Where the wild things are
Posted: 20 May 2010
After spectacularly failing to spot any decent beaver (fnar), we head out of the wetlands and back into the monstrous forest. At some unspecified point we pause to take a breath and noticed how utterly silent the forest is. But it's not the silence of absence, more the silence of lots of things being very, very quiet. Which is actually more disturbing.
And then I see it. A wolf.
A low, four-legged shape, moving quickly through the trees, towards us. In my peripheral vision, another. Rangy, slinking through the muted shades of the forest. I count seven, eight wolves, all moving rapidly in our direction, including a stumpy ginger one with floppy ears. Which, not meaning to be gingerist, doesn't fit the usual wolf template. As the wolves come closer, it becomes clear that these are not lupine, but canine. A pack of dogs including, among the scary half-fed mongrels, a small, spastically excited ginger spaniel.