Tattered Jeans
Call of the wild: "Jane Goodall of the wolf world" creates safe haven at St.Francis Wolf Sanctuary
Nov 25, 2012 | 2:49 pm
MysteryPhoto by Katie Oxford
St. Beulah Chapel RoadPhoto by Katie Oxford
St. Francis and DuchessPhoto by Katie Oxford
Jean LeFevrePhoto by Katie Oxford
RomulusPhoto by Katie Oxford
The entrance at St. Francis Wolf Sanctuary: Sculpture carved from a dead treePhoto by Katy Oxford
TalaPhoto by Katie Oxford
Michael, a volunteer, with Mystery and YodaPhoto by Katie Oxford
Vista from Jean LeFevre's homePhoto by Katie Oxford
As soon as you turn off of Highway 105 onto Old Dobbin Road, sprawling suburbs dissolve into rolling hills and open pastures. The vista only gets better as you make the final turn onto St Beulah Chapel Road.
Pines on either side of the road stand so tall they lean. They sing. A song anyone who grew up playing in the piney woods of southeast Texas knows well.
The 1.5-mile stretch of road is peaceful— almost purposefully making you slow down. Look. Listen. A perfect prelude to the gates of St. Francis Wolf Sanctuary. Home of its founder, Jean LeFevre, and 16 wolves — surrounded by beautiful raw acreage as far as your eye can see.
“We don’t buy, we don’t sell, we don’t breed,” Jean told the group. Not sounding like a drill sergeant, but rather a ballet instructor calling out the next step.
I came prepared, or so I thought, carrying pages of questions, mostly about Jean. But the moment I met this "Jane Goodall of the wolf world," I tossed them back into the car and reached for a small camera. I walked with Jean toward the loves of her life – leaning in like the pines over St. Beulah Road.
Jean’s history alone is enough to fill a book. She was ordained as a minister in England in 1982 and has a Ph.D. in pastoral counseling, specializing in the field of Eschatology (the study of death and the ultimate destiny of humankind).
Prior to moving to Montgomery, Texas, she lived in Europe, India and Tanzania. In 1976, she studied with Twyla Nitsch, a Native American of the Seneca Wolf Clan, Iroquois Nation. In 1991, Jean was made Peace Elder during a meeting of the Elders at Wolf Song.
She spoke of none of this. Instead, she preferred to talk about her passion – her four legged partners whose history she tells with reverence. We sat on a wooden bench overlooking the wolves in spacious enclosures and Jean told the story of Mystery.
The story of Mystery
Mystery, she claims, not Jean, is the founder of St. Francis Wolf Sanctuary. Mystery had been trapped, then shot and left for dead. Fortunately, a friendly veterinarian treated her and later called Jean, subtly suggesting to her that she obtain the required licenses (county, state and federal) to operate a sanctuary. Jean went through the process, and to her surprise, was quickly granted permits. On October 4, 2002 (the feast day for Saint Francis of Assisi) the sanctuary opened with Mystery as its first resident.
She told one story after another – in her mind moving from one wolf to the next as if reciting poetry. In a way, it is.
Jean went on to talk about the others. Lakota and Apache had come from Oregon. Rafiki was running along a bayou near Conroe when an animal control agency picked her up and called Jean. Sable came from the Dallas Dog Rescue. She’d been purchased as a gift but the family no longer wanted her – complaining that her large paws made it difficult to keep the house clean.
She told one story after another – in her mind moving from one wolf to the next as if reciting poetry. In a way, it is. Their brochure, "Wolf Tales/The Journey and Wisdom of the Wolves of St. Francis," reads like poetry. A page for each wolf opens with an honor…Sable teaches us about accepting change and love…Tala teaches us about grace and agility…Romulus teaches us about playfulness…
Forty-five minutes with Jean seemed like 10. Just before 3 p.m., a small group (some from Canada I was told) gathered in our area. Jean politely excused herself to give them a tour – inviting me to stay. Happily, I accepted.
Jean opened the tour as she does each one – first, greeting Mystery, and then telling the wolf’s story. Later, I asked her why and she answered in a word: “Courtesy.”
“We don’t buy, we don’t sell, we don’t breed,” Jean told the group. Not sounding like a drill sergeant, but rather a ballet instructor calling out the next step.
Singin' with wolves
At the end of Jean’s talk, a volunteer fastened a leash onto Tala and brought her over to our group. Alertly, Tala walked down our row checking everyone out. She seemed both joyful and curious. Some offered their hand out to her — one man stroked her back. She received them all.
She smiled. “Wolves don’t howl,” she said. “They sing."
After Tala was returned to her enclosure, out came — Tracker. It’s hard to describe the feeling you get when this spirit is looking you in the eye. Stupidly, I took more pictures. Perhaps you’ve experienced this too, but there are moments, although rare, when while firing my camera, a voice inside says, “Time to put the camera down.” This was another of those moments. I followed the direction.
The tour now over, everyone thanked Jean and began moseying back to their cars. I lingered a little longer, not wanting to leave. I’m glad that I did. From someplace deep, Mystery began to howl. Soon after, another wolf joined in, then another.
“Their howl is so soulful,” I commented to Jean.
She smiled. “Wolves don’t howl,” she said. “They sing.”
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Postcripe: What the sanctuary needs most right now are more volunteers. I asked Jean to describe the ideal volunteer. “First and foremost,” she said, “have a respect for all life.”
Later, not surprisingly, a volunteer tending an enclosure would bend down and pick something up. Jean, seeing this, asked her what it was. “It’s a frog with a broken leg,” she answered – walking away - cupping the frog in the palm of her hand like a baby bird.
For more information: www.wolvesofsaintfrancis.org
Lazy Lane will serve pastas, small plates, and steaks. Photo by Brian Kennedy 