Wolf Totem: A Novel (27 page)

The two friends could not believe their eyes. “Wolves are scary,” Yang remarked. “This little bastard’s eyes aren’t even open and he’s already a tyrant. Now we see what it means to be the pick of the litter. I’ll bet he’d have acted the same around his brothers and sisters.”

Chen, mesmerized by the sight, was deep in thought. “We’ll have to study him closely,” he said finally. “There’s a lot we can learn from this. Our dog pen is a microcosm of world history. I’m reminded of something Lu Xun once wrote. He said that Westerners are brutish, while we Chinese are domesticated.”

Chen pointed to the cub. “There’s your brute.” Then he pointed to the pups. “And there’s your domestication. For the most part, Westerners are descendants of barbarian, nomadic tribes such as the Teutons and the Anglo-Saxons. They burst out of the primeval forest like wild animals after a couple of thousand years of Greek and Roman civilization, and sacked ancient Rome. They eat steak, cheese, and butter with knives and forks, which is how they’ve retained more primitive wildness than the traditional farming races. Over the past hundred years, domesticated China has been bullied by the brutish West. It’s not surprising that for thousands of years the Chinese colossus has been spectacularly pummeled by tiny nomadic peoples.”

Chen rubbed the cub’s head and continued. “Temperament not only determines the fate of a man but also determines the fate of an entire race. Farming people are domesticated, and faintheartedness has sealed their fate. The world’s four great civilizations were agrarian nations, and three of them died out. The fourth, China, escaped that fate only because two of the greatest rivers—the Yellow and the Yangtze—run through her territory. She also boasts the world’s largest population, making it hard for other nations to nibble away at her or absorb her, but maybe also because of the contributions of the nomadic peoples of the grassland... I haven’t satisfactorily thought out this relationship, but the more time I spend on the grassland—and it’s already been two years—the more complex I think it is.”

Yang nodded. “I think raising this wolf will be good for more than just studying wolves. We can also study human nature, wolf nature, and domestication. It’s a condition you can’t find in the city or in farming areas, other than people perhaps and their pets.”

“But if you don’t study them in tandem with wolf nature, you’ll never come up with anything worthwhile.”

“You’re right,” Yang agreed happily. “Our first day has already produced rewards.”

The commotion in the dog pen, and the whining protestation of the bullied pups increased Yir’s suspicions and vigilance. She fought to break free of Chen’s grip and see what was happening down there. Worried she might spot the cub and kill it, he held her head down and softly called her name, rubbing and stroking her to keep her calm until the cub’s belly was full. She managed to turn her head enough to see that there was an extra puppy in her den, and sniffed out the wolf. Maybe because the wolf had some of her milk on its body, she hesitated briefly, then nudged it away with her nose and struggled to get to her feet and step out of the den, where the light was better, to see what was going on.

But Chen pushed her down again; it was important for her to learn what he needed, and he was counting on her to accept this new reality, to obey, not resist. She began to whimper, appearing to comprehend that her master had brought a wolf cub back from the mountains and put it into her den with the idea of having her nurture one of her mortal enemies. Several times she tried to stand and pull her nipple out of the wolf’s mouth, but Chen kept pushing her back down. She was angry, agitated, uncomfortable, and disgusted, but she didn’t dare disobey her master and was forced to lie down indignantly and not move.

Calm gradually returned to the den. Yir was the first bitch Yang and Chen had raised, and they had lavished attention on her during her pregnancy, when the litter was born, and throughout the nursing period, with good food, good drink, and whatever else she needed. She had plenty of milk; in fact, after several of her litter had been taken away, she had more than she needed. The additional mouth, the wolf cub, had no effect on her supply, and even though her own three puppies had been pushed over to thinner teats, they slowly ate their fill, then crawled up onto their mother’s back and neck, where they began playfully nipping at one another’s tails and ears. The wolf cub was still suckling.

Chen looked on, and did not like what he was seeing. The cub’s belly was already more bloated than those of the puppies, so he reached down and touched it. It was taut as a drum and thin as paper. He worried that it might actually pop at that rate, so he pulled it back gently by the neck. But the cub refused to let go, stretching the nipple two inches and drawing yelps of pain from Yir. Yang anxiously reached down and pinched the sides of the cub’s mouth, finally breaking the connection. He breathed a cold sigh of relief. “Herdsmen say that wolves’ stomachs are made of rubber. I believe it.”

Chen was visibly pleased. “What an appetite!” he said. “He’s full of life; raising this one shouldn’t be hard. From now on, we’ll let him eat as much as he wants.”

Night had fallen, so Chen returned the cub to his den and put one of the female pups in with him so he’d feel comfortable around her even before the membranes fell from his eyes. He wanted them to become friends. They sniffed each other, Yir’s milk closing the distance between them; then they curled up together and slept. Chen spotted Erlang standing nearby, watching the cub and observing his master’s every move, wagging his tail, the sweep a little broader than before, as if to show his approval to his master for taking in a baby wolf. Just to be safe, Chen covered the little den with a wooden plank and held it down with a large rock.

Honest, sincere Gombu, so easy to get along with, had already penned the sheep, and when he heard that Chen and the others had stolen a litter of wolf cubs, he ran over with his flashlight to take a look. He spotted the five little pelts on top of the yurt and was shocked. “Here on the Olonbulag, no Han Chinese has ever taken a litter of wolves. Never. That’s the truth.”

As the three students sat around the metal stove eating lamb noodles, the sounds of barking dogs and running horses entered from the outside. A moment later, Zhang Jiyuan parted the felt curtain and opened the door. Squatting in the doorway, holding the reins of two horses, which were stamping their hooves, he said, “Headquarters says the big wolf pack has drifted back in smaller groups, and they’ve ordered all three production brigades to begin the encirclement hunt tomorrow. The northwest sector is our responsibility, with the help of some hunters from other brigades, and under the overall command of Bilgee. The brigade leaders want you to assemble at Bilgee’s yurt at one in the morning. Everyone but most of the old people and children, who will tend the cows and sheep, is expected to be part of the hunt. The horse herders will make sure everyone has a horse, and they’ll arrive at the ambush sites ahead of the rest of us. Get some sleep. I’m going now. Make sure, make absolutely sure, that you don’t oversleep.”

Zhang shut the door, jumped into the saddle, and rode off.

Gao Jianzhong put down his bowl, pulled a long face, and said, “We just got our little wolf, and now the big ones are here. These wolves are going to be the death of me.”

“A few more years out here on the grassland, and we might become wolves ourselves,” Yang Ke said.

They began making preparations for the hunt. Gao ran out to the pasture to bring their horses back to the hay enclosure, leaving them just outside while he ran in, picked up a pitchfork, and carried out three piles of hay. Yang fed the dogs some sheep bones and some lamb he took from a willow basket and checked the saddles, belly straps, and lasso poles. Then he helped Chen Zhen find a couple of leather dog collars. They had participated in small-scale hunts before and knew the importance of dog collars and leashes. Chen fastened one of the collars around Erlang’s neck and threaded a leash through the metal ring, then held both ends in his hand. He led the dog a few steps; then he pointed to the northern edge of the sheep pen, shouted “Go!” and released one end of the leash. Erlang ran over, turning the two lengths of rope into one, which came out of the ring. He ran into the dark night wearing only the collar, the long leash still in Chen Zhen’s hand. Handling dogs this way during a hunt meant the dogs were always under the hunter’s control, which kept them from going off on their own and throwing the hunt into confusion. At the same time, many dogs could be used without tangling them up in the leashes and slowing them down.

Yang Ke did the same to Yellow, threading the leash and practicing once. Both dogs obeyed commands, and the men’s actions were flawless, keeping the dogs from running off with the leashes.

12

The men and horses of the production brigade, along with a pack of hunting dogs, raced through the inky blackness behind Bilgee, heading northwest on the open grassland. Every man had at least one dog; some had two. Winds from the northwest hit them full in the face, neither softly nor with excessive force. A dense cloud cover pressed down on the land, blotting out all light from the moon and stars. Unrelieved darkness surrounded them; even the snow on the ground was invisible. Chen Zhen was tempted to strike a match to see if his eyes were still functioning.

Using sound alone, he moved closer to Bilgee. “Papa,” he said softly, “can I turn my flashlight on inside my sleeve? I’m not sure I still have eyes.”

“Don’t even think that!” The old man chastened him in a low voice that betrayed a prebattle case of nerves and a measure of concern.

Chen didn’t reply but continued on blindly, accompanied by the clip-clop of his horse’s hooves.

The hunting party moved quietly through the night. Wolves are superb night fighters, but grasslanders are also adept at surprise night attacks. Chen sensed that they were up against an uncommon pack of wolves; even with hunger gnawing at them, they had waited for a pitch-black night to emerge in full force. The looming battle was unfolding in accordance with Bilgee’s unusual prediction and in ways for which the old man had planned. Knowing he was about to participate in a contest acted out on the primitive grassland between a pair of wolf kings, Chen was exhilarated.

After negotiating a gentle downslope, the hunting party began riding up a much steeper one. Bilgee rode up next to Chen Zhen, covered his mouth with his sleeve, and said in a more relaxed voice, “You need to train your ears if you want to become a decent hunter. Wolves’ hearing is even keener than their vision.”

Chen also covered his mouth with his sleeve and asked, “Aren’t you afraid the wolves will hear us now?”

The old man whispered, “We’re on a mountain slope, and the sound can’t travel to the other side. There’s also a headwind, so we’re safe if we keep our voices down.”

“Papa,” Chen asked, “can you really lead us to the appointed spot by hearing alone?”

“No,” the old man replied. “Memory is the other factor. I listen to my horses’ hooves to see what kind of ground we’re on, if it’s sandy or rocky under the snow, and I can tell where we are. And to keep from losing my way, I feel how the wind is hitting my face. I also smell things. In other words, I travel with the wind and the smells. The wind carries smells of snow, grass, sand, saltpeter, alkali, wolves, foxes, horse dung, and the camp. Sometimes there are no odors at all, and then I have to rely on my ears and my memory. Your Papa could find the way if the night turned even darker.”

Chen sighed. “How long will it take me to learn how to do all that, Papa?” he asked.

They crossed the peak and moved down onto a flat, vast grazing area, where Bilgee picked up the pace; the others followed, quickly and quietly. The riders felt like a well-trained cavalry unit on a mission, while in fact they were a ragtag group brought together at a moment’s notice, one that included some of the old, the weak, women, and children.

The tension increased as they neared their appointed spot. It had not been long since the wolf pack had taken the first round with its stunning annihilation of the herd of warhorses; now, as the Olonbulag grasslanders were about to throw everything they had against the enemy, whether or not they would even the score was still in doubt. Chen began to worry that launching a surprise attack and an encirclement array against the wolves, with their superior sense of smell, and at night—their favorite time to fight—was like an apprentice showing off before his master. In the past, large-scale hunts had been organized yearly, and had always ended with no more than partial success, half the encirclements coming up empty. The head of the transport section had said sarcastically, “Encirclement hunt, encirclement hunt, a donkey with one ball, always wide of the mark.”

Given the disastrous slaughter of the warhorses, if the hunt fell short this time, the pasture leadership would likely be replaced. Headquarters personnel had said that their superiors were preparing to transfer officials from communes that had enjoyed success in killing off wolves to reinforce the Olonbulag leadership. That was why Uljii, Bilgee, and the horse herders were determined to crush the arrogance of the Olonbulag wolf pack. At the mobilization meeting, Bilgee had said, “This time we’d better be prepared to deliver at least a dozen pelts of big wolves. If we don’t, we might as well bring in hunters from other communes to run things here.”

The night was getting darker, and colder. The oppressive frigid air and encompassing darkness nearly took their breath away. Yang Ke rode up to Chen Zhen and whispered in his ear, “When we spread out, the gaps between us will be so big that we won’t be able to see the wolves when they slip past our horses’ hooves. I wonder what Bilgee has up his sleeve.” Yang stuck his head up his wide sleeve to check the time on his luminescent wristwatch. “We’ve been on the road for more than two hours,” he said. “About time to split up, don’t you think?”

Chen leaned over and stuck his face up Yang’s sleeve until he could read the dial on the old Swiss watch. He rubbed his eyes as his fears grew.