The Day of the Wolf

The fall of 1815 brought with it the coldest air I had ever breathed. My skill with my rifle had afforded me many opportunities to trade with the Sioux tribe. It would require much firewood and many buffalo hides to stay warm during what was certain to be a winter colder than anything I had known before.

I learned to make signs with the Indians which enabled me to communicate with them to a small degree. I shared my meat with them when I killed buffalo. I traded meat and hides for things like moccasins, corn, and fuel for the impending winter. Their distrust of me was obvious--despite my efforts to befriend the Sioux, they only traded with me out of necessity. I learned over time that some of the Sioux had begun referring to me as “Firestick.” It pleased me to know that they thought enough of me to at least give me a name.

The first snowfall came in early November. Heaving blankets of snow covered the entire prairie in a matter of mere hours. The wind blew across the land in a most unforgiving way. I battled the invasion of drifting snow constantly to keep my sod house from being buried by the onslaught. By the middle of November, the drifts were at least four feet deep. This enabled me to store the meat I had killed. I buried the meat in snow banks and it remained unspoiled for long periods of time. That was, until the thief arrived.

Stepping out of my sod house, I saw the tracks for the first time, indicating that a large wolf was in the area. Every piece of meat that I had buried was now gone. “Cursed devil!” I exclaimed. Trudging through deep snow, I returned to the soddie to get my rifle. Securing a pair of Indian made snowshoes to my feet, I set about to bring an end to this intruder, once and for all.

I followed the tracks for three hours. The beast was nothing if not crafty and wise. He walked in long sweeping circles, trying to disorient me. Tracking him until it was nearly dark, I made my way back to the soddie. The robber of my food supply eluded me all the day.

When the morrow was fully come, I prepared myself to hunt for the day. The dried meat inside the soddie would not last long. I had to secure a store of meat if I were to make it through the harsh winter. Outside the wind blew strong and bitter. The fallen snow once again carried back into the air. The entire landscape gleamed pure white. The blowing snow and fog would make it easy to become lost. I noticed that the wind formed pointed ridges in the snow that bore witness to its direction. If I were to become disoriented, I could read these “snow ridges” and find my way.

Burrowing my way into the snow bank adjacent to the river bottom, I lay motionless awaiting any sign of wild game, my breath making clouds in the freezing air. I wore a pair of Sioux moccasins that I obtained during trading a month earlier. They laced up all the way to my knees and were quite warm. They were crafted with an artisan’s skill the like of which I had never seen before. The Indians are most certainly an industrious and creative people. I made a buffalo hide coat for myself that I was rather proud of. It lacked the skillful appearance of the Indian garb--yet functioned very well at keeping me warm. The rest of my clothing and a hat and mittens were obtained during trading at the post in Pembina--a five day ride from the Devil’s Lake.

After an hour had passed, I saw a gray rabbit bounding across the frozen river. I quickly shouldered my musket and fired. The rabbit clung to life for a brief moment, then succumbed to its fate and died. I reloaded the musket with another measure of shot, and waited. Moments later, two more rabbits began their journey across the river. My shot ended the life of the larger one. With two rabbits to my credit, I made my way back to the soddie. Just as I was about to open the door, I saw the tracks again.

It appeared that this wolf had circled my house several times--obviously searching for food. Judging by the scratch marks on my door, this wolf had even tried to gain entrance to my house. Anger burned within me.

I began to feel mocked by this intruding wolf--as though he wanted me aware of his presence. As though he were trying to put my nerves on edge. I opened the door to the sod house and set the rabbits on my table. I placed the musket on its rack and grabbed my rifle. Loading the rifle with an extra thimble of powder, I shut my door securely and once again began tracking the wolf.

I followed the sweeping circles carefully--alert to any sound I could hear. After an hour of this, I noticed fresh tracks in the snow behind me. This wolf of hell’s creation was tracking me! I doubled back toward the soddie, studying the tracks along the way. The wolf had gotten as close as ten feet behind me and I never knew it was there.

This wolf possessed a measure of intelligence beyond anything I had ever seen. It was clear to me that the beast was intent on my demise. I secured myself inside the soddie, cleaning and skinning my rabbits. With that task completed, I roasted the meat over my fire and ate with the apprehension of a man who might possibly be ambushed at any moment.