By Irene Butler – Published in TravelLady on line magazine - A distant lone howl pierced the night sky. It set off a chorus of howling that wolves engage in to solidify the pack’s social structure and to signal their presence to neighbouring packs. A platter-sized moon cast a silver glow on the flowing water; the scent of pine wafted from the forest nearby. A shadowy raven flew overhead; this one appeared to have reached the four-foot maximum wingspan for these heavy-billed corvids. My husband Rick and I were sitting on the rocks beside the Burntwood River at the...