No one knows any wolf’s intentions. Perhaps this one was just traveling about for fun. Or, callings from the pack spurred him into different directions.
And now during a hunting trip for bear in northern Quebec, I felt the back hairs of my neck raise. I sensed something watching me intently. My friend and I were way off the beaten path on a lumber road, since we enjoyed the solitude it brought us.
I was alone on this one section; Steve had taken the other fork.
Turning nervously, I looked into the piercing eyes of a huge, black-grey wolf. It had a massive head and awesome snowshoe-like feet. It was about 175 pounds and stood looking me straight on, about ten feet away.
I wasn’t afraid, but respectful and did not show any aggression even though I held a .303 rifle across my chest. At the time, I was a crack shot and able to safety-off and perhaps fire before he could attack.
I still felt no aggression from this beautiful specimen. He kept looking at me with those feral eyes, more curious to be this close to man. The wolf seemed to understand I had something fearful in my hands, but he too was unafraid.
At first neither of us moved during this wild encounter. Looking me over one last time the animal from the deep forest lifted his tail proudly, as if on parade. Trusting me he turned his back and loped with dainty steps -- like a moose with hooves dipping into chocolate fudge,
And the wolf disappeared into a copse of trembling aspen.
This event was a memory to forever tell.
“I met a wolf on a country
road and was not really
afraid you know even though
there was he and I alone.”