LIFE, DEATH, AND THE WOLF-BIRDS
There are two death scenes in The Wolf-Birds. For some adults it's a sticking point. I haven't had anyone come and tell me this outright but I have sensed it a few times. Often I am asked why I chose to show them and my answer is always the same: Because it's real. Because it's the truth of nature.
I'm not good at hiding things so I suppose it only makes sense that I would be inclined to show it. And why not?
Like many kids, I was captivated by death. My parents had 40 acres of land when I was little in 100 Mile House, BC and I loved finding dead animals, poking at them, watching the maggots writhe in the rotting meat. I loved finding bones and animal skulls. My father is an artist and a naturalist and he always encouraged that curiosity, even when other people thought it was grim or scary or weird. To him, a man with deep connections to the land, it was normal.
And he saw how that curiosity fed my creativity, my brain, my art. First because I was a kid and it's normal for kids to wonder about death. Secondly, I was an artist and art has always fed off life for me. And third, I was sick. Very sick. And I was aware (maybe more so than other kids) that death was always near, always partly eclipsing the sun.
I have brittle asthma and am allergic to so many things the list would go on for pages… animals and insect stings are at the top of that list and I have almost died from anaphylaxis numerous times. I have felt the fog of death slide across and I have hung on and I have survived. It's a strange sensation having to slow your heart rate down because your lungs are, perhaps ironically, air-tight. Whatever few molecules of oxygen you have left are the very last crumbs and your survival hinges on whether you can make them last. Your hearing starts to fade, your vision clouds, seconds tick like the slow drip of honey until you are no longer participating with the outside world. You're all sealed up in your suit, floating off into the night on your final spacewalk.
This week I visited the delightful kids in Max Evans' grade 3/4 class at The First Nations School of Toronto They've been studying The Wolf-Birds in their storytelling unit and they were so excited to tell me all the things they had learned!
We talked about the relationship between wolves and ravens and hunters, and how mythology has given ecologists clues about the length of their shared connection. They told me how to say Wolf "Ma'iingan" and raven "Gaagaagishiinh" in Anishinaabe, they talked about the clan system and which clans they belonged to, they shared personal stories about their own favourite animals, they asked me about my personal connections to the animals and the book, and they shared their favourite scenes with me: the two death scenes. They had so many brilliant questions and I learned as much, maybe even more from them than they learned from me!
But perhaps the most beautiful moment came upon us when one girl asked me if I'd ever lost anyone close to me. Yes, I said, my grandmother and I were very close and she is missed so much still to this day. And I paused for a minute. And because I'm not good at hiding things I told them about how my mother lost a baby when I was young. And how it devastated our family for many years. Several of the kids told me their parents had lost babies, too...
And we sat there together for just a minute, holding this point of connection. This moment of sadness.
When the lunch bell rang and it was time to go they said they didn't want me to leave and I didn't want to leave either!! They tackled me with giant, tight hugs, almost pulling me down to the ground!
I didn't want to shy away from death in this book and for some people that may seem "grim." But sometimes that "grim" curiosity helps a child navigate their emotions through a scary or devastating situation.
All kids must face the question of death at some point. And all kids must entertain creativity and curiosity. How else will they become doctors, healers, surgeons, ecologists, biologists, mathematicians, inventors, game developers, designers, fine artists, writers, storytellers, musicians, dancers, teachers, librarians, chiefs, environmentalists, farmers, how else will they stand up for the rights of their communities and their lands? Curiosity is at the heart of creative problem solving which is the heart of innovation.
So I think we should celebrate it. If it seems grim to you, let it be a starting point for bigger conversations.
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