Wild Animal Stories by Seton

Author: Seton
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2003-03-01
Features: In the autumn of 1884, we closed the small log cabin at DeWinton Farm, and Bingo moved his home to a more settled place, which meant moving into the cowshed of our close neighbor, Gordon Light, rather than into their house. From the winter when he was still a small puppy, he never wanted to go inside except during thunderstorms. He was very afraid of thunder and guns—in no doubt, he feared the gunshots because he also feared thunder, and he feared guns because he had experienced some unpleasant things related to guns, the reasons for which I will reveal later. He always rested outside the cowshed at night, even in cold weather, so it was clear that he loved his nighttime freedom and lack of restraint. Bingo's night roams extended far across the open land for several miles. There was much evidence to prove this. Farmers living far away sent messages to Gordon saying that if he didn't keep Bingo tied up at home at night, they would deal with him with a gun. Bingo's fear of guns showed that their threats were no joke. A man living as far away as Peterborough said he had seen a large black wolf killing a jackal in the snow one winter night, but he later retracted and said, "I suppose it was probably Light's dog." Whenever there were the bodies of cows or horses killed in the winter left out in the open, Bingo would always rush out at night, drive away all the wolves, and enjoy a hearty meal for himself. Sometimes, the target of the night raid was merely to beat a neighbor's dog, and despite the threat of retaliation, there seemed to be no reason to worry that dogs like Bingo would go extinct. Someone even openly claimed to have seen a she-wolf leading three wolf cubs that looked exactly like her, except that the cubs were quite large, all black, with a white ring between their nose and mouth. Whether this was true or not, in late March, when we went out in a sleigh, Bingo ran behind us. A wolf, startled, ran out of a hollow. It ran away together with Bingo, but the wolf didn't put much effort into escaping. It didn't run far before it was cornered by Bingo. However, strangely, the two animals did not fight or struggle. Bingo ran gently alongside the wolf, even licking its nose. We were shocked and yelled at Bingo to speed up. We called out several times, getting closer to them, scaring the wolf away quickly. Bingo then chased it again until he caught up, but his gentleness toward the wolf was obvious. "It's a she-wolf, he won't hurt her," I exclaimed, finally understanding the truth. Gordon said, "Oh, I should be dead." That's how we called our reluctant dog back and continued our journey. In the following weeks, a wolf frequently troubled us, disturbing our peace. It killed chickens, stole pork from the house, and on several occasions, climbed up to the windows of the small cabin while the adults were away to scare the children. It seemed that Bingo couldn't stop the wolf from bothering us. In the end, the wolf—a she-wolf—was shot and killed, and later, Bingo