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December 12, 2004 ~ Mud-Wrestling
Sunday.
Ash, a lower-content wolf dog, is normally very friendly with me, and several other volunteers. And Sierra, a high-content, nearly a wolf, will normally at least come up for a sniff. But not today. They knew what the crate in their pen meant, and they wouldn't have anything to do with us. At least, they thought they knew. We knew that it meant transport to a new, much bigger pen, one that didn't have any mud, unlike the tiny one that they were in. But how could they know? Crates usually mean bad things, like trips in cars and time at the vet.
Nancy, Morgan and I first tried to funnel Sierra into the crate, by forming a human wall and swinging around, but she always managed to slip by. Plus, we couldn't move too fast, or we'd slip and fall in the mud.
"Why don't we get Ash first, then?" Asked Morgan. "He's much more friendly, and will go submissive if we corner him."
We changed tactics, now focusing on Ash, who did not like this turn of events one bit. He ended up in the lower corner, the slipperiest, muddiest one. Morgan and I hemmed him in on one side, Nancy on the other. There was only one problem. Ash was not going submissive as he normally does when cornered. Instead, he stood stiff-legged, ears back, lips drawn back a little, and started a growl. I froze. Well, crap.
"He could bite right now, he's at that point," I cautioned the others, in case they hadn't seen. They had.
"I'll back off, since he doesn't like me as much," Morgan said.
Nancy and I stayed still and talked to him to try to calm him down. He relaxed some, ceased all threats, but was still scared. I reached out cautiously, laid a hand against his neck, and gave him a few scratchin's when he gave me good signs. I moved in with the other hand. So far, so good. And then he bolted, knocked me over flat into the mud, and was gone.
Nancy and Morgan both cursed, and I picked myself up out of the mud.
"Oh, Honey, you're covered in mud," Nancy observed.
"No shit," I said, wiping at the side of my face, and laughing despite the ache and the cold and the nasty wet mud.
"Somebody get a lead," Nancy called, and Holly, who was sitting outside the pen, brought one and handed it through. This time Morgan held back, and Nancy and I cornered Ash again, this time in the highest, driest corner.
This time he gave no threats, went submissive, and Nancy got a lead around him. We wrapped him in a blanket (to calm him and to make him easier to carry) and carried him over to the crate. We put him in, pulled the blanket and the lead off of him, and took him, and the crate out of the pen. (All of this time, Sierra stood watching from as far away as possible).
While they rolled him in his crate over to the new pen, I sat talking to Sierra, trying to calm her. It was no good, though. Now, not only was she freaked out, her pen mate was being wheeled away.
When Nancy and Morgan returned, we developed a strategy. More people to funnel her into the crate, and meat in the crate as bait. Unfortunately, Sierra told us in no uncertain terms that she had NO interest in that meat. "It's in a crate, do you think I'm stupid?"
So we all stood in a line and attempted a funnel. She managed to squeeze between the crate and the fence to escape. We tried again. She broke between two of us. We tried again. She jumped over Holly's shoulder to freedom. Trying not to get frustrated, we tried again.
Finally, finally, it worked. Confused, she ran into the crate when she thought she was running beside it. Holly snapped it shut and Sierra looked terribly hurt. "You tricked me. I'm in a crate. It's the end of the world!"
However, a minute later, she came to her senses and realized, "Oh yeah! I'm standing in a pile of meat." She ate ravenously, casting accusing glances our way. When she finished, we loaded her crate onto the wagon, covering it to calm her, and brought her over to the new pen where Ash was already running full speed from end to end, pouncing, leaping, playing, and looking happier than I'd ever seen him.
We let her out and they were off. She, trying to sniff and mark everything she could. Ash kept trying to get her to play, "Come on, I've already checked out the joint, look you can run, let's play, let's play!"
And the sight of those two running and playing makes the bruises and achy joints that I'm already starting to develop this evening more than worth it.
click here to help the wolves!
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