Wolf Totem: A Novel (56 page)

“That’s a high mortality rate. No wonder horse herders hate the wolves with such passion.”

Chen fell silent as he started to make wrappings.

Zhang washed his hands to help Chen make the buns. “But we can’t do without them,” he continued, “no matter how tired we are or how hard the work is. Batu says that the quality of the horses would drop without the wolves, that they’d get fat and lazy, unable to run. Mongol horses are short to begin with, and they wouldn’t command a good price without speed and stamina, since the military wouldn’t use them as warhorses. Also, the herd would grow too fast without wolves. Just think, a herd can have over a hundred foals each year, a twenty or thirty percent growth if most of them survived. Each year there would be new mares ready to give birth, which means the growth rate would be even higher. The number of horses in a herd would double after three or four years. Under normal circumstances, we only sell four- or five-year-old horses and keep the younger ones. Uljii says that except for rodents and rabbits, horses do more damage to the pasture than any other animal. A Mongol horse can consume enough grass to feed several cows, even a hundred sheep. The herdsmen complain that horses are taking the grass away from the sheep. If we didn’t control the growth of the horse herd, in a few years the cows and sheep would have no grass and the Olonbulag would become a desert.”

Chen hit the chopping board with his rolling pin and said, “So the herders use the wolves to conduct birth control for the horses, while raising or maintaining their quality, is that it?”

“Yes. The grasslanders are the best practitioners of dialectic materialism and are good at ‘the middle way,’ unlike the Han Chinese, who prefer extremes. We promote the east wind overpowering the west wind, or vice versa. But here they’re experts in making use of contradictions to strike a balance while achieving two goals with one action.”

“But this kind of controlled balance is cruel,” Chen replied. “In the spring the horse herders raid wolf dens, taking and killing a hundred, even two hundred cubs, without completely killing them off. In the summer, the tables are turned; the wolves start killing foals, taking seventy or eighty percent of them, since you herders won’t allow them to take all the babies. The price of this controlled balance is blood flowing like a river. It requires the herders to be forever vigilant, always ready for combat. This sort of ‘middle way’ is more combative and more real than the Han Chinese ’middle ground.’ ”

Zhang said, “These days, all the officials are from farming areas. They know nothing about life on the grassland. All they care about is quantity, quantity, quantity. In the end, they’ll lose everything by being single-minded. No more wolves, no more demand for the Mongol horses, nothing but yellow sand rolling over the Inner Mongolian grassland; the cows and sheep will die of starvation, and we’ll all go back to Beijing.”

“You wish. Historically, Beijing has been taken more than once by Mongol armies, who then made it their capital. The city can’t even hold back the horses, so how can it stand up against the sand, a new yellow peril that is thousands of times more powerful?”

“We can’t do anything about that,” Zhang replied. “Millions of peasants keep having babies and reclaiming the land. The population equal to an entire province is born every year. Who can stop all those people from coming to the grassland?”

Chen sighed. “No one, which is why I worry.”

Zhang added, “I have a soft spot in my heart for the Quanrong and the Huns, both outstanding races. They were the ones who created the wolf totem, a tradition that has existed ever since.”

“The wolf totem has a much longer history than Han Confucianism, ” said Chen, “with greater natural continuity and vitality. In the Confucian thought system, the main ideas, such as the three cardinal guides and the five constant virtues, are outdated and decayed, but the central spirit of the wolf totem remains vibrant and young, since it’s been passed down by the most advanced races in the world. It should be considered one of the truly valuable spiritual heritages of all humanity. There’d be hope for China if our national character could be rebuilt by cutting away the decaying parts of Confucianism and grafting a wolf totem sapling onto it. It could be combined with such Confucian traditions as pacifism, an emphasis on education, and devotion to study. It’s a shame the wolf totem is a spiritual system with a scant written record. The fatal weakness of the grassland race is its backwardness in written culture. Chinese Confucian scholars and historians were not interested in recording the culture of the wolf totem, even though they were in contact with grassland races for thousands of years. I wonder if Confucian scholars, who hated wolves with a passion, intentionally deleted everything related to wolves from the history books. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack to read anything about wolf totems in Chinese history books. The books we brought don’t help, so we’ll have to try to find more when we’re back home.”

Zhang added some dried dung to the fire. “One of my relatives is a minor leader in a paper mill, where confiscated books are piled high. The workers roll their cigarettes with pages from traditional thread-bound books that are to be pulped. Anyone who loves books could trade cigarettes for printed classics. I make over seventy yuan a month as a horse herder, a fairly high wage, so I’d be happy to buy cigarettes to trade for books. But since the founding of the country, our government has encouraged people to kill wolves. Those who do so are the new grassland heroes. It won’t take long for the Mongol youths, especially the shepherds and horse herders who have only had an elementary or junior high school education, to be completely ignorant of the wolf totem. So what’s the point of it all?”

Chen took the lid off the pot. “True scientific research has to do with curiosity and interest,” he said, “not whether something is useful or not. Besides, you can’t really say that something is useless if you manage to figure out what it is you didn’t understand at first.” The meaty buns were taken out amid hot steam. Chen tossed one of them from hand to hand to cool it off before taking a bite. “Delicious,” he said. “The next time a foal is injured, make sure you bring it home.”

“The other three yurts want them too, so we take turns.”

“At least bring back the parts bitten by the wolf for me to feed to the cub.” The two friends finished off the buns in one steamer and Chen stood up, utterly sated. “I can’t recall how many times we’ve enjoyed wolf food,” he said. "Let’s go play ’throwing a meat bun at the wolf.’ ”

They waited for the buns to cool before they each grabbed one and happily walked out of the yurt to visit the young wolf.

“Little Wolf, Little Wolf, time to eat,” Chen shouted. Two meat buns gently landed on the wolf’s head and body, sending him scurrying into the cave with his tail between his legs. Yellow and Yir immediately picked up the meat buns. Chen laughed and said, “We’re idiots. He’s never seen a meat bun, so how would he know if it’s good or not? Wolves are naturally distrusting; hell, he doesn’t even trust me. He probably thought they were stones, since the Mongol kids passing by never miss a chance to throw stones at him.”

Zhang walked up to the dugout. “He’s a cute little thing,” he said with a smile. “I can’t wait to pick him up and play with him.”

“He only plays with Yang Ke and me,” said Chen. “We’re the only ones who can pick him up. Gao Jianzhong won’t even touch him, afraid he’ll bite. I don’t think you should try.”

Zhang bent down to get closer to the dugout. “Little Wolf, don’t forget I’m the one who brought you the horsemeat. You’re not the type to forget a friend after he’s fed you, are you?” He called out a few more times, but the cub bared his fangs and refused to come out. Zhang was about to pull on the chain when the cub shot out of his hole, mouth open, ready to bite. Zhang backed off so fast he fell down. Chen wrapped his arm around the cub’s neck to stop him, and then rubbed his head to calm him down.

Brushing the dirt off and standing up, Zhang said, “Not bad. He’s still as ferocious as those in the wild. It’d be no fun if he turned into a dog. I’ll bring him some more horsemeat when I come next time.”

Chen told Zhang about the dangers the little wolf’s howls could bring down on their heads. Zhang returned
The Sea Wolf
and picked up
A History of the World.
“Experience tells me that the wolf pack could be here tonight, so be careful, and don’t let them take our cub away. They’re afraid of explosives, so toss a double-kick firecracker if they break into the sheep flock. Make sure those I got you last time are still dry.”

“Yang Ke wrapped them in wax paper and put them in a wooden box, so they should be dry. A few days ago, he got into a fight with the migrants and lit three of them. Scared the hell out of them.”

Zhang Jiyuan mounted up and rode back to his herd.

26

After dinner, Bao Shungui came to Chen’s yurt from Bilgee’s place and gave Chen and Yang a large flashlight that required six batteries; it was a weapon and a tool that normally only horse herders were qualified to use. The gift was accompanied by a special task: "Flash this light if wolves get close to the sheep; instead of using firecrackers, let your dogs take them on. I’ve already told the others around here to rush over with their dogs as soon as they see your light.

“I didn’t realize that raising this little wolf might work out so well,” Bao said with a smile. “If the mother and the rest of the pack come tonight, we can kill seven or eight of them. Where are you going to find a better opportunity to lure wolves than with one of their own cubs? This time we’ll turn the tables on them. Be careful, you two. One of these lights can blind a person for several minutes, and even longer for wolves. You still have to have your spades and clubs ready, just in case.”

After Chen and Yang gave him their promise, Bao left to pass out instructions to other yurts, forbidding them from firing their weapons, since that would scare away the wolves and could injure people or their animals. Then he rushed off.

The excitement of luring wolves by using one of their own energized the grasslanders, even though the consequences, since this had never been tried before, could not be predicted. A few young herdsmen, whose hatred of wolves ran so deep they had stopped visiting Chen and Yang, now came by to gauge the lay of the land. They seemed unduly interested in this new hunting strategy. “Female wolves are so protective of their cubs,” one of the shepherds said, “they’re sure to come if they know one of them is here. I’d love to see them every night, so we could kill wolves every day.”

“Wolves never fall for the same trick twice,” said a horse herder.

“What if a whole pack attacks?” one of the shepherds asked.

“Our dogs’ll outnumber them,” the herder replied. “And if that’s not enough, we’ll join in with our lights and shouts. We can open fire or set off firecrackers.”

After they’d left, Chen and Yang sat on a felt rug near the cub with heavy hearts, feeling profoundly guilty. “This is so ruthless,” said Yang. “If we succeed in luring the mother wolf, that’ll mean that after raiding her den, we now exploit a mother’s love to kill her. We’ll rue this day for the rest of our lives.”

“I’m beginning to wonder again whether raising this cub was such a good idea,” Chen said, his head bowed low. “Six cubs paid with their lives for this one, and who knows how many more will die. But I can’t stop now. Scientific experimentation is like butchery sometimes. It’s hard on Bilgee, trying to lead the people, too much pressure. He has to endure the sadness of wolves slaughtering the livestock, while feeling the pangs of having to kill wolves. But for the sake of the grassland and the people, he has to do whatever’s necessary to preserve the balance of interdependent relationships. I wish I could ask Tengger to tell the mother wolves not to come tonight, not tonight or tomorrow night. They’d run right into a trap. Give me a little more time and I’ll return the cub to his mother when he’s a bit older.”

Later that night, Bilgee came to check on their battle readiness. He sat with them and silently smoked a pipe. “The horses are going to suffer again when the mosquitoes come in a few days,” he said softly, as if to console them. “If we spare the wolves, we won’t have many ponies left this year, and that won’t please Tengger either.”

“Do you think the mother wolf will come tonight, Papa?” Yang Ke asked.

“Hard to say. I’ve never seen anything as ruthless as luring a mother wolf with a cub raised by humans. Never heard of it either. But Director Bao has ordered us to use him as bait. So many foals died that we’re forced to let him and the horse herders kill a few wolves to vent their anger.”

The old man left and the pasture was quiet, except for the sheep chewing their cud and the occasional flicking sounds of their ears as they tried to drive away the mosquitoes. The first swarms had come quietly, without fanfare, but only a small squadron of recon aircraft; the heavy bombers hadn’t yet appeared.

The men chatted softly some more before turning in. Chen went to bed first, while Yang, staring at his night-glow wristwatch and gripping the large flashlight, kept a watchful eye on the area, his firecracker-stuffed book bag hanging from his neck.

After finishing the horsemeat, the cub sat at the edge of his pen waiting expectantly, stretching the chain taut and pricking up his ears, focused on sounds he longed to hear. His shiny eyes seemed to ears, focused on sounds he longed to hear. His shiny eyes seemed to pierce the mountain ridge; he looked as sad as an orphan yearning for his kin.

The howls came soon after midnight, as the wolves launched a bombardment of noise: a relentless howling from three sides, intended to wear the enemy down. The dogs immediately counterattacked, responding with loud barks. The howling stopped, but it started up again as soon as the dogs went quiet, this time more ferocious than ever. After several rounds, the dogs barked only intermittently, as if there were no immediate danger and also to conserve their voices for a real war.