Winter Wolf Pack

The potency of social bounds for survival in winter.

Some part of me tracks them even when I am asleep. I’m awake now, but before I open my eyes, I reach for them with my senses. Sight isn’t very useful at this time. I know the state of them mostly by smell. For now, they smell earthy and a little sweet; no sourness or sharp pungency to send alarm bells racing through my blood.

The forest is a vault around us, the earth a hollow that holds our heat. Pines and spruce, the only remaining green, brush my cheek when I lift my nose to the air. I listen for the heavy, slack-jaw breathing that comes when our bodies are slumped together. Then I feel, more than hear, the steady pulsing of six hearts.

I check each of them, gliding my cheek past each cheek, taking in each one’s scent. Once I know they are all in deep dream-space, I begin my slow walk around our huddle, tending our territory and mapping the forest floor. 

It is deep winter, the season when our bond is tightly woven; the dark pulls us into greater cooperation, and the cold sharpens our instinct to protect one another. We are a pack, and I am a wolf.

Winter takes its toll on all living creatures; the dark, the cold, the scarcity. Ultimately, we all eat sunlight, and this is the time when the sun stands still and low. No one survives winter alone. To be alive is to be woven into a pack. When darkness presses in, we lean into each other. I guard while they rest, and their rest becomes my rest, each of us taking our turn. When we hunt, we store our food in the belly of the collective. We conserve our resources through collaboration and loyalty, focusing our energy on a single path led by a worthy leader.

Starlight fades, and I hear them begin to rustle. I go to them to weave our bond and mend any holes; licking fur, rubbing noses, spreading the good news of safety, smoothing any anxious nerves. We tumble over each other’s bones and paw the shared flesh of us, satisfying our deep desire for belonging. Softened jaws dovetail; playful nips stitch our dreams and wake into a single, cohesive pack consciousness.

Our complex connection is our resilience. It is also our source of our survival.