The Loop (27 page)

They parked at the edge of a clearcut and got out to fix their packs in the bed of the pickup. Across the clearcut, two loggers from the post and pole company were leaning against a half-loaded trailer, having a smoke. Luke didn’t know either of them. Helen waved and called hi, but they only nodded and went on smoking and staring without so much as a smile.

Helen busied herself with her pack, carrying on a mock conversation with the loggers which only Luke could hear.

‘“Well, hi there, Helen! How’re you doing? Caught any wolves? Really? That’s terrific! Well, thanks. You too. Bye!”’

‘Have you seen them b-before?’ Luke asked quietly.

‘Sure, they nearly drove me off the road a couple of times.’ She fastened her pack and grinned as she swung it onto her back. ‘Did you see the nod? Small, but definitely a nod. You wait, soon we’ll be best buddies. Inside every logger, Luke, there’s a tree-hugger waiting to get out.’

‘You think so?’

‘Nope.’

They left Buzz in the pickup and set off up the creek.

 

Even before she had heard the signal, Helen was pretty sure that they had caught one. The dream had never yet lied.

She had never dared tell anyone about it. It sounded too preposterous. And anyway, being a woman in the macho world of wolf research was hard enough without everyone thinking you’d gone
woo-woo
, the term her mother used to scorn everything from astrology to vitamin pills. And in truth, although Helen didn’t doubt there were more things in heaven and earth than could be seen with the aid of a microscope, on the
woo-woo
scale she was definitely at the skeptical end.

Except, that is, for her wolf dreams.

They had started in Minnesota, shortly after she first learned to trap. The dream was always different. Sometimes it would be almost literal: she would actually see a wolf caught in a trap, waiting for her. At other times it was more oblique, seemingly about something else entirely. All she would get was a
feeling
of wolf, not even a glimpse or a shadow, just the sense that one was present. It wasn’t that she had the dream every time she caught a wolf. She could be trapping for months on end, catching lots, and never have it once. It was that whenever she did have it, the next morning, without fail, there was a wolf waiting for her.

And as if that wasn’t
woo-woo
enough, she would often wake knowing precisely which trap she would find it in. Sometimes she would see the actual location and at other times it was more symbolic and all she would get was a clue. She might see trees perhaps, or rocks or water, and from that deduce which trap it was. This part of the dream wasn’t foolproof. Sometimes the wolf would be in a different trap altogether. But such was her trust in her wolf dreams, that when that happened, she didn’t assume the dream was wrong, only that she had misread the message.

The scientist in Helen rapped her knuckles for indulging such nonsense. She tried to persuade herself that it was simply a case of autosuggestion or some other trick of the brain, a sort of dreaming equivalent of déjà-vu. For a whole summer, when she’d been working with Dan Prior, she had secretly kept notes of the dreams and checked them against their trapping figures. The correlation was undeniable. But she could never quite summon the courage to tell Dan.

Yet here she now was, confiding it to Luke, whom she hardly knew.

They were making their way up beside the last tumbling stretch of creek before the land leveled into the meadow where the trap was and she didn’t know why she was telling him except that there was something about him she trusted. She was sure he wouldn’t laugh.

He walked at her side, looking at her now and then with his serious green eyes as he listened, but mainly watching where he placed his feet, for the ground was treacherous. She had told him almost the whole story and he hadn’t yet said a word and even though she thought it unlikely that he would mock her, she heard herself switching on the old defense-mechanism and making light of it, just in case.

‘It’s a real pain, you know? I’ve tried dreaming about lottery numbers and racehorses, but it never works.’

Luke smiled.

‘So w-what exactly did you dream last n-night?’

‘Just of a wolf, wading across a stream.’ Which was true, but not wholly true because the wolf, in that curious duality permitted by dreams, had also actually been Joel and had walked away from her to the other bank without once looking back and vanished into the trees.

‘He wasn’t in the trap then?’

‘No. The one that got away.’

Helen waited for him to say something, but he just nodded and looked down into the creek where the water roared through a gateway of rock and gushed in thirty feet of foam to a churning cauldron of a pool below.

‘So, do you think I’m nuts?’ she said at last.

‘Of course not. I have some pretty w-w-weird dreams too.’

‘Yeah, but do they come true?’

‘Only the bad ones.’

‘Do you dream of wolves?’

‘Sometimes.’

The roar of the water was too loud for them to go on talking and they didn’t speak again until they stopped in the trees at the edge of the meadow. The grass up here was still almost green. They stared across it toward the thicket of willow scrub where the trap was, but the only sign of life was a pair of ravens flapping languidly over what was left of the moose.

‘Would there still be a signal, even if he’s g-gotten free?’

‘Could be.’

They set out across the meadow and as they drew near to the trail that ran beside the willow thicket, Helen could see the hole where the trap had been torn from the ground. When they got there they found a long furrow carved by the hook of the drag as the wolf had headed for cover. But although it told them roughly where now he must be, still there was no sound or movement.

For a moment she thought maybe Luke was right and the wolf had managed to get free. Then she heard the clink of the drag chain and knew they had him. He was somewhere in the willows, maybe thirty feet from where they were standing.

Helen whispered to Luke to stay where he was, that she needed to check things out, then slowly followed the drag mark toward the thicket.

She had already explained to him how you always needed to see how good a grip the trap had found on a wolf’s leg and how firmly the drag was anchored. This didn’t matter so much if you’d caught a pup, a yearling or a low-ranking adult; they usually lay submissively, not even daring to look you in the eye. But if you’d trapped an alpha you had to be careful. They could come right at you and given half a chance would get their teeth into you. Knowing how securely they were snagged and how far they could reach was crucial.

Now, up ahead, Helen again heard the clink of the chain and this time the bushes rustled, shedding a flutter of yellow leaves behind which she saw a flash of pale fur. Luke had told her that the alpha female was almost white and Helen’s heart leapt at the thought that this was who they’d caught.

She turned to Luke and mouthed, ‘I think it’s Mom.’

She was now at the very edge of the thicket and could see the mark the drag had carved as the wolf went in. Helen stopped there, listening and peering through the tangled stems of the willow. She guessed that the wolf could only be five or six feet away but there was no sign of her. Everything had gone still. All she could hear was the trickle of the creek and from across the meadow, the mocking, staccato croak of a raven.

Slowly she lifted her foot, thinking maybe if she took a step into the thicket she might see her. It was as if the thought itself sufficed, for hardly had she moved, when the bush in front of her erupted.

Suddenly, there was the wolf’s head, all snarling teeth and pink gums and yellow eyes, lunging at her through the branches. It gave Helen such a shock that she jumped away, lost her footing and fell flat on her back in the meadow. But she didn’t take her eyes off the wolf and saw the head jerk and disappear as the drag hooks held fast. She looked up and saw Luke’s grinning face.

‘I think it
is
Mom,’ he said.

‘That’s standard practice, by the way. Always fall over. It makes them feel at ease.’

Luke laughed and helped her to her feet. He pointed to a slab of rock a little way along the thicket.

‘Maybe we could see better from there.’

He was right. It was where she should have gone in the first place.

‘Okay. Smarty-pants.’

They waded through the willow scrub toward it, giving the wolf as wide a berth as they could. The rock had sheer sides with no low footholes. Luke climbed up first and then reached down and hoisted her up beside him. She had to hold on to his shoulder to keep her balance and the two of them perched there precariously on the narrow spine of the rock, peering over the thicket.

The wolf was looking right at them, about twenty feet away, curling her lips and growling. She was the color of a rainless cloud, shaded faintly along her back and shoulders with gray.

‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ Luke whispered.

‘She is.’

Helen could see the trap jaws clamped on the wolf’s front left foot. The hooks of the drag had dug themselves into a thick clump of roots and in her struggle, the wolf had wrapped the chain twice around it.

‘She’s not going anywhere in a hurry,’ Helen said. ‘Looks like it’s best to come at her from the far side there.’

They jumped down and went back to the packs where they’d dumped them in the meadow and Helen took out her jabstick and loaded the syringe with the right amount of Telezol. Then they circled around the wolf and walked slowly through the thicket toward her from the far side, Helen leading the way.

She could hear growling as they came near and when they parted the last shield of bushes and saw her, she tried to make another lunge at them. But the chain held fast. The wolf snarled and lowered herself slowly to the ground.

‘Hi, Mom,’ Helen said gently. ‘Hey, aren’t you gorgeous?’ She was in prime condition, her coat lustrous and almost fully thickened for the coming winter. Helen figured she was maybe three to four years old and must weigh almost eighty pounds. Her eyes glinted a pale, greenish yellow in the sunlight.

‘It’s okay, baby,’ Helen cooed. ‘It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. Just going to give you a little snooze.’

In the same soft voice, she asked Luke to walk slowly around to the other side and, just as she’d hoped, the wolf was suspicious and turned, struggling with the weight of the trap, to keep her eyes on him. It gave Helen her chance. She reached out and, like a matador, plunged the jabstick into the wolf’s rear end.

As soon as the needle touched her fur, the wolf snarled and whipped around with her jaws. But Helen was ready and kept the jabstick pressed home until the syringe had safely delivered its shot. Then she and Luke moved away and watched from a distance while the wolf’s eyes grew bleary and her limbs slackened until at last she slumped like a drunk in a doorway.

Half an hour later, they were almost done. They’d blindfolded her, weighed her, measured her, taken blood and feces samples and checked her all over from teeth to tail. She was free of lice and seemed in perfect health. The trap had made a small flesh wound on her leg but there were no bones broken. Helen smeared it with some antibiotic ointment and gave her a shot for good measure. All they had to do now was clip an identity tag to her ear and fit her with a radio collar.

Luke was kneeling beside her, running a hand along the wolf’s silvery side. He had been a great assistant, taking notes and marking the samples for her and passing anything she needed from the folding tiers of the kit-box in which she kept her field processing stuff.

Helen sat back on her heels and watched him. He was totally absorbed in stroking the wolf and his eyes were so gentle and full of such innocent wonder that Helen wanted to reach out and stroke him too.

Instead, she said, ‘Isn’t her coat amazing? The different layers?’

‘Yeah. And the colors. From a d-distance, she just looks white. But up close there’s all these other colors. Browns and blacks, even a t-tinge of red.’

He looked at her and smiled and Helen smiled back and again felt something connect between them, though quite what it was, she would have then been unable to say. It was she who broke the moment and looked down at the wolf.

‘This old girl’s going to be waking up soon.’

She clipped the ear tag on and made a note of the number. Then she slipped the collar over the wolf’s neck, making sure it was neither too loose nor too tight and that the signal still worked. Helen then removed the blindfold, took some photographs and by the time they had packed up all the gear, the wolf was starting to stir.

‘Let’s go,’ Helen said. ‘It’s best to give her some space.’

Luke was standing by the wolf, staring down at her. She thought perhaps he hadn’t heard.

‘Luke?’

He turned and nodded and she saw sadness in his eyes.

‘Is something the matter?’

‘No.’

‘The collar could save her life, you know.’

He gave a little shrug. ‘Maybe.’

They moved the wolf out of the thicket and laid her beside the trail near to where she had been trapped. Then they shouldered the packs and set off across the meadow. A coyote was chasing the ravens away from the moose carcass down beside the creek. It stopped when it saw Luke and Helen, then loped moodily off into the scrub.

From the trees on the other side of the meadow, they watched the wolf get groggily to her feet. She took a few faltering steps, then stopped and lowered her head to lick her front paw. Then she lifted her nose and delicately sniffed the air and caught their scent. She turned and stared right at them. Helen gave her a little wave.

‘See ya, Mom.’

Then, with all the disdain of a slighted movie star, the wolf turned her back, flounced her tail and trotted away up the canyon.