Before long, they heard the chirps and squeaks of marmots, exploratory noises made by animals before emerging from their holes. If they detected no responses, they’d pop up in large numbers. There were no responses, so out they came, dozens of them, big and small, filling the air with chirps. From every hole, it seemed, a female emerged to survey the area, and when they saw there were no predators nearby, they chirped a slow, rhythmic all-clear signal, following which hordes of young animals shot out of the holes and began eating clumps of grass as far as thirty or forty feet from the safety of their holes. With vultures circling high above in the deep blue sky, the females kept a careful watch. If their winged natural enemies descended, the marmot mothers chirped a frantic warning, which sent the young animals scurrying back to the safety of their holes, where they waited for the danger to pass.
When Chen moved slightly, Dorji laid his hand on his back to have him stay still. “Look at that hole over there,” he whispered. “There’s a wolf. He’s looking forward to a meal of marmot, just like us.” Chen immediately grew alert and turned his head to look. A large male marmot was standing in front of its hole, front legs folded in front of its chest as it scanned the area, obviously reluctant to leave the hole to graze on the grass. Male and female marmots live separately. The females live in one hole with their offspring; the males live alone in another. A large clump of tall grass lay not far below this particular male’s hole, and as it swayed in gentle breezes, the tops of brown rocks peeked through. The shifting shadows made it difficult to discern anything farther below.
“I don’t see a wolf,” Chen said. “Nothing but a few rocks.”
“There’s a wolf hidden beside one of those rocks, and I’ll bet it’s been there for a long time.”
Straining to look closer, Chen thought he could make out the partial figure of a wolf. “You’ve got better eyes than me,” he said. “I didn’t spot it.”
“If you don’t know how wolves hunt marmots,” Dorji explained, “you’d never spot one like this. They have to stay downwind of their prey, hidden in a clump of grass below a marmot hole. Catching one of those things is hard, even for a wolf, so they concentrate on big males. See that big one standing there? Damn near as big as a newborn lamb. It’s enough for one wolf meal. If it’s a wolf you’re looking for, head for the nearest male marmot hole, then scan the tall grass downwind from it.”
“Well, I learned another trick today,” Chen declared happily. “But when will the marmot decide to go down and eat? I want to see how the wolf catches it. There are holes everywhere, and the minute the wolf shows itself, the marmots will scramble down the nearest one.”
Dorji said, “It takes a smart wolf to catch a marmot. They have a trick to keep marmots from getting into a hole. Let’s see how this one does.”
They looked downhill, where their sheep were still lying in the grass, so they decided to be patient and see what happened. “Too bad we didn’t bring a dog,” Dorji said. “If we had, we could wait till the wolf got this one, then turn the dog loose and follow it on horseback. The marmot would become a meal-but ours, not the wolf’s.”
“Why don’t we chase it anyway?” Chen said. “We might catch it.”
“No way,” Dorji said. “Just look. The wolf is on the mountain ridge, so it would be heading downhill, and we’d be riding uphill. And once the wolf made it over the ridge, you’d never see it again. Besides, with all those marmot holes, our horses can’t run fast.” Chen gave up on the idea.
“No, we’ll lay some traps tomorrow,” Dorji said. “I just brought you here today to look around. Wolves will only be catching marmots for another couple of weeks. Once the rains come and the mosquitoes emerge, they no longer go after them. Why? Because they’re afraid of the mosquitoes, who attack their noses, eyes, and ears, making them jump into the air and give themselves away, which sends the marmots scurrying back into their holes. That’s when the wolves give up on marmots and turn their attention to our sheep and horses. That’s bad news for us and our livestock.”
The big male watched the other marmots gorging themselves on the grass until it couldn’t stand it any longer and left the safety of its hole for the tempting grass several feet away. After a few tentative bites, it ran back to its hole and chirped loudly. “See how it won’t eat the grass around its hole? They save that as a sort of barrier. Things out here are never easy,” Dorji said. “One careless moment is all it takes to lose your life.”
Chen watched the wolf with growing anxiety. It didn’t seem to have a clear view of the marmot from its hiding place, and would have to rely on sound to determine the location and movements of its prey. It pressed itself down so flat that it had nearly burrowed into the ground.
After four or five lightning trips to the grass and back, the marmot relaxed, sensing there was no danger, and ran over to a spot where the grass was at its most lush. Five or six minutes passed; then, all of a sudden, the wolf stood up. What surprised Chen was that instead of rushing over to pounce on the marmot, the wolf pawed at some loose rocks, sending several of them rolling downhill, making noise as they built up speed and grew in number. Chen watched as the marmot, now twenty feet or more from its hole, looked up in fright, turned, and raced back toward safety. But the wolf streaked toward the marmot hole, reaching it at about the same time as its inhabitant. Before the marmot could scurry down the hole, the wolf had it by the scruff of its neck. It was quickly flung to the ground, where the wolf sank its teeth into its neck. Then the wolf picked it up and ran off, quickly crossing the ridge. The whole maneuver had taken less than thirty seconds.
All the other marmots had vanished. The two men sat up. Images of the wolf catching its prey replayed in Chen’s head. He was speechless. The wisdom of the wolf was unfathomable. An almost magical beast.
The sunlight had turned from white to yellow, and the sheep were once again grazing, having moved several hundred feet to the west. Chen and Dorji talked for a few minutes before deciding to return to their flocks, turn them around, and head back to camp. But just as they their flocks, turn them around, and head back to camp. But just as they were about to climb into the saddle, Chen noticed some stirring among his sheep. Quickly taking out his telescope, he trained it on the left edge of the flock, where he spotted a large wolf slipping out of the bed of flowers and pouncing on one of his sheep, pinning it to the ground. Chen’s face turned white from fright, and he was about to scream when Dorji stopped him. He swallowed the scream and watched as the wolf tore flesh from one of the live sheep’s rear legs. As one of the lower animals, sheep won’t make a sound when they see blood. This one struggled, pawing the ground with its front legs, but, unlike a goat, made no sound, no plea for help.
“We’re too far away to save the sheep,” Dorji said. “Let the wolf eat. When it’s gorged itself till it can’t run, we’ll get it. All right, you damned wolf,” he continued calmly, “you think you can take one of our sheep right under our eyes. Well, we’ll see about that!” They moved over behind a big rock so as not to give themselves away too early.