The male merely looks at the three betas trotting up behind him, all four wolves keeping to their uniform trot. Efficient biological machines, all of them, able to maintain this regular eight kilometer-per-hour pace for most of a day, all days. A pair of twins, one of each gender, and another male who has survived an additional two winters, have joined the alpha male. The old male omega remains back at the rendezvous site with the half dozen scampering, eager, and perpetually curious and playful pups.

The four gray shadows continue their trot. Over these roots, under those branches, their padded feet leaving shallow tracks and mere whispers in the cool ground. They know they are being surveyed by the packs’ feminine leader, who will alert them with a quick but projective bark if their quarry is lost. They just need a close location, a place to observe, to study their prey and check for weaknesses which might prove exploitable. The adult hunters know this exercise, even the younger twins: the most difficult part of hunting is the waiting, the steely patience. All three of the lower-ranking pack members acknowledge their male leader with their own quick glances, and then it is back to waiting, then moving, then waiting more, for they are still learning the art of observing which individuals can be had with the least work. They trust their leaders; they must. Pack survival depends on this mutual trust.

This deceptively simple exercise is nothing less than a biological arms race, to use the human phrasing which will emerge centuries from the day of this hunt. A predator evolves its cunning, its speed, its brain, its natural weapons. Prey species simultaneously develop their keen hearing, sharp noses, agile legs. It is always a contest, part instinct, part desire, part adrenaline-rushing adventure. The roe deer near the meandering Danube are familiar with the wolves, indeed prefer to know their precise whereabouts. The forests make them nervous: too many places for predators to hide. Yet, the forests can conceal deer as well, and there is no shortage of food. These deer must be cautious, as always; drinking from the river itself is both risky and necessary, and this day has been warm. This warmth has made them lethargic and careless.

No more than a glance is necessary from the alpha male to his three underlings to begin the contest of survival anew. The three betas leave their secure positions, spacing themselves out so that twenty body lengths separate them. They demonstrate the discipline of soldiers on a live training exercise, again masking the sounds of their large feet. They must get closer to have a chance; otherwise, they return to the waiting game with their ungulate ambitions too far away to serve as dinner.

The alpha female surveys all of this with those haunting eyes. If eyes are truly windows offering glimpses of souls, then a lively spirit indeed must dwell behind this pair of small but piercing yellow globes. She stands at last, and at once begins to navigate down from her rocky observatory into the perpetual dusk of the forest. She can smell her comrades even from here, and her presence in the rear will enable her to cut off any of the deer which might outmaneuver her companions in this direction. She has noticed her mate’s shrewdness: the river is on two sides of the deer, the thicker forest on another. The wolves occupy the final dimension, thereby making escape quite trying.

The others can see the deer much closer. A good herd, this: several bucks and two dozen does, some drinking, the others nibbling grass or looking warily around. It is not easy for them, either; constant vigilance must accompany their speed and reflexes for them to survive. Prey species never evolve as intelligently as predators, but they are nonetheless well-equipped to survive. Indeed, the predators are nothing without them.

An eager male beta wolf, one of the twins, can hardly contain himself. He wants so truly to charge, even though he realizes the others will chastise him if he ruins the hunt. So close now! The thick old trees provide plenty of visual cover, but unlike the human hunters, the deer and the wolves can locate each other so easily by noticing scents and sounds. This drooling young beta allows his hunger to get the best of him. He steps carelessly.

Such a delicate sound, a paw plunging into a mud puddle. But it is distinct, and enough. The deer simultaneously prick up their oval ears, aiming them towards the beta. He has already frozen, hoping yet for a positive outcome. His breathing makes not a sound now, after he clamps his hot mouth shut, and his companions have similarly stopped all discernible motion. The beta licks the outside of his muzzle. Even the alpha male, twenty meters behind now, has crouched and become invisible, hoping the ruse might still work.

And then the group behavior of survival, common to so many social species which live under threat of predation: first one deer, then a second, then dozens, flail hooves and kick up loose, loamy soil, and the chase begins. The younger wolves are close enough that they might yet succeed. Their footing must prove surer, since the deer are actually faster: their prime advantage in the genetic arms race.

But now there is a more observable race. Gone for now is the stealth and planning and patience. Only pursuit remains. The wolves know they are slower, which is precisely why they must be smarter. For all their strategy and skill with an ambush, roughly one hunt in ten will actually manage to feed them. They sprint with iron muscle and coursing adrenaline, mouths agape and tongues tasting the air and the dirt raised by hooves. The female twin gets close enough to a younger deer to snap once at a hind leg, but no, the quarry leaps easily over the exposed roots of an ancient tree; the attempted bite leaves her top-heavy for an instant, and she must spend a moment navigating over the same woody extension. It costs her some precious proximity, but she will not yet quit.

Her twin runs with the alpha male, eager to atone for his mistake; it was a good trap they set, and he would be shamed to have ruined it. This desire to both please and apologize grants him an edge, as he remains focused utterly on a single animal. That is the trick, when the patience can finally be abandoned: to keep all senses locked on an individual, so that the group is forgotten. The dance of death is thus reducible to just two partners. The alpha male observes this focus and tries to cut off both animals, the other wolf and the deer. If he can do so, the other pack members can encircle the single prey animal, which would transform this exercise into a question of time.

Tired and panting, knowing his sprinting speed cannot last long, though it can reach fifty kilometers an hour, the alpha still grunts and extends his stride just a touch further, and when the lone deer notices him, it panics.

It turns away from the alpha. In so doing, it has turned away from the herd, away from escape. Perhaps it already knows it is surrounded. Doomed. But life never quits, and nor does this deer, its seemingly fragile representative. Life struggles.

© Copyright Edwin D. Wollert 2003