Hiking in Colorado, 1970 I quietly came upon a lone wolf at the side of a stream. I stood motionless watching the magnificent wolf hunt. The wolf slapped a fish out of the stream and devoured it, then sniffed the snow, started digging, and ate the arctic mice that scurried up. I had never seen any being so suited to life in that harsh mountain climate, so proficient at hunting, and yet so unthreatening to me. As I stood entranced in the snow, only 20 feet away, the magnificent wolf paused to look at me with those clear eyes, as if to see if I was still there.
When I had to leave from the numbing cold, and slowly backed off, the wolf just watched me, then continued hunting.