The Big Bad Wolf

            Earlier this week, I saw a comment using “the big bad wolf” as a metaphor for a villainous person. As a fan of wolves, my brain started to rant about how wolves are continually maligned, even in this enlightened day and age. Knowing that wolves will avoid humans and only attack them out of desperation makes it somewhat ludicrous to use them as a metaphor for what we deem to be evil.

            Or does it?

            As I considered, the realization hit me that this comparison is far more apt than people realize. When we talk about the big bad wolf, we’re referring to our perceptions on the surface of a situation. More than that, we’re stereotyping, just as we do when viewing any other group as villainous.

            Let’s take a closer look at this metaphor, shall we? The wolf. This is a cunning predator; large and fearsome. It is easy to understand why humans came to fear them. Then came a time when wolves lurked around villages, preying on the weak, because they were starving. This is where the metaphor started. And, yes, wolves are looking fairly evil.

            However, we forget the part where the wolves were starving. They were desperate for food and just trying to survive. In fact, they still avoided attacking humans whenever possible, preferring to loot corpses. In normal circumstances, as I mentioned before, wolves avoid humans as much as possible. They are intelligent creatures, and also very social. Within their own packs, they are friendly and playful. Yes, they are masters of teamwork and extremely efficient hunters, but then, so are humans. The difference is that wolves hunt only for food, and they avoid letting anything go to waste.

            So, our metaphor of the big bad wolf shows us someone who is vicious because of their most visible behaviour. It shows us a stereotype of the worst aspects of a species from a time when they were struggling. However, it fails to show us what they are really like. In normal life, with normal circumstances, wolves are very different creatures.

            Considering this metaphor, my view on it has shifted. When we point at a person (or at a whole people) and say, “That is a big bad wolf!” we are commenting on the most visible behaviour. We are ignoring the parts that we can’t see, and very often don’t even go searching for them. In our ignorance, we have no idea what is motivating the wolf, or forcing it into its current position.

            Yes, I now believe that the misunderstood wolf is the perfect metaphor for that which we fear.

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If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

The Deer-ostrich

             I saw a deer today. Well, it may have been part ostrich, as all I saw was a body with some legs and a neck disappearing into the snow. I've never actually seen a deer in the wild before. All my life, my parents have said “There’s a deer!” and by the time I looked, there were no deer anywhere.

            I have no idea where I'm going with this; that just seemed like a good way to start. After all, who doesn't love a deer-ostrich story? Now, of course, I have to write one.

            Once, there was a deer-ostrich. He was a beautiful fellow with a fine coat of fur and a long feathered neck. Life was good for him, since he could reach up high to eat from trees, or down to the ground to eat grass, if he pleased.

His only trouble was that he didn't know how to handle his fear. Two sets of instincts told him, simultaneously, that at the first sign of trouble, he should bury his head in the ground and run. As you can imagine, this resulted in some ungainly flights, often leaving deep trenches right up to trees.

            Now, the deer-ostrich was one of a kind, so he had no one to teach him what he should do if a predator were to spot him. So he decided to ask a deer for some advice.

            “If you see a wolf, run!” the deer insisted. “Don’t mind the lions, they prefer ostriches.”

            “Oh deer, but I am a deer-ostrich!” the deer-ostrich replied. “What if the lion prefers me?”

            “Ask an ostrich,” the deer said with a shrug.

            That’s just what the deer-ostrich did.

            “If you see a lion, just bury your head in the ground,” the ostrich said. “The lion will think you’re an odd type of bush and leave you alone. Wolves prefer to eat deer.”

             At that point in time, a lion happened upon them. Fighting his instinct to run, the deer-ostrich followed the ostrich’s lead and buried his head in the ground.

            The lion wasn't fooled, as the ostrich had claimed he’d be. What he saw was a tasty feathery meal next to a silly deer with its head in the ground.

            When the deer-ostrich emerged, he found himself safe and alone. Satisfied that he now knew how to survive when he was afraid, he went about his life, running from the wolves and burying his head around lions.

            The system worked for years, until he chanced upon a lion and a wolf at the same time. In a panic, the deer-ostrich had to choose one of his defences. Since the lion was closer, he buried his head.

            The lion went about its business, but the wolf was delighted to come across a deer who, with its head in the ground, couldn't see him coming. It was the easiest dinner the wolf had ever gotten, although upon telling others of his luck, he did have something to say.

            “But, my, did that deer taste fowl!”

            The moral of the story is: Don’t make up stories on the spot at midnight.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.