Gray Wolf Archives - Ferrara Wildlife Photography

Timber Wolf – The Lonely Lament

The Lonely Lament The snow blew in abusively powerful buffeting waves. At times visibility was reduced to a mere few feet and the melancholy moan of the wind set a terrifying tenor that chilled to the core of the soul. Or was the wail the wind? Perhaps. Perhaps not. As the misty murk thinned, the author of the lonely lament was gradually revealed. A Timber Wolf stood idly in the ice-crystalled landscaped and gave a sonorous serenade to the open expanse … its voice was the definitive signature of wilderness. ~ Anecdote and Timber Wolf capture, The Lonely Lament © Jerry L. Ferrara

A Scapegoat Oh hear the little girl in red It’s all about the things she’s said How wicked and how you are bad So really, really, really sad Those awful, spiteful, hateful lies Have twisted fact, yet truth belies Yes, you are a killer supreme So what does that point really mean? Your actions balance and bring wealth To Nature’s web it means great health You keep the herds and prey in check Why does that make you circumspect? Could it be mankind’s deep need To find a scapegoat for “his” deeds? ~ Poem and Timber Wolf capture, A Scapegoat © Jerry L. Ferrara

A Shadow Shifted The wind moaned a mournful monologueand the snow swept the spacious ‘scape.In the same surreal circumstancea shadow shifted and took shape. ~ Poem and Gray Wolf capture, A Shadow Shifted © Jerry L. Ferrara

To Gorge The elk’s moment of mortality had arrived and death hovered close by. Time and age had worked their unrelenting influences on flesh and blood and bone and muscle. Worn was the noble beast. Each step taken by the arthritis-riddled cervid was a painful endeavor. It could no longer maintain pace with the herd and so the crippled creature lagged behind, its fate sealed by senescence. Down by the river it lingered alone waiting for quietus and that final moment of release. For sure the elk would struggle, but the effort would be futile … and so it was. When the wolves arrived they mercilessly assailed the wapiti with vicious, rending fangs. Relentlessly they targeted haunch, throat and mouth. Tissue tore and crimson fluid spewed the air. The brutal deed was committed with a ferocious savagery, yet the act maintained a sense of pure poetic beauty. The elk’s spirit slipped away. In so doing it left behind a gift in the form of sustenance. What remained were days worth of fare, on which to gorge. ~ Anecdote and Gray Wolf image To Gorge © Jerry L. Ferrara

Stare Down The female Gray Wolf was so incredibly beautiful as she gracefully loped across the sweep parallel to my position. I stood stock still while clicking off image after image, but periodically paused just to watch. It wasn’t long before things changed rapidly and the “lupine being” turned directly into my camera and lens. It was breathtaking! In the blink of an eye she had approached to about 16 feet, the closest I could focus with the lens being used. To my chagrin she wouldn’t look directly at me, but constantly surveyed both her sides and toward her back. Without warning the wolf pointed her nose downward and peered in my direction. The stare down was brief, with neither threat nor aggression implied, simply recognition. She then turned and ambled up and over the snow-mantled ridge and melted into the wild realm, like the spirit she was. ~ Anecdote and Gray Wolf capture, Stare Down © Jerry L. Ferrara

Stare Down It was incredible! The female wolf from the Agate pack just kept coming toward me. I literally had to back up to focus as she proceeded into the lens. And then she finally acknowledged my presence, putting her nose down to the snow and staring briefly into my universe. That acknowledgement was from a kindred spirit. No threat or aggression. A simple avowal of recognition. She was beautiful! ~ Anecdote and Gray Wolf capture, Stare Down © Jerry L. Ferrara.

Up On Snowy Ridge Up on Snowy Ridge, the wind is full of bite. Most creatures do not stir, so stay they out of sight. And well for them they do, amongst the stormy howl. For in the blustery murk, a presence there may prowl. It moves with stealth and purpose, but is it really there… a ghostly apparition, or just a false affair? Up on Snowy Ridge, the tempest meets demise. From the womb of Hell, a bold form does arise. Its aura full of skookum, though mankind finds great flaw. Yet wild things in wild places, live by sacred law. Up on Snowy Ridge, the untamed Gray Wolf waits. It stands for all that’s wild and free, will this remain its fate? …will wilderness abate? ~ Poem and Gray Wolf capture, Up On Snowy Ridge © Jerry L. Ferrara

Gray Wolf

Timber Wolf – The Lonely Lament

Timber Wolf – A Scapegoat

Gray Wolf – A Shadow Shifted

Gray Wolf – To Gorge

Gray Wolf – Stare Down

Gray Wolf – Stare Down

Gray Wolf – Up On Snowy Ridge

Ferrara Wildlife Photography