nature perspective series: wolf

We often view history from a purely human perspective, forgetting that the events that shape our story do not happen in a vacuum. In this series, I explore the often forgotten perspective of nature during major historic events. Here, we get a small glimpse into the quiet, pained view of the spirits of nature in the North American landscape as it witnesses the transition from Indigenous communities, through colonialism, and into present day.

We roam the landscape and help keep the balance between life and death. For thousands of years we traveled in bonded packs that fiercely protected each other, for a lone wolf will die but the pack will survive. We gracefully traversed the wide-open expanse of land, enjoying limitless freedom to range as far as our legs could carry us. At night the symphony of our collective calls would carry through woods, valleys and hills, echoing for all to hear. Our power was in our ability to cooperate and only take what we needed for our survival that maintained a balance, and there once was plenty to go around. Ancient men respected us as we evolved side-by-side and lived among them because they recognized that our power and strength was not competition, but a necessity of a healthy web of life that we were a major part of.

Until the day when white men started to sweep across our lands, all of a sudden our howls and teeth began to be mistook for demonic intentions and our hunger appeared insatiable. It ended up being their hunger that was insatiable, for the blood we spilled could never match the amount they took in pursuing us relentlessly. One by one, our packs thinned, our families being chased down and brutalized. They claimed to be holy men, but the tortures they inflicted on my kin was an evilness unmatched by any other before them. Their avid use of poisons would wipe out whole packs after luring us in with bison kills that turned into devastating scenes of agony and pain as we tried to limp away. The few strong ones left tried to elude their bloodlust, but a lone wolf without its pack could not outrun them forever. Soon enough our howls no longer filled the night air but was replaced with a landscape of deafening silence filled with the ghosts of my fallen kin. It was only after we were dwindled down to but a few that man became remorseful and our role in the balance of nature became realized. The veil had been lifted from their eyes and they started to recognize our long-connected history could coexist again with theirs. They still look at us with uncertainty, but for now our howls are heavy in the night air once again.

nature perspective series: soil