Feral Eyes

Leaning against the steel railing we embrace the cold, clammy fingers of West Coast fog wrapping itself around our boat. Our water taxi seems suspended in silent mist as it chugs past craggy rock faces and forests dipping their toes into the salty brine.

A slight movement on shore catches our attention. I strain to identify the surreal shape. Kelp and salt snatch at our throats. We hold our breath. Eyes tear, struggling to visualize a ghost-like apparition.

There. There it is. A black wolf sniffs amongst the smooth pebbles lining this beach. We listen to chatter from overturned stones as it searches for breakfast. While we stand transfixed at the railing, the outline of wolf’s lean body becomes clear. Its coat is ruffled and damp in the morning light. We watch in awe.

Sensing our presence, the wolf lifts its head. Amber eyes search mine. An unbroken, feral stare thrills my soul…freedom, wilderness and pride.