It is midwinter and a luminous full moon rises above the forest and clearing a short distance from where I’m sitting.

Looking out into the misty quiet of the frost-filled forest, a wolf’s howl salutes the moon, its voice resonating in the night sky.

It is a moment of timeless beauty where moonlight, myth and legend are woven together into the harmony of nature.

Through the moonlit shadows of the forest, with their silver gray coats blending into the background of snow-laden birch trees,

a pack of eight wolves burst into the clearing led by the alpha male and female of the pack.

They suddenly pause, cautiously surveying their surroundings, listening for any sound in the silence.  Hearing none, the pack’s  leader calls out announcing their presence, his plaintive howl echoing for miles around.

Their mesmerizing beauty and fascinating family structure is celebrated as they romp, play and roll in the snow of that clearing.

The alpha male standing nearby salutes this night with a haunting solo that is also a signal to the pack that it is time to go.

They continue to play as they run off into the forest. The alpha male stops at the edge of the trees and looks up toward a window where I’m sitting before turning to disappear behind the pack into the forest.

It’s as if he had known I was sitting there all the time.

In our natural world, there are few animals more loyal and more devoted to what we recognize as the concept of family than the magnificent wolf and the pack.