The Wolf Moon Is Calling

Across the Fence #530

I sit quietly listening for the howl that never comes. Only the rushing of the cold north wind can be heard as it weaves its way through the naked branches of the trees. The limbs scrape against each other, creating ghostly sounds. The sky is overcast, blocking out the full moon of January that should make an appearance tonight. Snow has begun to arrive and will soon blanket the ground in a sea of white. It will muffle the howls, if there were any, but, there have been no wolves howling around this area during my lifetime. The wolves are howling someplace tonight, but not around our house. 

This January moon was called the Wolf Moon by the Native Americans who occupied this land before any of my ancestors set foot on it. It was wild, open land, with no fences or property lines to separate people. Trails through the wilderness connected villages and the people who lived in them. They had lived on this land for thousands of years before our ancestors displaced them and took over the land. Along the way we destroyed most of the buffalo and other food sources they had depended on. Another animal that was very important to them was also brought to the edge of extinction, the wolf. 

In the dark, sub-zero days and nights of January, winds and drifting snow made life a constant struggle for survival for the Native Americans and the early settlers. It was also a hard time for the birds and animals. They needed food to survive too. As the hungry wolves prowled the perimeters of their villages searching for food, the Native Americans who were huddled in their winter shelters, could hear the howling of the wolves. Perhaps they could see them sitting on a hilltop, silhouetted against the full moon sky and howling back and forth to each other. It must have been quite a sight and sound to a people who looked upon the wolf as a sacred animal. It seems only natural that they would call it the Wolf Moon. The wolf was revered and sacred among Native Americans, along with the buffalo and eagle. 

Many Native Americans credit the wolves for teaching them about the importance of family, of working together to hunt and gather food, and with protecting the family. Where wolves are revered and honored by Native Americans, they have become demonized and feared in other cultures. From the time we were young children we’ve been conditioned to fear them as the bad guy who is out to hurt us. Think of the stories, “Little Red Riding Hood” and “The Three Little Pigs.” Who’s the villain in those early childhood stories? The wolf, of course.

There’s a quote by Chief Dan George that I like. It can be applied to our interaction with animals or people. “If you talk to the animals they will talk to you and you will know each other. If you do not talk to them you will not know them, and what you do not know you will fear. What one fears, one destroys.”

Many years ago, I attended a veteran’s pow-wow in Hayward with a good friend who lived close to us in Madison. He was a member of the Lac Courte Oreilles Band of Lake Superior Chippewa. During the pow wow, they gave me an honorary Indian name, Lone Wolf, and a small eagle feather. Only Native American warrior veterans are allowed to possess and wear full size eagle feathers. I considered it a real honor to be given the name Lone Wolf. He said they had discussed it, and thought the name best fit my personality. I won’t bore you with their explanation, but if you really want to know, ask me sometime. After that, he always introduced me when we met people, including other Native Americans, as his brother, Ole (because I have Norwegian heritage). No one ever questioned whether I was a Native American. It probably helps that I have a dark complexion. Although a couple people looked at me with a quizzical look and said, “Ole… that’s a strange name for an Indian!”

See all the strange thoughts that come out of hiding during the full Wolf Moon of January. It’s mighty cold out there, just like the January’s of long ago when wolves still roamed the Coon Prairie. They’re all gone from around here, as far as I know. The only howling I’ll hear are echoes from the long-ago past. Maybe just for old time’s sake, I’ll raise my voice and howl at the full Wolf Moon. We’ll see if anyone answers. 

The last time I took the side of the wolf in a column, I received some interesting feedback. One anonymous individual wrote, “The only good wolf is a dead wolf.” Another wrote, “I hope the last sound you hear is the howl of a wolf before it kills you.” I thought that was a bit harsh, but people are very passionate when it comes to the subject of wolves. I imagine I’ll receive a bunch of negative comments again this time, but that’s all right, Brother Wolf and Ole, the old Lone Wolf, can take it.

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