Call of the Wild

Yesterday, my family and I spent the afternoon at the Phoenix Zoo. The desert climate was absolutely perfect in late January with mild temperatures and light wispy clouds drifting aloft in the upper atmosphere. As we passed the myriad species of mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and flora, I began to wax metaphorical. I thought (deeply), "We are like these animals (monkeys, wolves, spiders), confined by our sinful natures (bars, cages, pens)." But then I stopped thinking deeply. We are actually like the humans (Rob, Jimmy, Jocelyn) walking about the zoo peering into the cages of the monkeys, wolves, and spiders. We are free to roam about in our nearly perfect habitats and peer inquisitively into the somewhat tragic and always interesting half-lives of many of earth's residents. Yes, there are the lost living in their self imposed, sometimes congenital, and other times adopted chains and shackles. But there are also the terrible, the cunning, the powerful creatures who ascend heights, climb seemingly insurmountable pinnacles, and bound across limitless chasms-all to the thrill and delight of us earth-bound denizens.

As my wife and I strolled hand-in-hand, following behind our teen, I remembered a dream I had. In this dream, I was sitting around the glowing hearth in my home with a distinguished pipe between my teeth and a glass of something very civilized in my hand. As the vision continues, I am drawn away from the warm fire by the faint cry of something yet untamed out in the dark of night. Intrigued, I wipe the condensation from the inside of the window to peer into the black night. After searching the landscape, I am unable to distinguish the shape lurking just beyond the my property line. To my dismay, something inside me wants to follow the beckoning apparition into the night, yet I am restrained by my will to remain beside the life-giving fire within my home.

Much like Jack London's White Fang, each of us hears that call of the wild. Wrestling with our nature, we choose between a life driven by instinct and the taste of flesh and the life characterized by loving those around us and self sacrifice. For me, the call is more alluring some times than others. Thankfully, I usually remain faithfully at the side of my master, but when the nature masters me, I find myself panting after the prints of the pack as they lead me into the night. There they await me, fur and fang, in pursuit of the flesh of our quarry. Then, with dawn's light returns the exiled conscience, like the man bitten by the wolf. Only this man really is not cursed to spend his nights baying at the moon and craving after flesh, but has been saved from his nocturnal wanderings. A silver bullet is not part of his destiny.

The zoo was great. I plan to return soon and hopefully catch the Mexican Wolf strolling about his pen before he succombs to his afternoon nap. Yes, wolves have always been my favorite.