on the extra care. The next step in his amazing transformation came when we held a retreat the following weekend. But that is another story. Stay tuned!

Cucumber was wilted.

It was different this time. After her two near-death experiences during which she worked her way into becoming a House Wolf, she thrived on her special status. When her status became threatened because another sick animal required special care and occupied our tiny living room, she learned how to manipulate us through pretend near-death experiences. But now she is older –going on her 14th year, and the wilting felt different. As if she were defeated.

The cause of the problem was two-fold. First Firefly, a tiny little black fox-rescue from a fur farm ousted her because she needed intensive care, but we could at least move her out each day so Cucumber could come and visit and be loved – though she was only too well aware of the enraptured attention that the charming Firefly was receiving. But then came a traumatized little coyote pup. Though Jean could, with great care pet him and play with him, any attempt at “capture” by picking him up or putting him in a carry cage was out of the question if we ever wanted to have a relationship with him. So, he roamed free in the living room until we could build an outdoor enclosure for him. And that was that. Cucumber was relegated to being outside and she didn’t take it well.

Retreat host, Polly Klein, giving Cucumber Reiki. Copyright Earthfire Institute.

If you casually looked at her you would be tempted to say she was just very old. But, if so, it was a sudden aging. She just drooped. She lost weight.  She hobbled. She was listless.

We called the vet, Summer, who knew her well inside and out, having done the two surgeries and helped shepherd her through to health again. Summer could find nothing wrong. She did blood tests. They looked like those of a healthy young wolf.

We didn’t know what to do. It was as if the fight had gone out of her. All those years of being born a runt and being a half-sized wolf in a world of fierce competition; finding a way to dominate wolves much larger than she; of leaping off waterfalls when no other wolf dared; of working herself into the house and then, when ousted, getting back in through pretend near-death experiences, had sapped her energy. She just couldn’t do it any more.

This time it felt real. She didn’t have as much fight, There was no (well, little) attempt at manipulation. I thought she was in the process of dying. Jean brought her down to meet a retreat group to give her a last chance to shine and communicate what she was so good at. They looked at the hanging head, drooping tail, with concern and pity. She stood there passively as they tried to help her with healing hands and therapeutic touch.

After a month of this, she looked so bad we called Summer in again, asking her to check if there was anything at all we could do – perhaps her previous intestinal surgeries were causing her trouble? More tests, examinations, x rays – all looked fine.

Cucumber receiving her morning love from Jean. Copyright Earthfire Institute.

So, though it was a poor substitute, I had an idea. I started to bring her in to the office cabin early every morning before working hours for special hand-prepared breakfast treats, and loving from Jean and myself. It wasn’t the house. The ugly coyote has not been ousted and she wasn’t total queen anymore. But at least she rated special, personal attention and connection. 

I am happy to report that she is recovering. It hasn’t been instant like during the “near-death” times when she recovered overnight once she was back in the house. She has not bounced back to her full self. Age and many battles do take their toll and it has been different this time. The wilting was real. She had been devastated. But there is light in her eyes once again, and there is a bit of spring in her step when she walks to the office, or sees her arch enemy, my malamute Talkeetna.

It seems we have no more leeway. Regardless of other distractions and responsibilities to other animals, she needs her special attention for the rest of her life, with no further abandonments or disappointments. We will have to be very very careful of her feelings now. Fortunately, taking care of her is a privilege and delight, and what she gives back is beyond measure.

Midnight Journey is a big and extra-intense, extra high energy wolf; rangy, long legged and active. His emotions are filtered through a strong masculinity and dignity – he does not wear them on his sleeve, entirely unlike that passionate little wolf Cucumber for example. He is go go go go go go go, looking about, looking for food; restless unless he is moving, searching . . . exploring. He is so handsome that he was selected to be in a photo shoot. We are glad for these opportunities as they help feed the animals.

The set up took forever from our point of view and even longer from Midnight’s. Wolves are not the most patient beings and he was pacing back and forth in frustration as Chimayo, the other excellent wolf on the shoot, was getting treats, a lot of them, and he saw Ev-er-y- One – Of – Them. To ease him I started to massage him … inside his ear, back of his ears, back of his neck, down his spine to his hips and lower back and then up again, feeling each vertebrae as I went, taking my time to dig in just so, feeling where there was tension and just enjoying his wolfness. That big restless wolf with enormous pent-up energy, with strangers doing strange things with lights and cables and things and another wolf getting treats…. this wolf suddenly stood still, got an inner look in his eyes, quieted, then melted into the massage. Just melted. He turned his head just like a dog does when you get the best spot on his rump, communicating to me through his body just where to stay longer. Go deeper. For 15 minutes I massaged him and for 15 minutes he stayed stock still, melting against me, receiving the sensations. It wasn’t just the massage he was enjoying – he was sucking in the attention. As I mentioned, he does not wear his heart on his sleeve, but in his own dignified removed masculine way he accepted and (dare I say) loved it.

I like working with photo crews because it is an opportunity to show people who often know nothing about wolves, something beyond the clichés. The wolves do the teaching, by who they are and their unexpected sweetness and responsiveness, their usual state when they feel safe. One of the crew looked over wonderingly and said  “He is really enjoying that!” A wolf, enjoying, accepting, a massage from a human … allowing it to calm and reassure him … more effective in changing minds and hearts than lectures about their habits and nature; than the philosophy that they have a right to live; than the fact that they are vital in the ecosystem, important and true though all those are. If only decision makers could see their unexpected sweetness and responsiveness; their intense enjoyment of life, their fear and vulnerability, their grief … I keep hoping we will reach a tipping point of numbers of people who value them so we can create a more humane policy.

I was invited to dinner the other night and the guests next seated next to me turned out to be a hunting guide. He was a nice man. We were talking about wolves and I described how they rolled over for tummy rubs. He said “really???” in astonishment. Obviously that aspect of wolves had never occurred to him. He just saw them as two dimensional; as fierce predators and rivals for his prey, the elk. I wish he could have been there. It just never occurred to him before that they are living feeling beings. He never had to a opportunity to meet them that way, and it might have changed his mind.

“My 2 1/2 year old daughter Lily has fallen in love with Apricot. We came across a youtube clip of your beautiful wolf on facebook. I was watching the clip and Lily climbed into my lap and watched in silence. From then on she was hooked. She thinks that Apricot is looking at her. She watches the video over and over. She watches your other ones also, but she loves the one she calls,” Fixen Apicot” (she can’t sat her R yet) She has given up Dora the Explorer in the morning for your Apricot. She just watches and then comes up with her own stories.”

“Often when she is playing, she plays with Apricot. Sometimes she calls her name but other times she just smacks her lips like shes calling a dog, and pats her leg “lets go honey”, she says. My little Lily has found a very dear connection to Apricot. One I hope will keep her close to the wonders of this earth as she grows. Thank you so much for sharing what you do. Through people and animals and the work you do maybe more people will stand up and take notice. I believe your connection with animals and the earth are the only way we can wake up and heal this planet. I hope that one day My Lily can meet Your Apricot.”