A Russian Wolf Tale with a Twist

For the last several years in my work as (novice) storyteller, I have been stewing over a Russian story called Prince Ivan, the Firebird and the Grey Wolf.  I say “stewing”, because this old story, collected (along with hundreds of others) in the mid 1800’s by Alexander Afanasev from the Russian countryside, has revealed more and more layers of meaning to me over time.  I continue to be surprised about what it brings up in me and in the people of various ages, with whom I share it.

The turning point of the story centers around the young Prince Ivan’s decision to pursue his quest by choosing to ride a wolf—not just any wolf, but a wolf who had just eaten his horse because it was starving.  That act of instinct in our good-hearted but naïve hero could have been deadly—but instead, it became the key to the prince’s success.  In this case, that meant retrieving the firebird at the request of his father the King, winning the hand of a princess,  eventually making his father’s kingdom whole again, and ruling with the Princess (now Queen) for a long, long time of peace and prosperity  (after the banishment of his evil brothers, of course). 

O.K. it’s a Russian tale, so there is lots of twists and turns (many fantastical), and it takes 30 minutes to tell—which is a lot to ask anybody, let alone a group of rambunctious 9 to 12 year olds, to sit through.  But they do! 

Every time Ivan nearly reaches his goal, he somehow screws something up—but the wolf mysteriously reappears to bail him out. “Climb on my back, and I will take you where you need to go”, repeats the wolf to Ivan, after he makes yet another blunder. And Ivan does…

Why am I thinking of this story on the eve of the court hearing in Missoula of the merits of our case against the U.S. government for prematurely delisting the wolf—a case that if we lose, will mean the slaughter of hundreds of wolves in the Northern Rockies ecosystem?  I am thinking of it because it offers something different, in terms of what wolves can mean to us—meanings that you will not hear in the courtroom, or in the press over the next few days.

For certain, you will hear legal arguments.  Whether or not the state plans of Idaho and Montana are adequate to maintain the Northern Rockies wolf population, if federal protections are removed.  Whether the Fish and Wildlife Service’s decision to split out Wyoming from the rest of the Northern Rockies population is legal, in the wake of a longstanding policies under the Endangered Species Act to protect entire species or populations—not just populations that happen to live in certain states (but often roam into the neighboring ones). 

You will hear science arguments.  How many wolves are enough for long-term viability?  Is the recent evidence of a few migrant wolves between central Idaho’s wolf population and the long-isolated Yellowstone population  adequate to ensure the long term health of the population—health that relies on genetic exchange between wolf populations? There will undoubtedly be arguments about the real—or imagined— biological impacts of wolves on elk, whose numbers are still at highs levels throughout the region, despite some localized declines (declines  due to  many complex factors, not just wolves). 

You will hear arguments about fairness.  Is it fair, for example, for the federal government to allow the states of Idaho and Montana to manage wolves to minimum levels, when it has never done so for other endangered species that have been delisted, such as the peregrine falcon and the bald eagle?  Is it fair and appropriate in a democratic society for the federal government to delist wolves, when 99% of the public who commented on the state and federal wolf delisting plans strongly opposed this move? 

You will hear arguments about morality: is it moral for we humans to kill wolves merely as trophies—not for the purposes of eating the meat, or using them for some other reasonable benefit?  Do we have a moral obligation, after having exterminated wolves across the United States landscape, to do more than just maintain wolves in 5% of their former range in the lower-48 states?  Can we, and should we do more to promote recovery in suitable habitat, such as in Colorado, Utah, Oregon and Washington, where wolves are starting to show up? 

You will hear questions about rationality.  How come, for example, the Northern Rockies wolf population recovery target is 300 individuals, while the recovery target for mid-western wolves (same species) is 1,500 individuals?  Why is it that the state and federal governments have not made the kind of commitment to resolving wolf-livestock conflicts on the ground with ranchers, as they have with grizzly bears, that also sometimes get tangled up with livestock and ranchers? 

You will hear arguments about economics.  About how much wolf tourist/viewing-related revenue contributes to communities around places like Yellowstone, where wolves are highly visible—more easily seen by the average person than anywhere else in the world, particularly the famed Lamar Valley.  According to a study by University of Montana professor John Duffield, this revenue totals $35 million dollars a year in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, and each dollar  turns over 4 times each year with the  communities around Yellowstone Park.   Since we all know it is expensive to deal with carnivore-livestock conflicts, why doesn’t the government bring additional funds for solving conflicts non-lethally?  Why is it that, while many proactive, nonlethal solutions to conflicts are available, the only answer to a wolf problem seems to be a gun? 

You will hear lots and lots of symbolic arguments about the wolf: it is either Satan’s Dog, or the ancestor to “man’s best friend”.  It’s a threat to progress, or a boon to healthy, functioning ecosystems.  It’s a symbol of our past domination and use of nature, or part of the complex biological weave of life that we are closely connected to and part of.

I guarantee, you won’t hear anything about riding wild wolves.  But maybe, when the “he said/she said” media chatter dies down, riding wolves is something worth thinking about.  Prince Ivan loses his trusted horse, and relying on gut instinct, climbs on the back of a wild wolf—an animal known for its strength, intimate knowledge of its habitat and its sense of purpose.  The wolf becomes Ivan’s friend and ally (think “pack”), enabling Ivan to do things that he could have never done alone—or with the conventional vehicle of his horse.  In some way, the wolf is the embodiment of Ivan’s own wild spirit—something that he fears but deeply wants to connect with.  It is through facing his fears and embracing the wild, that he is able to complete his quest, making himself and his kingdom whole again. 

What is especially interesting is the fact this story was written down so long ago (after having been passed on orally perhaps for hundreds of years), in a country famous for having lots of wolves, and lots of human-wolf interactions—some of them positive, and some negative. 

And there is something even weirder… There are other stories that are eerily similar, about people riding wolves and achieving similar kinds of success.  My storyteller friend Laura Simms, for example, tells an ancient story (with completely different details) called The Giant with No Heart, where the action also turns on the hero’s willingness to ride a wild wolf. 

Maybe there is something in these old stories that offer us, at this juncture, some fresh, new insights about the meaning of wolves in our lives.  Maybe it’s time for us to rethink what wolves mean on archetypical and personal levels, and the complex ways that we relate to wolfness, wildness, and our own instinctual untamed spirit.