The full moon has long fascinated me. Ever since my twenties and thirties, I have experienced deep and often very negative mood swings in the days leading up to the monthly event. Sometimes it has been frightening to realise just how out of control my emotions have felt.
I know I am not alone. And that there is no precise explanation for why this happens. We all know that the moon is responsible for the earth’s tides; and exerts its most ferocious pull when at its brightest. Given that our bodies are at least 50% water, why would a full moon not have some type of effect upon us?
On Thursday, 28 January, Maureen told me that the full moon that evening – the first in the calendar year – was known as the Wolf Moon. She said she had read of a (human) group that would be out howling at the orb.
“I’d like to do that,” I said. “Fancy it?”
I reckon most wives, certainly those of our age, would say (or think) “grow up”. But Maureen isn’t that partner. She agreed that it might be fun.
We togged up for the cold night and went into the dark back garden. The moon was shrouded by cloud, but no matter. The allotted time was 8.16p.m so I gave a few warm-up howls in the preceding minutes. Letting the lungs, diaphragm and throat work a little more each time.
Then came the moment and we let rip. It felt joyous, expressive, purging and at times hilarious. Not unlike sex. None of the neighbours came out and joined in.
Wolves apparently howl for numerous reasons. To define territory, locate pack members, reinforce social bonds, and coordinate hunting.
We howled for sheer pleasure.
This little clip that might give a flavour of how enjoyable it was.