Protection or Play

It was the height of summer in Yellowstone National Park, and the wilderness buzzed with life. Birds chirped as they built nests for their soon-to-hatch chicks, and young deer bounded through meadows, learning the rhythm of the forest from their watchful mothers. Not far from a winding park road, nestled on the side of a quiet mountain, a small wolf pack tended to their newest generation. Among the litter of pups was a particularly curious young wolf named Flops.

At just over six weeks old, the pups were beginning to test their legs, eyes wide with wonder at the vast world beyond the den. Their mother remained ever watchful, never letting them stray too far. Yellowstone was beautiful—but it was also dangerous. Predators like grizzly bears, eagles, and coyotes lurked throughout the park, making it essential that young wolves stayed close and listened to their elders.

Flops, however, had a mind of his own. As the oldest of the litter, he fancied himself more grown-up than he was, and following the rules didn’t quite fit with his adventurous spirit.

One sunny morning, while the rest of the pack rested, Flops slipped away from the den. The mountain breeze carried the scent of pine and distant rivers, and Flops trotted along with excitement, exploring every rustling bush and fluttering bird. Hours passed as he wandered deeper into unfamiliar terrain, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Suddenly, the air shifted. A chill ran down his spine. Something wasn’t right.

Before Flops could react, a powerful force slammed into his side. A bald eagle, having spotted him from above, had dived with talons extended, aiming to snatch the young pup. Luckily, Flops had instinctively crouched at the last second, and though he was hit hard, the eagle missed its mark. Dazed but unharmed, Flops scrambled to his feet and fled into the trees.

Panting and shaken, he tried to retrace his steps back toward home. But as he entered a clearing he’d passed earlier, danger greeted him again—this time, in the form of a grizzly bear and her cub foraging in the tall grass.

Flops froze.

He remembered his parents’ warnings, the countless lessons about staying close and alert. If he had listened, he wouldn’t be here, one wrong move away from disaster. Quietly, he backed into the shadows of the forest and began circling the clearing, using the cover of the trees to stay hidden. The bears paused once or twice, sniffing the air, but eventually returned to grazing, unaware of the young wolf creeping past.

Once he reached a safer distance, Flops bolted toward the den.

As he neared home, the sounds of a worried pack reached his ears. His parents and siblings had been searching, frantic with fear. When they saw him, their relief quickly turned to anger—but beneath it, there was love. Flops hung his head, offering small, apologetic nuzzles.

The lesson had been learned the hard way.

From that day on, Flops stayed close to the den. He now understood that rules weren't meant to spoil his fun—they were there to protect him. In the wild, safety isn’t just smart. It’s survival.

The Wanderer Pup

In the heart of a forest, where wild rivers run,
Where meadows are golden beneath summer sun,
A pup named Flops with fur soft and gray,
Felt a pull in his paws to wander one day.

"Stay close," said his mother, "The world can be cruel.
There’s danger in beauty—remember our rule."
But Flops was the oldest, the boldest, the brave—
And he longed for the trees and the wind’s quiet wave.

He stepped past the rocks, past the roots and the fern,
Each rustle and whisper a new thing to learn.
The world was a painting of color and sound—
Until something heavy knocked him to the ground.

A shadow had fallen, wide wings in the sky—
An eagle swooped down with a sharp, piercing cry.
Flops ducked just in time, with a heart full of fright,
And dashed through the forest, out into the light.

There stood a grizzly, her cub by her side.
Flops held his breath, nowhere to hide.
But luck was his friend, and the wind on his fur
Carried his scent where they barely could stir.

He circled the meadow, stayed low in the brush,
Not a twig did he snap, not a leaf did he crush.
When home came in view and his pack rushed ahead,
He lowered his head for the words they all said.

"You’re safe," said his mother, "but scared us today.
The wild isn't kind when you wander away."
He curled in the den, warm, tired, and still—
And learned that being brave means knowing your will.

Now Flops watches stars from the safety of night,
Dreams of the forest but waits for what’s right.
For lessons once lived leave a mark soft and deep—
And even wild hearts must learn when to keep.

The End