Narah is a Scottish word meaning queen of the wolves. I don’t know the male wolf’s equivalent wordage. With that in mind they were most certainly afoot in our woods last night. The trail of teeth does not allow for the sex of the wolves, nor do the tracks, just the carnage left behind.
Tracks, abundant, very easy to follow, at least five wolves, they strode one after another for a bit, then started open ranging for quite a distance in the ash swamp and in the distance, it’s a violent shocker. We spook three ravens.
There is deer hair spread all over 80 paces on snowshoes. Blood splattered stains almost decorate the snow, if it weren’t blood, you’d think someone had a grand ole time just strewing it about, like a kid would rinse a paint brush. A lone deer’s hooves, two of them, almost placed, or arranged by the skulls remains, the entire nose, gone, it was a doe.
A very gnawed on rib cage, rough white sinews of fibers still cling, garish apart form the form of a live deer to be sure. Not a scrap of deer leather to be seen. A wolf ate there, another there. I wonder about the struggle. The chase, if any. Was it a sickly deer?
Was this doe alone? How tasty is a deer snoz or deer ears? Where is so much of the deer’s actual hide? Did they eat it, carry it off? It’s not visible. Did other deer suffer the same outcome or are we to only find this one?
The only thing we know for certain, is the ending.
- The Trout Whisperer
