Part 6 of the Owl story, part 5 is here:

Knowledge

I had questions about Inga’s earlier life, but did not ask them, no more than Inga questioned me about what I had done before meeting her. We knew that knowledge, in the wonderful medieval sense of the word, was a matter of patience. One evening, toward the end of October, she said she wanted to stay home, and talk.

We’d had a busy day, with little sleep, me working on the thesis, her doing some research for me (Inga was incredibly clever at digging out bits of local history that would certainly have escaped me), and looking after the “garden” on the balcony. We had a frugal meal. Indeed I was getting slimmer, some would have said, leaner. The diet had something to do with it, but also the fact that I was training harder than ever, and had Inga to collect her due.

Childhood

She said that she’d been brought up by Ewa, with her adopted cousin, Marco. Ewa and her husband, Karl, had adopted Marco, just before the accident that caused Inga’s parents death. Inga and Marco grew up, together, helping on the farm, attending the same school. Inga said they were very close, inseparable. One day, when she was fifteen, which was also Marco’s age, they lost their virginity to each other. Ewa was not happy about it. Marco later married. Inga wanted me to meet him and his wife, Viktoria.

As a child and young adult he had been a great hunter, but Inga had converted him, he was now the president of “Farmers for Wolves”, an association that promoted the re-adaptation of wolves into the forests of North Brandenburg. Inga said I would like her cousin. We decided to travel to Ewa’s farm just before dawn, and meet Marco there. I did the dishes, Inga got busy mending her clothes.

Long Ride

We then had a short sleep. In the middle of the night Inga wanted to drink, half awake I held her over me, and offered my neck to her teeth. This is how dawn found us, as one, her mouth half open around my skin, her beloved arms around me.

We showered and got ready for the hour long ride to Ewa’s farm. Inga knew ways out of the city, through the old part of what had been the East side. Soon we were riding along a route I knew now well, through woods and past small lakes. It had rained during the night and the air was beautifully clean. I could sense Inga’s happiness, we kissed and nearly fell off our bikes. I was intrigued at the prospect of meeting Marco, and did not know really what to expect.

We arrived at Ewa’s house at the time the estate was waking up. Ewa of course was up and working in the big kitchen, we kissed. “Marco will be here soon. He said he would drive out with you, to show you something you’d never seen…” Inga was smiling. We drank some milk. Inga explained she’d help her aunt while Marco and me got to know each other.

Marco

Marco arrived, his place was nearby, and his car was the 4×4 I had noticed in Ewa’s yard at our first visit. He was a giant of a man, towering over my 1.9m, a muscular colossus. His hand shake was firm but light, his smile extraordinarily friendly. I was delighted at his obvious approval when we started talking in dialect. He explained we would later all meet at his place, when I would meet Viktoria. As Inga had said he wanted to take me to a wood nearby to show me a “miracle”.

So we walked to the car and he started driving gently along a narrow country lane. He said his mother, Ewa, and him now owned a big chunk of the land around us. He had specialised in a few crops, while keeping some cattle, and also replanting trees. He asked me about my work, and what I was researching. He said he had old papers from his dad, Ewa’s husband, that he would share with me.

We were progressing slowly along the old lane, and I realised the 4×4 was no luxury. Marco was navigating carefully between big holes on the ground. Then he stopped the car in view of a wood, which appeared to extend far to the East. “We have to wait now. I meet them often here, but today we may or may not see them. It depends on their mood.” We chatted about his work, the association, about the politics of farming in his country.

Meeting

He was a reflecting, experienced man, and he asked me several questions about the West side that showed he was well aware of the broader politics. He told me about the forests, and the fight to keep the wolves alive. At this point, he pulled out of the car side box a pair of binoculars. “I can’t say I know how they know, but they know this is my car! They also know I am not on my own…” He looked though the binoculars for an instant then pointed to me where to look.

I adjusted the lenses, scanned the edge of the wood, as Marco had indicated. I nearly missed them, and then I saw: they were well camouflaged and were both looking straight at us: a pair of grey wolves, evidently a couple. We remained silent. Then Marco said: “They are safe there, these fields and the woods belong to me and Ewa. The neighbours are mostly believers in conservation, and those who are not know they would have to deal with me if they took a potshot at those!”

He laughed. The wolves must have heard his laugh, they slowly stood up, turned round with a last look at the car and us, and then disappeared in the wood. “We are not doing too badly, Marco said, we now have this couple, and another two to three in the immediate neighbourhood. The sheep farmers are worried, but we organise their defense, and the losses are minimum. Still it’s a struggle at times.” He was driving now to his place, talking about his business and how lucky he was to be married to Viktoria. 

Viktoria

The farm house was impressive, an old building from before the first war, beautifully restored. In the yard stood another 4×4, and a powerful off-road motorcycle. Viktoria welcomed us, and held me in her arms. She was Germania, a tall, blond woman in her thirties, with the figure of an athlete. We started talking about the country, the city, the farm, the wolves. She said Ewa and Inga were in the kitchen doing lunch. Marco laughed: “Is it safe?”

Viktoria pushed me gently to enter, past a large hall a double door led to the day room, and through it, to the kitchen. I heard Inga’s voice, she and Ewa were laughing. Inga turned round as we entered ran to me and kissed me, hard, on the mouth. “So, you met the masters of the country! Are you impressed?” I said I was, and I guessed it was proof of the good work the association had done.

We all then started taking about the wild, the wolves, the birds, the beauty of the woods. Marco was serving what I thought was a strong Apfelwein. Inga and Viktoria were bringing dishes to the long table. “Welcome in our family!” Said Ewa. We toasted, to the wild, to the Vaterland, to us. Marco mentioned the papers he thought may be of interest to my thesis. Inga embarked on a description of what the thesis was about.

Weird Child

Ewa asked her difficult questions and tried to trip her, without malice. We laughed. Later, as I offered to help I was kicked out of the kitchen, and Marco took me for a visit to the farm. It was a serious business. To the usual crop and cattle activity Marco had running an entire business of bio food delivery, to individuals and restaurants, and a vast plant for refrigeration. We talked finance and balance sheet. Viktoria was a shrewd finance director. 

Dawn was breaking when we took the road back home. I was thinking of how normal Inga’s family was. Good, hard-working people, close to the land, open-minded. So was Inga. She was reading my mind: “Yes, she said laughing, I’m the weird child….” When we reached the city I thought of Hans, and the great wolf, in the Caucasus. 

Picture source: https://www.istockphoto.com/photos/gray-wolf

Axel Gomille

As we can see from the resurgence of wolves in Eastern Germany, these magnificent creatures possess an incredible resilience and adaptability. Their ability to thrive in a changing landscape raises an intriguing question: can wolves reclaim their place in other parts of Europe? While challenges such as habitat loss and human-wildlife conflict persist, the success stories of wolf populations give us hope.

With concerted conservation efforts and a shift in public perception, it seems possible for wolves to flourish beyond their current territories. The future of these fascinating animals may well depend on our willingness to coexist and protect their habitats. So, let’s keep the conversation going—after all, the howling of wolves could be a vital part of our natural heritage once more.