Forest ranger Ivan quietly walked along the path, listening to the familiar sounds of the forest: the rustling of leaves, the crackling of branches under the paws of a hare, the cries of magpies. It was a cool autumn morning. Ivan was headed to the southern part of the reserve, where he had recently noticed an unauthorized trail of an ATV. Apparently, one of the poachers had decided to try his luck.
About fifty steps later, he noticed the birds were agitated. The thrushes were screaming as if they had discovered a predator. Ivan moved towards the noise and soon saw the ground torn up by paws. In the center was a small puddle of blood. Frowning, Ivan looked around and a little aside, discovered the cause of the tragedy. Among the bushes lay a dead she-wolf, and a little further was a metal trap from which she had managed to escape, but too late.
Ivan sighed heavily. Despite frequent patrols, such incidents still occurred. He was about to return to call for assistance and remove the trap when he suddenly heard a soft whining. Nearby, in the bushes, someone was there. Ivan slowly approached, pushed the branches aside, and froze. He was met by three pairs of huge yellowish eyes. Wolf cubs. Still very small, trembling, with tucked tails.
Ivan knew they had no chance. Their mother was dead, they didn’t know how to hunt, and the nearest pack was tens of kilometers away. The forest ranger straightened up, deep in thought. According to the reserve rules, interfering with nature was not allowed, but how could he leave these little ones to die?
“Well, guys, it looks like I’ll have to take you home with me,” he whispered quietly and began to carefully place the wolf cubs in his old canvas coat.
In the cottage where Ivan lived year-round, the cubs quickly settled in. He named them Grey, Paw, and Breeze. Paw was slightly lame—apparently, she had an old injury. Grey was stubborn, and Breeze turned out to be the most curious. Ivan bought milk in the village, fed them from a bottle, and later began to feed them cooked fish and meat.
Every day the cubs grew, and their behavior became more confident. They played on the porch, chased each other, and even sometimes tried to ambush Ivan, scaring him for fun.
But soon there were problems. Neighbors from the village, learning that Ivan had sheltered wolves, began to grumble. At the store, they looked at him askance, and one local even said:
“Why are you feeding the beasts? They will come to our cows later!”
“They will return to the forest,” Ivan cut off. “It’s temporary.”
But the talks did not subside. The village elder visited his cottage and sternly warned:
“Ivan Nikolaevich, having wolves in the household is dangerous. I think it’s better to euthanize them. Or at least take them somewhere far away.”
Ivan was silent, clenching his fists. But inside, he already knew that he would fight for his charges to the end.
When the cubs grew up, Ivan began preparing them to return to nature. With the help of fellow ecologists, he built a training area with a fenced territory where the cubs could hunt rabbits and pheasants released there. He did not interfere, only watched from afar.
Gradually, the cubs lost interest in human food and learned to procure it themselves. Ivan noticed that Grey took on the role of the leader, Paw was responsible for caution, and Breeze often acted as the scout.
At the same time, poachers made their presence known again. In one of the raids, Ivan stumbled upon traps set around the reserve. While disabling them, he stepped on a weakened root, stumbled, and fell into one of the pits left by hunters. His leg was pinned and injured. The whistle that always hung on his neck fell to the bottom of the pit. Ivan screamed, but no one responded.
Suddenly, a shadow flickered in the bushes. Grey. Ivan weakly smiled.
“Ah, boy, you’re here too,” he exhaled. The wolf looked at him for a few seconds, then disappeared.
An hour later, all three arrived at the pit. They whined nervously, gnawed at branches, as if trying to do something. Unexpectedly, Breeze ran off. And half an hour later, Ivan heard the steps of his colleagues.
“He led us here!” said one of them, pointing to Breeze, who was darting around the people. “Are these your wolves, Ivan?”
“Yep. Mine.”
The next morning, Ivan finally decided: the cubs were ready for freedom. Together with colleagues, he drove them to a remote part of the forest, away from human habitation. At the exit from the car, he called each of them, stroked them, and let them go. Paw did not go immediately, wagging her tail and hesitantly looking back. Grey was the last. He looked into Ivan’s eyes for a long time, as if saying goodbye.
“Go, Grey. Everything will be fine,” said the forest ranger.
The cubs disappeared into the thicket of the forest.
Several months later, Ivan, as usual, patrolled the territory of the reserve. At the doorstep of the cottage, he noticed an unusual pile. It was rabbits, neatly stacked. Wolf paw prints were visible on the ground.
Ivan sat on the porch, picked up one of the trophies, and laughed.
“Thank you, guys,” he whispered softly.
The heart of the forest ranger was filled with warmth. He knew he had done everything right.