Saved from a fur farm as a kitten, Mr.Pinkerton, who is a Lynx, has forever changed many people’s views towards his kind.

This is the story of the final days with Windwalker, who lived at Earthfire Institute Wildlife Sanctuary & Retreat Center.

Windwalker is a cougar who came into what appeared to be a spiritual state of beauty and gentleness as he reached a ripe old age. In his book Alzheimer’s Isn’t What You Think It Is, Elmer Green describes how statements of great spiritual wisdom came through his wife even as Alzheimer’s destroyed her physical brain and left her unable to speak for months. It was as if she were occupying two worlds at once, bringing glimpses from beyond. Perhaps as age weakens the grip of biological forces on the brain, a similar thing happens with all old creatures—humans and animals—allowing a connection with the larger life forces to blossom.

As he neared the end of his days, he became more and more connected to humans and was a powerful force in the retreats. At 13 years of age, the vets said he would soon pass away from from congestive heart failure, but he so wanted to teach about cougars and the possibilities for a better human-wildlife connection, that he stayed, against all odds, for another whole year. He passed away just after finishing the last retreat of 2011, where several people had flown in just to see him one more time.

Thanks to Rose De Dan for footage from her Walk on the Wild Side retreat, in September 2011 and to Chris Ahrens and Adam Lamar for their original music.

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. . .

A special tribute to our very missed friend Major Bear.

Sweet and Wise Windwalker

Dear Friends

A Long Tail from Earthfire

I had the sadness but much pleasure to spend the last few hours with our friend. He left with happiness and hope for his kind, our own and all species, for all living spirits past present, worthy and still unworthy for what the mother has given, given and still offered to us, to our future and our legacy … He left us strong and with something we can only wish for, but attainable to us all.

He left me last night purring till his last breath with trust, thanks to you all and what you offered for this place we call ours.  This Earth, this heart that pulses for us, that earthly rumbles that beats to our own heart, that feeds us, houses us and clothes us, a gift, a synonym to our wishes, the possibilities in his the purr, the word and the spirit of Windwalker and “His Fire” left with I, and shared with you, chanting with him as I hugged him far well, meeting each purr, joining his love, his healing whirr, vibrating my senses to his song, his powerful smell mixed to my own, his love and my memories, his gifts as a present to us, as I caressed his fur as one for us all, till his last breath, till his last gasp.

Windwalker & Jean

As to not forget and to savor his moment and the time he wished to give, and to nourish us all with his message …

Thank you, aya-ya…

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!

Sage the Fox

So many of you have responded, with caring input, to our request for suggestions for naming our sweet new fox. We were so impressed with the thoughtfulness; depth; intelligence and heart of your responses.

It was a long decision process. There were many wonderful, evocative choices…Elu, Estonian for life; Aditi, meaning boundless in Sanskrit; Kekoa, “ the brave one” in Hawaiian; Starlight; Sage; Sky; Onatah “ of the earth” in Iroquois (that was a close one); Onida – “the one searched for.” We will keep your suggestions for possible future use but still, they warmed our hearts.

Our first reaction was that we liked Sky, as many of you did. However we already have a human member of our interspecies family here called Skye; a fine representative of her species, (officially our media assistant but oh so much more). It certainly wouldn’t do to have two Sky’s. Elu and Onatah also felt like they fit well but in the end it was Sage, with all its meanings, that sat with him best. It just felt right. Simple. Full of wisdom. Blending into the environment here, where we are blessed with fields of sage lending it’s lovely soft color and scent to the land around us; sage, a sacred plant used for clearing negative energy so our beauty and innate wisdom can be brought forth. And so it is Sage.

We loved you responsiveness and will ask for your help again for the next animal that may need a name. Thank you!!!!!

Earthfire Institute’s specially-abled grizzly bear, Humble Bumble, soothes himself by sucking on his paw while humming to himself. In this video you hear the sweet sounds as he reassures himself in a world that is scary to him.