I Saw Wolves Where There Are Allegedly No Wolves
Living Happy
The steady hum of commuter traffic from Ellsworth and inland Hancock County to Mount Desert Island and Acadia National Park was enough to bore any motorist travelling on Route 3 through Trenton, Maine. But my Subaru’s funky noise kept me on edge. That, plus, I was heading to work with a boss who liked to invite me on dates and change the words to songs like “Pop Goes the Weasel” to feature me. All around the Carrie bush, the monkey chased the weasel, all day long.
I needed to leave that job.
Soon.
That was what was going through my head as I rounded the corner past the falling down, asbestos-sided buildings that used to be Romer’s Farm. The woods and marsh of Trenton was to my right. The Jordan River was to my left. But my whole focus was on right in front of me.
A swear, worthy of my boss, left my lips as a canine ran across the two-lane highway in front of me. It was big—bigger than my Great Pyrenees—and its muzzle was boxy.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “That was a wolf.”
Two seconds later, as I was looking into my rearview mirror, another one ran behind my car.
There are allegedly no wolves in Maine. There used to be, but we poisoned and trapped them all away. That’s what everyone told me when I asked. And I knew this already, but what I saw was convincing me otherwise.
So, the rest of the twenty-minute ride to work, I was positive that what I saw was not a coyote.
When I got to work, I told our office administrator who sat at the front desk of the building that is now a French bistro.
“We have a lot of coyotes,” she said.
“I don’t think it was a coyote.”
“No wolves in Maine.”
“Yep.”
I went through to the news room and then I told my boss.
He raised an eyebrow and said in his I-know-everything voice. “You know it was a coyote.”
“It was not a coyote,” I announced, putting my things on my desk. “It’s muzzle was wrong.”
“Oh, and how was its muzzle wrong, staff wildlife expert?” he asked, standing right up against my desk now that I was sitting at it, penning me in, tone all condescending.
“Its muzzle was broad. It was not narrow.”
“It was probably a couple of huskies then. Huskies are always getting loose,” he said.
I did not think it was a husky. Its muzzle was too long. The fur on its cheeks hadn’t looked right. The ears were more offset, not right on top of the head. I said all of this.
“Maybe a hybrid then,” he said.
That those dogs could have been wolves was impossible to him, to everyone.
“I’m going to call the Maine game service,” I say.
“Ha. Good luck with that.”
And he moved away, taking his smell of stale cigarettes and Old Spice deodorant with him.
Only two people believed me, a guy who hunted a lot in the Maine woods and one of my dads. I think both of them believed me because they knew how much I loved learning about the woods and tracks and wildlife. I think they believed me because they were open to possibility.
I eventually stopped telling people because saying that I saw a wolf—maybe—gathered me as many looks as people who said they saw ghosts or Big Foot or UFOs.
But I still believed in my truth. I saw two animals that looked a heck of a lot like wolves. I didn’t give up on believing what I saw—no matter how many people tried to tell me to.
That matters. Believing in myself and my knowledge was not necessarily important about wolves in Trenton, Maine, but it is important to a person’s success and happiness. Even mine.
There’s an article in Psychology Today by Tchiki Davis, Ph.D., where she writes,
“When we believe in ourselves, it can help us achieve our goals, manifest our dreams, and increase our well-being. But the flip side is also true. Lack of belief in ourselves means we are less likely to act, to change, or to push to make things better. In fact, when we expect we will fail, we are actually more likely to fail.”
That’s not easy for some of us and even for those of us who might believe in different things (like seeing a wolf in the wild), it might not always be true or easy about all facets of our lives.
Believing in yourself is tied to:
Self-worth
Self-confidence d judgment.
Self-trust
Autonomy
Environmental mastery
Belief in yourself can be cultivated. Davis says that two keys are reducing your critical self-talk and building up your own trust in yourself.
How do you do that? She has tips.
“Do what you say you're going to do. Maybe this means reducing your number of commitments, learning to say "no," or setting stronger boundaries. Experiment if you need to see what you need to do to stick to your word.
Be honest with yourself. Engage in self-reflection to get to the truth of what you really think, feel, and need in life. Try not to focus so much on what other people want you to do.
Do what you believe is right. Live your values and follow your inner compass. If you're on a path that is true to you, then it'll likely be easier to believe in your ability to walk it.
Be clear. Get clearer about who you are and what you want. Know the things you are willing to do and the things you are not. That way you can trust yourself to make good decisions and communicate them effectively.”
It’s not always easy to believe in yourself, to be kind to yourself, especially when the world seems to disagree with what you’ve experienced, but it’s so important. And if you see a wolf? Let me know.