In article <a3ke241osug7f4mkihrj1kfng0rvq9gm49@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>,
Pip R. Lagenta <morbiusatwork@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> wrote:
>On Fri, 9 May 2008 11:12 +0100 (BST), prd@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
(Paul
>Dormer) wrote:
>>One thing the map does say about Scotland is that "Here there are
>>many wolves". Apparently, the medieval bestiary considered the wolf
>>the beast of the devil. What you should do if confronted by one was
>>to take off all your clothes and put them in a pile. Stand on the
>>pile and knock two rocks together. Taking off your clothes reveals
>>your sins to the animal, and the sound of the rocks summons the
>>Apostles.
>
>If I ever meet a wolf, my plan is to give a cookie to the wolf. Of
>course, then the wolf is going to want a glass of milk.
I met a wolf once. She came up to me, and then suddenly reared up on
her hind legs. Having been briefed on the possibility, I whipped my
left arm up, the lower arm horizontal in front of my mouth. She
dropped her forepaws on it, so I'm seeing paw, FACE, paw, and we
stared at each other for a few moments. Then she licked my face. She
apparently didn't mind the taste of sunscreen, but after a few seconds
she dropped down to the ground and wandered off. The staffer then
called over Apollo, aka Pillow, for some head rubs and belly rubs.
It's really a giggle seeing a fat wolf sitting upright, getting his
fat belly rubbed, having a blissed-out goofy expression on his face,
bunny-thumping both hind feet.
I suspect that, had I taken off my clothes, the wolves would have
started tugging at them and running around with them as big chew
toys. Plus the staffer would have been offended, I think.
ObSF: Wolf Park (the research and public education facility in
question) is at Battle Ground, Indiana, as in Prophetstown.
Those who sponsor a wolf can go in with their wolf under certain
conditions (health, size, physical condition, temper of the wolf, et
cetera).
--
Tim McDaniel, tmcd@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
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