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.
assure herself that they were not responsible, she cocked a speculative eye at the cloudless sky above. It held no solution to the mystery. Thoroughly aroused now, she began trying to track down the sounds. This was no easy task, for there is a pronounced ventriloquial effect to abdominal noises in general and to mine in particular. After walking up and down the ravine twice, Angeline seemed no closer to satisfying her mounting curiosity. I was undecided whether to attempt a retreat or whether
and solitude of the country, for the caribou were always with us. Together with their attendant flocks of herring gulls and ravens, they imparted a sense of animation to what might otherwise have seemed a stark enough landscape. This country belonged to the deer, the wolves, the birds and the smaller beasts. We two were no more than casual and insignificant intruders. Man had never dominated the Barrens. Even the Eskimos, whose territory it had once been, had lived in harmony with it. Now these
watching in somber fascination as I dissected a particularly pest-ridden old buck. I always tried to explain what I was doing so that he would understand the nature of my studies, and this seemed to be as good a time as any to brief him on the subject of parasitization. Hauling a bladder cyst about the size of a golfball out of the caribou’s liver, I explained that this was the inactive form of a tapeworm, and that, if eaten by a carnivore, it would eventually develop into several segmented
had seen an aircraft. Sure enough, a Norseman plane on floats was lazily circling over the tundra to the west of us. I had long since given up hope that the pilot who had brought me to Wolf House Bay would ever return, and so the sight of this plane sent me into a dither of excitement. Remembering the smoke generators with which I had been supplied, I ran to get them. To my surprise they worked. A mighty coil of black and oily smoke went soaring into the high skies and the Norseman (which had
blood-lust, while no trapper would think of shooting a caribou except under the most severe provocation. One of the working ladies of the settlement added the odd bit of information that since the establishment there of an American Air Base the wolf population had increased out of all bounds, and the only thing to do when bitten by one was to bite him right back. Quite early in my inquiry I was asked by an old trapper if, since I was a wolf enthusiast, I would like some wolf-juice. I said I did