One spring morning some years ago,I had been searching for gold along Coho Creek on southeastern Alaska's Kupreanof Island,and as I emerged from a forest,I froze in my tracks.No more than 20 paces in the bog(沼泽)was a huge Alaskan timber wolf—caught in one of Trapper George's traps.

Confused and frightened at my approach,the wolf backed away.It was a female.Somewhere there was a den（兽穴）of hungry pups(幼小动物)waiting for their mother.

From her appearance,I guessed that she had been trapped for only a few days.That meant her baby wolves were probably still alive.But I suspected that if I tried to release the wolf,she would attack me and try to tear me to pieces.

So I decided to search for her babies instead and began to look for tracks that might lead me to her den.Fortunately,there was still a little remaining snow.After several moments,I spotted pups' marks on a trail.

The tracks led a half mile through the forest,and then up a slope covered with many rocks.I finally spotted the den at the base of an enormous spruce.There wasn't a sound inside.Wolf pups are shy and cautious,and I didn't have much hope of inviting them outside.But I had to try.So I began copying the high-pitched(声音尖锐的)sound of a mother wolf calling her young.No response.A few moments later,after I tried another call,four tiny pups appeared.They couldn't have been more than a few weeks old.

I extended my hands.They tentatively sucked at my fingers.Perhaps hunger had helped overcome their natural fear.Then one by one,I placed them in a fur bag and headed back down the slope.When the mother wolf spotted me,she stood up right.Possibly picking up the smell of her young,she let out a sad whine.I released the pups,and they raced to her.Within seconds,they were to-gether.

With her young to protect,she was becoming aggressive.What next?I wondered.So tender were the pups that it was impossible for them to survive without their mother's protection.Hence,I had to release her.I fetched an iron bar.Using a rock as the supporting point,I unlocked the chain.After gaining freedom,she howled at me with her head low showing gratitude.Watching the mother and her pups disappear in the forest,I let out a sigh of relief.

Four years later,after serving in World War Ⅱ,I returned to Coho Creek.It was the fall of 1945.After the horrors of the war,it was good to be back among the soaring spruce and breathe the familiar,bracing air of the Alaskan bush.Then I saw,in the near distance was a mother wolf.The sight of it gave me a strange feeling,and something made me climb Kuprean of Mountain to the meadow where I had last seen her.There,standing on a lofty ledge,I gave out a long,low wolf call—something I had done many times before.

An echo came back across the distance.Again,I called.And again,the echo spread.A little to my surprise,this time it was followed by a wolf call from a ridge（山脊）about a half-mile away.

Then,far off,I saw a dark shape moving slowly in my direction.As it crossed the meadow,I could see it was a timber wolf.A chill spread through my whole body.I knew at once that familiar shape,even after four years.“Hello,old girl,” I called gently.The wolf edged closer,ears up,body tense,and stopped a few yards off,her bushy tail wagging slightly.Moments later,the wolf was gone.I left Kuprean of Island a short time after that,and I never saw the animal again.But the memory she left with me—vivid,haunting,a little cautious,will always be there as a reminder that there are things in nature that exist outside the laws and understanding of man.During that brief instant in time,this injured animal and I had somehow penetrated（渗透）each other's worlds,bridging barriers that were never meant to be bridged.

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