According to my ‘Wise Pilgrim Guide to the Northern Camino’, many Galician farmers “enjoy telling you, without the slightest tone of irony or sarcasm, that ‘no hay vacas en Galicia'”. While there may not be any cows in Galicia, there are wolves.

“Ive never seen a gray German Shepherd…” Ida said in mystic tone, leaning out of her chair to peer into the hillside.
“I saw something, but not a dog…”

Ida pointed across the valley of pasture, to the edge of the forest, where she had seen a beast. Two of our hosts four tiny dogs came running up the driveway, breaking silence with their yipping. The other two sat nervously at our feet, ears at attention, eyes on the trees.

Evening had crept into A Roxica; a soft mist continued to drip from the albergue awning and dull the colors of the countryside.

“El bosque tiene lobos?” I ask the presumable husband of our hostess.

“Siiiiiii…” grumbled the cattle farmer, raising his brow and turning his chin down at us. He proceeded to tell us many things, about his cows and his dogs, and los lobos. I understood very little of his mysterious tale, but I clearly understood one bit: Pilgrims, he said, should not be out walking in the evening, and not too early in the morning either. There ARE wolves in Galicia.

Ida and I slept in the next morning, not setting off into another drizzly morning until well after nine. A half hour into our way, we stopped in our tracks.

“Listen…”

A comotion had errupted across the valley, not far away. Many canines of unknown variety howled and barked and snarled in a frenzy that silenced the other creatures of the hillside.

“I dont think anyone here has that many dogs.” My eyebrows raised at Ida, who shuddered slightly, and resumed quickly down the lane.

“I do NOT like this way.” She said as I did my best to keep up with her frantic march.

Ask anyone who lives here and they will tell you, there ARE wolves in Galicia.