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A few years ago I took a break and went to the high arctic for fifteen months. I lived on the land with the Inuit for periods of time, living off game and fish.

One day I was out hunting with some friends and one of them pointed to a pond, some distance away, asking me if I'd seen the ducks land. Being one of the few white men up there, I was often the butt of their jokes, so I wondered if they were pulling my leg. One of the hunters was a pastor at the local church. I looked to him and he nodded, indicating there were indeed ducks in the pond.

I grabbed my shotgun and began my trek towards the pond over the rough tundra. When I got there, sure enough, there were three ducks. The natives would likely have waited until all three were in close proximity, shooting them all with one shot. Being a kabloonak (white man), I felt that would be entirely unsporting. I flushed the birds into the air. To my dismay, they split at hard angles. I shot the far left bird but discovered the other two were already out of range for my 20ga. 'gentleman's gun'.

I picked up the single duck and headed back to camp. When I returned I could hear them howling with laughter. "What now?" I demanded, a bit annoyed. "Silly white man." one of them replied, "On the way back you stop and look at your duck. Oh, nice duck! While you look at the duck them other two fly right over your head and land right back in same pond. Ha, ha! Great white hunter, the great white wolf of the north." I never lived the nickname down.

Over time the name became inextricably linked with the many fond memories of my northern adventure. When I returned to the south I began signing illustrations and airbrush artwork with White Wolf and my design company became Whitewolf Design & Media Group.

Visit Travels North for more information about travel to the arctic.