Howling mad

A man is crouching over a dead deer and ripping out the contents of its stomach. In order to keep his dominant role in the wolf pack he must eat the animal's liver.

As his stomach can't digest raw meat, he takes it away and cooks it, replaces it in the dead animal, then rips it out again and eats it.

Shaun Ellis is The Wolfman in an extraordinary story that will leave you open-mouthed with amazement as he feeds the three other North American timber wolves in the pack through his mouth.

They lick his lips to make him feed them, something he achieves by hiding partially-chewed meat and letting them eat it from his mouth. This doesn't seem such a good idea once they're fully grown and capable of eating 22lbs of meat in a single sitting.

When Ellis told his wife and four children of his intentions, they left him. An understandable reaction as he didn't say: "I have to work away for a couple of weeks", but told them he was off to live with wolves for two years.

He lives as part of the pack, sacrificing his normal life to live 24 hours a day as a wolf. Home is a secure enclosure in a North Devon wildlife park. Visitors must get the shock of their lives to see a grown man romping with the wolves.

He reared the orphan wolves from birth, even showing them how to howl. Until you've seen a man teach a wolf to howl, as Ellis does using his knowledge of wolf language, you won't believe it.

Some might call him howling mad. He's certainly the top dog. There's a pecking order in the pack, even at meal time when the alpha male gets the rump and the lowest wolf gets only the stomach contents.

Ellis, who's been studying wolves for 15 years, hopes that by living with them he'll shed new light on their behaviour. He's given up everything to do it. "I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't think I could make a difference," he says.

The project is not without danger. Like the time one of the wolves leapt across the enclosure and literally pinned him to the ground. "All he did was lock his mouth round my jaw. You feel every bone in your face is literally going to break," he recalls.

He puts his knowledge to the test after a Polish farmer issues an SOS as wolves are annoying his lifestock. Ellis goes there and, through playing wolf howls, keeps them away.

Things have changed on his return to the enclosure. He's no longer top dog and front of the food queue. He has to wait his turn and, sensibly, doesn't try to jump the queue.

Three million people lined the streets of London for Queen Elizabeth II's coronation in June 1953. A further 20 million people crowded round tiny TV sets to watch as, for the first time, the 1,000-year-old ceremony was televised live. Timewatch goes down memory lane to hear from those who watched and those who took part in the extravaganza.

One women's preparations for the communal viewing session are recalled. "She had polished the furniture to within an inch of its life because the Queen was coming into her sitting room," says a visitor.

Peter Dimmock, then Head of TV Outside Broadcasts, says the Establishment didn't want to let the cameras into the ceremony in Westminster Abbey. Only after a trial, involving just one camera, did they agree.

One worry was that something dreadful would go wrong and be seen by the viewing nation. This followed hiccups at George VI's coronation when the Dean of Westminster and the Archbishop of Canterbury could be seen on film footage clearly puzzled by which way round the crown sat on the monarch's head.

The Abbey, which usually holds 2,000 people, had to squeeze in just over 8,000 for the ceremony. Outside, the public could buy seats in the 27 miles of seating erected along the route. Unlike the peers' temporary toilets, these didn't have blue velvet on the seat.