The Lone Wolf
- Connla Redleaf
- Jul 14, 2024
- 4 min read
For those who have known me for any amount of time, I'm certain it comes as no shock to hear that I am a fan of wolves. The image of the wolf has captured me since a young age; the earliest recollection I have of this fascination comes from the Mexico Symphony's performance of Peter and the Wolf set to a puppet show for children. The scene of the wolf's glowing golden eyes has remained in my mind all my life. As I grew and learned, the motif of the wolf continued to appear in my life in many different forms. Studio Ghibli's Princess Mononoke, werewolves in films like Underworld and An American Werewolf in London, and, of course, all over world mythologies: Lycaon of Greece, the Capitoline Wolf of Rome, Fenrir of the Norse world, among many others.
Arguably the most impactful visage of the wolf came in the form of the Hound of Ulster himself. Sometimes called the "Irish Achilles," other times compared to the Incredible Hulk, Cu Chulainn was cursed from birth with a power called the riastrad, often translated as a "warp-spasm." The warp-spasm transformed this human warrior into a ferocious beast beyond reckoning. Combine this imagery with the origin of his name, and drawing a line between him and the werewolf becomes almost too obvious.
As my research continued, I began to recognize just how ingrained in human culture the image of the wolf truly is. We have been telling stories about wolves for as long as we have been telling stories; even the oldest known epic of mankind, The Epic of Gilgamesh, features the beast-man Enkidu as a primary protagonist and Gilgamesh's closest companion. Stories of the dangerous, wild ferocity of the animal pervaded human storytelling society for literally thousands of years. To this day, tales of "The Big Bad Wolf" are probably the most popular depictions of wolves in all of human perception.
After being hunted to near extinction in North America, one sympathetic soul set out to uncover the truth about wolves and set the record straight on which stories were fact and which were mere fiction: Adolph Murie published The Wolves of Mount McKinley in 1944.
In studying the titular wolves (as well as other species) of Mount McKinley, Murie debunked many of the most pervasive and destructive myths about wild wolves that led to their dwindling numbers. Over time, these discoveries reformed the image of the wolf in the mind of greater populace, from terror of the dark and savage beast to just another wild animal that's more afraid of you than you are of them.
As humanity's relationship with wolves evolved, so too did their portrayal in human culture. The idea of the "wolf pack" became less about a terrifying horde of hundreds upon thousands of wild beasts and more of a symbol of family, loyalty, and strength. Intra-pack dynamics, while often mischaracterized even to this day, offer a view of wolves more akin to one's own family--an accurate representation considering that most wolf packs consist of one or more family groups, the "alpha wolf" of each being simply the parent of the others.
And so, the wolf pack became a symbol of family so strong that it's a near one-to-one representation. Why, then, is the image of a lone wolf so pervasive and impactful? For an animal with such similar family dynamics to our own, where lone wolves are only alone in order to form packs of their own, why does a person who prefers solitude to cooperation so immediately associated with the image of the wolf?
From stoic swordsmen, to gritty gunslingers, to recusant rogues, the "lone wolf" as a motif can be and has been applied to a wide variety of characters. Even the protagonist of my own manuscript is a lone wanderer in a strange land, which speaks to the impact of such a character on my own psyche. Most often, the image of the lone wolf is projected not just on a "loner" character, but specifically on an "outsider" character. The Lone Wolf is specifically a creature that is capable of integrating itself into a family group, but does not, has not, or cannot.
A classic example from film is Clint Eastwood's character in A Fistful of Dollars, a lone wanderer who stumbles into the middle of a gang war in the wild west. From the perspective of the gang leaders, he's not just a foreign element, he's a completely unknown entity--could he be persuaded to join their side? Is he useful at all? Will he simply wander his way back out as simply as he wandered in? Ultimately, it is up to the Lone Wolf to decide whether he gets involved or not.
A favorite depiction of mine is the character of Guts from the manga Berserk. The wandering Black Swordsman, victim of a tragic and traumatic past, used to be a member of a found family, a "wolf pack," before further tragedy forced him to become what he is now. After having found and lost something so meaningful, Guts is actively hostile toward relationships, and only the stalwart hearts of those unwilling to give up on him and unafraid of the world around them are able to pierce his armor and discover the lonely man underneath.
That's what a lone wolf is. Whether due to circumstances outside their control, their upbringing forcing a sense of independence, or a tragedy that built barriers between themselves and others, the wolf is a symbol of loneliness. Cu Chulainn, the Hound of Ulster, lone warrior against the Connacht invaders, forced to slaughter his closest friend caught on the opposite side of the war. Enkidu, more beast than man, smote by the gods for his insolence on behalf of his closest friend Gilgamesh.
The image of the wolf is so closely tied to our image of ourselves that it can be interpreted in thousands of different ways. Those who identify with the wolf as a symbol, and those who have the image of the wolf projected onto them by others, can all see something different in that symbol. From the examples listed here, and in my own experience, I believe the most powerful of those interpretations is this:
The Wolf is a Symbol of Loneliness.
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