A Wolf Named Nahani
Adventure to Hazelton
It all began on the peaceful shores of Nakinilerak Lake, situated between Takla Lake to the east, and Babine Lake to the west; the lake country in the north-central wilderness in British Columbia; and a tiny village in southern Germany. How are the two connected, you may wonder? It was in that small German village that a mother was surrounded by her young children. In her lap the mother held a book, reading the incredible story of a wolf named Nahani.
It was in July of 1964, when a young man named Gregory Tah-Kloma sat by his campsite close to a creek running into the lake. He had been looking for gold in this area, when a man in his canoe stopped. This stranger told him about a dangerous wolf named Nahani, roaming the forests, killing man and beast alike; the great silver she-wolf belonging to the deadliest wolf pack in all of Canada. Tah-Kloma had never heard of her, and asked why he should be afraid of wolves.
The man was shocked and asked if he was armed; while at the same time eyeing his gold pan and campsite. Tah-Kloma did not want to admit to this stranger that he never carried a gun on him, so instead he replied, “I’m prepared to defend myself.” Tah-Kloma did not like the fact that a bounty was set on Nahani’s head. The strangers’ visit set in motion an exciting trend of thoughts. Who was this Nahani? And would he be able to find her, before the bounty hunters got to her?
Tah-Kloma’s past experience with wolves indicated they weren’t as dangerous as this stranger painted them to be. In fact, Tah-Kloma remembered a Canadian newspaper had for years offered a substantial amount of cash for any documented record of a wolf having attacked a human being without provocation. No one ever claimed that money. That thought was consoling on a dark and rainy night, for Tah-Kloma was alone and unarmed.
A few nights later, as Tah-Kloma stared into the orange plumes of sweet balsam and cascara bark burning, he had the feeling of being watched. As he scanned the surrounding bushes across the campfire, he saw the largest, most aristocratic wolf he had ever seen. She had to be Nahani. Her coat glistened like burnished silver. She stared back at him intently for several moments, then retreated into the dark aisles of spruce and aspen – disappearing as silently as an owl. Tah-Kloma was shocked at first, but then realized that she had showed no sign of aggression – only curiosity. That was Tah-Kloma’s first encounter with Nahani, the silver wolf.
Over the next few days, he gained their trust slowly, and Tah-Kloma saw more and more of Nahani and her pack. Something clicked between Tah-Kloma and the wolf. When their eyes met, an irresistible friendship formed. After a week, Nahani came to sit beside him by his campsite, and they both sat, staring into the fiery flames, listening to the sounds of the night. Nahani continued visiting Tah-Kloma every late evening, and both just sat in complete silence, a bonding of trust evolving between the two.
Over the next two years, Tah-Kloma moved with the pack as soon as the snow melted until the cold fall days, before snow settled on the ground. Nahani completely trusted Tah-Kloma, who by now was allowed to touch the phenomenal female leader. Tah-Kloma was able to move the pack further and further towards the northern borders of British Columbia, away from the bounty hunters.
In the last days of October, 1967, Nahani and Tah-Kloma huddled together one last time, listening to the fall of snowflakes. Proud and regal, Nahani allowed Tah-Kloma to embrace her. After licking his face and hands, Nahani raised her muzzle and howled softly. She left the shelter and led her pack across the north shore. Tah-Kloma knew she was heading for the Yukon. This was his last entry into his journal: “Returned to the lean-to. Cut skein of hair from my temple. Threw it into the fire as my ancestors the Ancient Ones once did. Thanked Gitchie Manito for having granted me the privilege of knowing that wolf.”
Years later we moved back to Canada, making our home in the Okanagan of British Columbia. Nahani never left me; its story buried deep into my heart. I had made myself a promise, that one day I would want to visit Hazelton. More years passed. Hardship and inconceivable loss and pain that no parent ever wants to be confronted with happened within three years of each other. It was a dark and lonely time, full of grief. Yet, through this time of pain, a new spark of hope ignited within my heart. I somehow knew we were not meant to stay where we were; but at the same time had absolutely no clue where we were supposed to move to. I petitioned my heavenly father over and over in prayer, asking for wisdom and guidance.
One day, as I browsed through the Morning Star Newspaper, an ad caught my eye. Someone was advertising a house in Hazelton. The name stuck out like a red flashing sign. As I looked up the website, only one picture appeared of the house for sale. One picture that decided our destiny. Andreas and I drove way up north, into the vast wilderness of British Columbia. We looked at the house, and fell in love with the mountains in Hazelton and surrounding area. There was absolutely no doubt in our minds that this was to be our new home.
I couldn’t believe how so many years ago I had read the story of Nahani and felt a connection to her and the area she called home. How everything had started in Hazelton and how we were meant to have a new beginning in Nahani’s country. I often glance into the deep woods behind our house. I can almost see Nahani’s silvery coat shimmering through the thick branches. I see her smile, and her kind eyes assure me that this is the right place.
