The sound of the wolverine struck me before I saw it. I confess I was texting at the time - a message back home to say that after 14 hours in a hide deep in the Finnish forest, all I'd seen was a small rodent, possibly a lemming, running across some logs. Then a crunch, tooth on bone. I looked up and the 'ghost of the forest' had arrived, just 10m in front of me, tearing at the dead pig buried just beneath the snow. I watched as it worked on the carcass, occasionally glancing up, its beady brown eyes fixing two ravens cawing from a nearby spruce, waiting for their turn to feed. After 10 minutes, with a chunk of pig clasped in its jaws, it moved off, padding silently across the snow and disappearing into the trees.
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