Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Wild Wolves are Dead

Wild wolves are dead.
They're dead and gone.
They've left us far behind
But other monsters stay here now
To terrorise the wild.

Because now all the trees are gone
And all wild wolves are dead.
Who now are the predators?
They've become man instead.

Fear, threat and danger
How will this predator fall?
Wild wolves aren't dead.
They've just changed shape, that's all.
Emma Fagan (i.e. me)

So the book that I'm currently reading (Chime by Franny Billingsley) mentions that all the wild wolves are dead. At least they are here in Ireland and in Britain. This at first made me upset because wolves are such beautiful majestic beasts.
Why are they gone?
Well, because they've been hunted down. Why were they hunted down?
Well, because they would attack farm animals and small children.
 Right. Liking wolves less now.
  But then I was thinking, a dangerous thing I know, at least, now we're safe to walk through woods alone. Except that we're not.
  Isn't it so infuriating and saddening that what now poses the most threat and danger to us is ourselves? Is other people? People are what now make it dangerous to walk home alone- I mean, that's always been a danger but now it is the main danger. Isn't that sad? Isn't that tragic? Isn't that so vexatious?
  The current trend of dystopian books shows this too. The over-the-top exaggeration of peoples worst qualities and what the world will eventually come to if we don't 'mend our ways.'
  I don't have a solution. I can't fix mankind. It just makes me sad. That's all.

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