The Last Free Wolf in Scotland

I – The End

They faced him, skulking, their backs arched. They paced, their rough tongues eagerly slipping in and out. They stalked him, crossing each other’s trails like prison guards. They bared their teeth to advance. I am the alpha, he thought. I am the last free wolf in Scotland.

II – The Beginning

Jamie’s life had spiralled, languishing in doldrums of intellectual poverty. His wee gran had finally passed, and her flat has now his; but to what end? He had been so focused on looking after her these last years, his own life had stunted. His gran had been buried in his mother’s grave; and oh, how he had wept for both of them. A large part of him had been shovelled down there that day; he was a man bereft; emptied.

It was this quality of absence which Dr Murdo Falconer clocked when he saw Jamie in the lecture hall that evening. A vessel for moulding.

It had taken a couple of months for Jamie to go out into the world but a new college class was advertised which hit the spot: Scotland: Our Natural World. He had been instantly transfixed by their lecturer, Dr Falconer. He was dressed like a Scots adventurer, a character you might see in a modern take on a Robert Louis Stevenson novel, with his leather waistcoat, muted tartan kilt and Doc Martens. He spoke of symbiosis; he spoke of the relationship between predator and prey and how that drove evolution. His class were enthralled.

Dr Falconer spoke of the old ways, of being at peace with the land and living with the land as a partner instead of an adversary. He spoke not of man reclaiming nature; for how could man reclaim what was not his to begin with? No, he spoke of “new man” reclaiming the ways of “old man”; to better partner with nature and help her recover from the absurdity of modern and postmodern interventions by human society. Jamie was hooked.  

III – The Old Ways, and the New

At the end of the latest lecture Dr Falconer was packing some papers in his well-worn knapsack. He was well aware that the young lad with beaming eyes had hung back. Let the fly come to the spider, he thought.

“Excuse me … Dr Falconer?”

“Yes lad, can I help ye?”

“I … I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your lecture tonight. About the old ways and the new, about rediscovering those lost arts. I wondered if you could perhaps… I mean … I’d like to know more about it.”

Dr Falconer fastened the belts on his knapsack with confident finality. “Murdo Falconer. Pleased to get to know you. Glad you are enjoying the lectures. What’s yir name, son?”

“Jamie. Jamie McCourt, Dr Falconer.”

“Well Jamie, good to know you. Call me Murdo please, none of this Dr Falconer carry on. Now, my lad – take these books and have a read. If anything in here sparks, you can tell me about it next week.” Murdo retrieved a couple of books from his knap-sack and passed them across.

Death of a Naturalist by Seamus Heaney. He had never heard of it, or the author. He flicked through and was surprised to discover it was a collection of poems. The other book was Restoring the Wild by Roy Dennis.

“You have a wee dauner through these, Jamie lad, and we’ll chat. I sense there’s a wee bit adventure in you. We could take some steps, you and I, to do something about it. What d’you say, lad? Once you’ve studied up, shall we bold?”

Jamie wanted to be bold. Knowing he had got his man, Murdo told Jamie about the lynx.

IV – The Riddle of the Lynx

Lynx had been hunted to extinction in Scotland some five hundred years ago. “Someone has to atone, to answer to the land,” Murdo explained. Murdo knew a group of rogue re-wilders, who called themselves the GGs – the Guerilla Gorillas. They’d had success with what Murdo called “boar bombing”, reintroducing wild boar to remote parts of the Scottish highlands. Now, the GG’s had gotten their hands on two Eurasian lynx.

Murdo explained that the deer population was out of control, inhibiting the forests with overgrazing. “Reintroducing a lynx population would help cull some of the deer, allowing the forest to regenerate naturally.”

“This is our chance”, Murdo argued, “to send a heroic signal.” It had already been done in Europe, why not in Scotland? Within days, Jamie found himself in Murdo’s campervan driving north to meet the GGs.

They’d made the exchange somewhere north of Pitlochry. The lynx were inside a large cage, which Jamie and Murdo lifted into the back of his van. It was January in the Highlands of Scotland: it was bitter, and the further north they drove, snowfall turned from a light smur to a deep wintry scene.

“Jamie lad, I’m glad you’re here to help. This is a powerful thing we are doing. It’s no’ just us making a statement to the powers-that-be in Edinburgh. This is about us connecting with the land again, d’you see?”

Jamie did see. He was part of something bigger now, something outside of himself. Murdo had been his window to this world. As he looked at the dark forests around him, he felt himself a part of the bigger picture; part of the ecosystem. Murdo and he were redressing the imbalance, respecting the land by better understanding nature and, in some way, atoning for the past misdeeds of humankind.

After a spell, Murdo took a dirt track away from the main road and they lifted the cage out, walking a mile in the sub-zero before placing it gingerly on the forest floor. There was less snow here, with the canopy shielding them to allow the grand release. One of the lynx mewled as Murdo placed his hands on the chain which would allow him to lift the hatch and release them.

“Tell me, fellow-creatures, why at my presence thus you fly?” he said with a dramatic flourish. The lynx padded lazily out of the cage, non-plussed at his oration of the Bard, but before long were lost to the darkness of the woods.

“You see, Jamie lad, just as nature intended.”

They trudged back to the van through the forest. It was freezing, and the trees creaked with displeasure. But Jamie was enthralled; he and Murdo laughed and clapped each other’s backs to congratulate themselves.

The bonhomie was cut short. A sudden wind cut through the trees like an army of arrows, piercing at their cheeks and fingers; and brought with it a guttural moan which made Jamie’s stomach turn. “D’ye hear it lad! D’ye hear her!” Murdo shouted above the wind.

“She’s seen ye now, boy! The land – she’s calling us, celebrating!” The moan changed pitch, and became a howl. Jamie stopped, whirling around to see if something awful was emerging from the darkness of the trees around them.

“She’s telling us what she wants, what she needs, Jamie lad!” Murdo said, grabbing him by the shoulder with the howls invading their ears. “It’s the wolf ye hear, she wants us to be the wolf!”

V – Teeth and Flesh

Back at the van, Murdo opened a bottle of Macallan and insisted they toast their success as they heated themselves.

“You’ve done well, my boy. But now it’s time we take the next step; you heard her as did I. You heard the howls. Are you ready?”

Jamie swallowed his dram and nodded, asking for another. Though frightened half out of his wits, he was in the middle of a grand adventure doing nature’s good work. The land, nature herself, had chosen him; Murdo had said so. He was ready.

“You’re in the inner sanctum, now laddie. So, listen close. For this land to thrive, nature must persist. Nature is no’ just flowers and trees; it’s teeth and flesh. Teeth and flesh, Jamie. That’s what we’ve deprived her of all these hundreds of years. But you and I, Jamie, you and I will give it back to her; back to the land, to the soil. We’ll be made kings for this, in time.”

Without really knowing it, Jamie now belonged not to some spirit of the forest, but to Murdo.

“You’ve one final lesson. We must become the beast to truly be at one wi’ nature. That’s how we complete the reclamation. We must become one wi’ the beast again, and master him. We must master the beast – not through chains, Jamie, but by subjugating its will with our own; through dominion. She wants you to be the wolf, laddie.”

“I can … become the wolf?” Jamie asked.

“Tomorrow – aye, tomorrow’s a big day for us now Jamie. You’re ready. You’re ready tae become the alpha; to face the wolf and stare him doon, and by God, Jamie my boy, I know it in ma heart that you’ll succeed. That’s what she wants of ye now! Tomorrow we face the wolf, and you will be his master.”

VI – You must become the Beast

The next morning, they had driven two or three hours to find a secluded deer park. Murdo knew the land, knew the rise and fall of it, and knew there was a fenced enclosure; a “wolf wood” where a trio of wolves were allowed to roam. As the low winter light failed early afternoon, they snuck up with wire cutters and fence pliers, and before long had made a van sized gap in the outer barbed wire fence of the conservation area. Jamie stayed at the hole as lookout, and shortly after Murdo returned, snaking the van through the hole. Inside, they drove as close to the wolf enclosure as possible.

Stepping down from the van, Jamie heard the first howl. He peered through the trees and, there it was … the alpha wolf. The wolf was an impressive, almost majestic sight – stood atop a burn inside the sanctuary, seeking height advantage to get a look at the intruders and establish dominance.

Murdo climbed to the top of his van to get a better look. “Jamie, lad, get yourself up here. You need to show them who’s boss; this is how we master them.” Jamie climbed up. His line of sight to the wolf, now joined by two others, was now clear. They howled, musing at the action of the two humans standing atop the van.

Murdo grabbed Jamie by the shoulders. “You command them now, my boy. The land is wi’ ye, and I’ll be wi’ ye. The land knows your name; she howled it to us last night. These wolves over here – now they’ll know it too. It’s time for ye tae become the beast, tae become the flesh o’ the land. Time for dominion … for reclamation!” Murdo purred.

Jamie was lost, lost to madness of it all. He hugged Murdo tightly. “The flesh of the land,” he purred.

“Aye lad. You are the last free wolf. You are the alpha. Now; go to it, whilst y’have the last o’ this twilight!” Jamie took a step to the end of the van. The three wolves were prowling.

“To master the beast, you must become the beast,” Murdo purred, and produced a packet from inside his waistcoat. It was a bag of blood – boar’s blood. He ripped it open, and poured it all over Jamie.

“You can be the wolf! The last free wolf in Scotland!” Murdo howled. And with that, he pushed Jamie into wolf enclosure.

VII – The End: Reprise

At first, the wolves had retreated. Jamie’s head was ringing with words he had committed to his mind and he tried to smear the blood away from his eyes. I am the alpha; and this is my dominion, for the land knows my name. To master the beast, I must become the beast. I am the last free wolf in Scotland.

But within moments they returned, pacing, patrolling, and his shock at being thrown to them made Jamie’s stomach lurch. The alpha barked; a guttural order. The two lesser wolves attacked in a pincer. It was co-ordinated; without remorse.

“Murdo! What – what have you done!” he shouted, fighting them off. Atop the van, Murdo howled; at first, like the wolves, but then, with a murky laughter.

“The land knows yer name, Jamie lad! The land knows ye, the soil knows ye … and it wants ye! Don’t worry, you’ll be remembered for this, my lad, I’ll make sure of it!”

One of the wolves launched at Jamie and bit into his arm, tearing away most of his muscle.

“Christ, Murdo, help me!”

“Too late, laddie. It is time for the old ways and they demand a sacrifice. Yon pig’s blood will help the wolves remember – remember that the soil needs human blood too. Can’t you hear it laddie? The soil? It’s famished. But now, it’s time to dine.”

Jamie whirled round the enclosure, trying to escape, but the alpha wolf was now on him, the thrill of the blood in its nostrils, the thrill of the chase in its eyes. Murdo stood atop of his van; whooping and hollering like a shaman.

“Give yourself, Jamie lad! Give your flesh to the beast, to the land!” he screamed.

Jamie’s instinct kicked in. It was a human instinct; he was no beast. Waves of fearful reality swept over him. What a fool I’ve been, he thought. “Maniac! Murderer!” he shouted at Murdo; his jousts met by belly-laughs from the smirking goon atop the van.

With each bite and scratch, his humanity returned to him. With each bite and scratch, the truth of betrayal, of his own foolishness, ran from him in deep crimson streaks. Murdo howled and danced as he watched the wolves; betraying his lunacy.

“Blood, laddie, blood! A human sacrifice for the land, for the soil!”

There had been a time in Scotland when the last free wolves might claim someone lost in the deep dark woods; and there had been a time in Scotland when man might sacrifice man. Now, some several hundred years later, Murdo laughed triumphantly as he watched his sacrificial lamb devoured.

Jamie was beyond saving. The wolves tore at him relentlessly. The wolves had never tasted man-flesh, and they found that it satisfied them greatly. They began to eat him even as he lay panting for breath, spilling his guts. The alpha lifted its blood-soaked face to peer at Jamie, unfeeling, before gnawing at his stomach, ripping it free from his bowels.

Jamie’s last thoughts might have been of transcendence, of some cultish reverie, perhaps thinking he was facing rapture. As it was, his last thoughts were a deep terror, flashes of snarling teeth, peppered with manic tittering from somewhere above, and his own gore in the frozen dirt and grass below him. And then, he thought no more.