Wolf Totem: A Novel (24 page)

He cocked his head to see if he could hear anything. No sound; either the cubs were asleep or they’d already developed the ability to hide from danger, keeping absolutely still in reaction to unfamiliar sounds. Suddenly feeling dizzy, he summoned up the strength to jerk his tethered leg. Worried and excited at the same time, Yang pulled with all his might and managed to drag Chen back out of the hole. His face covered with dirt, Chen sat weakly in the opening sucking in big gulps of air. “No way,” he said to Yang. “It’s a fiendish cave that goes on forever.” With a look of disappointment, Yang draped Chen’s deel around his shoulders.

After Chen had rested, they scoured the area within a couple of hundred yards for half an hour, and found only one large exit, which they stopped up with rocks. Once they’d sealed up both openings, they stuffed dirt into the cracks and packed it in tight. Just before returning to camp, Chen, still fuming over his failure, stuck the business end of his spade in the dirt around the main entrance as a sign to the female: They’d bring more people back the next day, and more effective methods.

The sun was going down, and Erlang still hadn’t returned. The dog’s courage and ferocity might not have been sufficient to deal with a wolf so sinister and so cunning, and the two men were anxious and concerned. But they couldn’t wait, and would have to head back with Yellow. Just before they reached camp, when the sky was pitch-black, Chen handed his tools to Yang, telling him to take Yellow home and let Gao Jianzhong know that everything was okay. Then he reined his horse to the side and rode off to Bilgee’s yurt.

10

The old man smoked his pipe and said nothing as he listened to Chen Zhen relate their adventure. Then he reproached him angrily, mainly over their use of the firecrackers, unaware of how powerful and effective they were. After tapping the cover of his pipe bowl, he stroked his beard and said, “That was cruel, unforgivably cruel. You drove her out of her den. You Chinese, with your powerful firecrackers, didn’t even give her time to stop up the entrance with dirt. Mongolian wolves fear gunpowder more than anything. If you’d used those things in a den with a litter of cubs, they’d have tried to escape, and you’d have caught them all, and at that rate it wouldn’t take long for all the wolves on the grassland to vanish. We kill wolves, but not like that. If we did, Tengger would be angry, and that would be the end of the grassland. Don’t ever do that again, and don’t tell the horse herders or anybody else what you did. I don’t want them learning such terrible things from you.”

Unprepared for the tongue-lashing, Chen realized the possible consequences of their action. With widespread use, the concussion waves and smoke from the explosions would overwhelm even the impregnable den fortifications. “We don’t celebrate holidays with fireworks out here,” Bilgee continued. “The migrants and you students brought them with you. We have strict controls over ammunition, but we were unprepared for an influx of firecrackers, for which there are no restrictions. A large-scale introduction of firecrackers, gunpowder, pepper powder, and tear gas could threaten the survival of the wolves, which have dominated the grassland for thousands of years. Out here, where nomadic existence is the norm, there’s nothing more destructive than gunpowder. And once a people’s totem is demolished, their spirit dies. The grassland, on which we rely for our very existence, could easily perish.”

Chen wiped his sweaty brow, alarmed by what he was hearing. “Don’t be angry, Papa. I swear to Tengger that we’ll never again use explosives in a wolf’s den, and I promise we won’t teach anyone else how to do it. On the grassland, a man’s word counts for everything.”

The muscles in the old man’s face relaxed. “I know you fight the wolves to protect your flock and the horses,” he said to Chen, “but protecting the grassland is more important than protecting livestock. Youngsters and horse herders seem to be having a contest to see who can kill the most wolves. They don’t understand what they’re doing. All you hear on the radio is how heroic the wolf killers are. Things are only going to get worse for us from here on out.”

Gasmai handed Chen a bowl of lamb noodles and made a special point of placing some pickled leek buds in front of him. She knelt by the stove and handed the old man a bowl of noodles. “People these days pretty much turn a deaf ear to what Papa has to say,” she said. “He tells them not to kill wolves, but then does it himself, and that keeps them from putting stock in what he says.”

The old man smiled bitterly and took the bowl from his daughter-in-law. “How about you?” he asked Chen. “Do you put stock in what I say?”

“I do, I honestly do. Without the wolves, the grassland dies. There’s a country far, far off to the southeast, called Australia. They have grassland there too, and there never used to be any wolves or rabbits. But then someone introduced rabbits into the country, and since there were no wolves, the rabbits reproduced like mad, littering the countryside with their burrows, holes all over the place; eating up most of the vegetation; and creating enormous losses for the livestock farmers. The government tried everything they could think of to fix the problem, but nothing worked. Finally they began covering the ground with steel-wire netting that allowed the grass to grow but kept the rabbits from digging out, hoping to starve the rabbit population in their underground burrows. This plan also failed. The grassland was too vast, and the government couldn’t lay out enough netting to cover it all. I used to think that the Mongolian grasslands were so lush that there must be vast numbers of rabbits. But then I came to the Olonbulag and saw that the rabbit population was actually quite small. A major contribution by the wolves, I take it. When I’m tending my flock, I often see them catch rabbits, and when there are two working together, they never miss.”

The old man seemed caught up in his own thoughts, but his eyes grew gentle as he murmured, “Australia, Australia, Australia. Bring a map with you tomorrow. I want to see this place for myself. Then the next time someone says they want to wipe out our wolf population, I’ll tell them about Australia. Rabbits are a scourge. They have many litters a year, far more than wolves. When winter comes, marmots and field mice close up their burrows and hibernate, but rabbits never stop looking for food. Still, they feed the wolves during the winter and thereby keep the wolves from killing our sheep. Wolves can’t eat all the rabbits, but they eat enough so that we’re not stepping in a rabbit hole every three paces.”

“I’ll bring a world map tomorrow,” Chen assured him. “You can study it all you want.”

“All right. You’ve worn yourself out the past few days, so go home and get some rest.” When he saw that Chen was hesitant about leaving, he said, “You want to ask how to get to that litter of cubs, is that it?”

Chen hesitated, then nodded. “It’s my first time, Papa, so you have to tell me how to do it.”

“I don’t mind telling you,” Bilgee said, “but it’s not something I want you to do often.”

“Of course,” Chen promised.

The old man took a drink of tea and smiled mysteriously. “If you hadn’t come to me, you’d never get your hands on that litter of cubs. First of all, give the mother wolf a reprieve. Don’t pass the point of no return in matters like this.”

“Are you telling me I’ll never get my hands on them?” Chen asked anxiously.

The smile left the old man’s face. “Well, you tossed explosives into the first tunnel and crawled into the second. You left your smell inside and sealed up both holes. She’ll move tonight, that’s for sure. She’ll dig another hole and tunnel her way in. Then she’ll bring out her cubs, one at a time, and deposit them for safety in a temporary den. In a few days she’ll find a new permanent den, someplace humans will never find.”

Chen’s heart was beating wildly. “Is this temporary den somewhere that can be found?” he asked.

“Not by people, but maybe by dogs. That yellow dog and a couple of the black ones ought to do it. By the look of things, you’re not going to be talked out of it.”

“Papa,” Chen said, “why don’t you go with me tomorrow? Yang Ke says that the wolf has tricked him enough already.”

“I have to go up north to check the traps,” the old man said with a little laugh. “We caught a wolf last night, but I haven’t touched it. The wolves up north have returned. They’re hungry, so I might remove all the traps tomorrow. I think you should rest up the next couple of days to get ready for the hunt. We can take care of this other matter after the hunt.”

Chen blanched, and the old man noticed.

“Or,” he said more agreeably, “you and Yang Ke go check things out tomorrow. The wolf smells will be strong, so let the dogs sniff around, and I’m sure you’ll find it. New dens aren’t very deep. If she moved her litter to another old tunnel, they’ll be out of reach. Luck plays a role in stealing wolf cubs. If you can’t get to them, I’ll go take a look. I won’t let Bayar crawl into a den unless I’m there.”

Bayar, exuding confidence, said, “I could wriggle through the hole you found. If you’d taken me with you today, you’d have your cubs by now.”

Yang Ke was waiting for Chen when he arrived back at the yurt. Chen reported Bilgee’s conclusions and recommendations, but that did little to ease Yang’s concerns.

A burst of intense barks woke Chen in the middle of the night, and he knew that somehow Erlang had made it back home, that no wolf pack had gotten him. He could hear his powerful footfalls outside the yurt as he took up his guard duties. He should have fed him and tended to his injuries, but he was so tired he rolled over and, as soon as Erlang stopped barking, fell back to sleep.

When Chen awoke the next morning, Yang Ke, Gao Jianzhong, and Dorji were sitting around the stove drinking tea and eating slices of meat as they discussed the theft of the cubs. Dorji, a cowherd with Team Three, was a clever and experienced man of twenty-four or twenty-five who had come back to herd cattle after graduating from middle school. He doubled as the brigade’s bookkeeper and was a hunter of renown. Yang Ke had invited him over out of concern that they would once again fail or would run into danger. Dorji would be their adviser and bodyguard. He was a cautious hunter, one who never loosed his hawk until he saw a rabbit, and his presence greatly enhanced the chance of getting the cubs.

Chen rolled out of bed, got dressed, and greeted Dorji. “I hear you wormed your way into a wolf’s den,” Dorji said with a smile. “Be extra careful from now on. Now that she’s picked up your smell, she’ll come after you no matter where you go.”

That came as such a surprise that Chen got all tangled up in his down coat. “Does that mean I’ll have to kill her, so she won’t kill me one day?”

“I was just teasing. Wolves are afraid of humans. Even if she picks up your scent, she won’t dare get too close. If they were that good, I’d have been eaten long ago. I went into a tunnel once when I was thirteen or fourteen and brought out a litter of cubs. And I’m still around, aren’t I?”

Chen relaxed. “You must have killed a lot of wolves over the years.”

“Sixty or seventy, I guess, not counting cubs. With them you’d have to add seven or eight litters.”

“Seven or eight—that makes fifty or sixty cubs, so altogether a hundred and twenty or thirty wolves. Haven’t they ever tried to square accounts with you?”

“Of course they have. Over the past ten years, wolves have killed seven or eight of our dogs, and too many sheep to count.”

“If you kill off all the wolves, what will you do with your dead?”

“We Yimeng Mongols are like you: we don’t feed our dead to the wolves; we bury them in coffins. The Mongols here are backward.’

“The Tibetans feed their dead to eagles. Here it’s wolves. If you kill off all the wolves, won’t the locals hate you?”

“You can’t kill off all the Olonbulag wolves. The government tells us to hunt them, saying that each wolf killed saves a hundred sheep and each litter of cubs taken saves ten flocks. If you think I’ve killed a lot of wolves, you should see the champion wolf hunter of the Bayan Gobi Commune. One spring a couple of years ago, he brought out five litters of cubs, almost as many as I’ve managed over a decade. Lots of people from outside live in Bayan Gobi, including Mongols from Manchuria, and many of us hunt wolves. That’s why there are fewer wolves there than here.”

“How’s their livestock production?” Chen asked.

“Not as good as here. Their grazing land is inferior, because there are so many rabbits and field mice.”

Chen finished putting on his coat and went outside to look at Erlang, who was eating a skinned lamb. In the springtime a lamb died from injury or sickness or the cold every few days, and they were fed to the dogs, which wouldn’t eat them before they were skinned. Chen saw that he kept looking over at the lambs as they frolicked in the pen while he ate. Chen called him, but instead of looking up, he remained sprawled on the ground, his tail waving slightly. Yellow and Yir, on the other hand, came running over and laid their paws on his shoulders. Yang and the others had already treated Erlang’s injuries, but he kept trying to remove the bandages with his teeth so that he could lick his wounds himself. Going back up the mountain was not going to be a problem with this spirited animal.

After breakfast, Chen went to the neighboring yurt to ask Gombu to watch the flock for him. Seeing that Chen and Yang were determined to lay their hands on a litter of cubs, Gao Jianzhong also appeared to get the itch, so he asked Gombu’s son to watch his flock for the day. On the Olonbulag, stealing a litter of wolf cubs brought glory to anyone who could manage it.

The four men set out for Black Rock Mountain with their tools and weapons, a day’s provisions, and two dogs. A cold front came at them like an avalanche, but left like silk from a cocoon. Four or five days had passed without the sun breaking through the thick cloud cover; on the gloomy grassland, herders’ faces gradually gave up their wintry purple hue in the spring and turned ruddy red. New grass beneath the snow turned yellow, slowly, like hotbed chives under a blanket, showing no trace of green. Not even the sheep would eat it. Dorji’s face creased in a smile as he looked up at the puffy clouds and said, “The frozen ground has kept food out of the wolves’ bellies for some time. Last night the barracks dogs were barking ferociously, and it’s a sure bet that the pack has returned.”