At Lone Wolf Lake
Years later the memory sprang suddenly to mind.
“Whatever possessed me?” I wondered aloud.
“What a wild and crazy thing to do!”
Dad had said, “Try fishing Lone Wolf Lake”
when I sought to entertain a visitor from the south.
“Okay,” I replied, determined to give him
a taste of our Northern Ontario wilderness
that he’d not soon forget.
Lines cast from shore, I saw his wolfish grin
as we waited in the hot, still air.
Oh, oh! I said silently to the swarm of blackflies.
Am I Little Red Riding Hood to his Big Bad Wolf?
As he tried to devour me with an unwelcomed kiss,
we heard loud, crashing sounds advancing toward us.
Relief transformed into awe in that magical moment.
A magnificent bull moose appeared.
He stood in his power and glory just a few yards away,
head slightly bent in a challenging stance.
Oh, oh! I said silently to the mosquitos. What now?
Then a sense of predatory wildness came over me
with a fearless courage unlike I’d ever felt.
The moose reacted instinctively, turned around,
and headed back into the bush as fast as it could
with me chasing after it, unarmed, and running
as if my life depended upon the hunt.
When the feeling passed, I stopped, shook my head,
and waited ’til the Big Bad Wolf caught up.
He’d changed too. A sheepish grin. Fear in his eyes.
I laughed then, as I do now.
Whatever possessed me at Lone Wolf Lake?
February, 2000 revised march, 2004