Wolf-watching in Yellowstone by Cameron Wilson

Finding the pack was an exercise in frustration. Messages flew back and forth by walkie-talkie, as the crew of regular “spotters” – a fanatical squad of professional biologists and photographers plus a few amateur enthusiasts – battled fruitless leads and fading batteries in an effort to find agreement on which patch of hillside we should be glassing with our spotting scopes. Then our receiver crackled into life, the voice on the other end a quiet murmur above the static: “They’re here......and it looks like they’ve got a fresh kill nearby”. At that precise moment, an ethereal howling rose from the valley and expanded like a mushroom cloud over the park, stopping every living thing in its tracks.

Despite having never seen a wild wolf, I had a pretty clear image to work with. The lascivious, tongue-lolling grin, the superb, too-lean legs like those on a supermodel, and the hypnotic yellow eyes, lit by a soul connected to something unspeakable. The only wolf I’d come across before today was dead and stuffed, but he still measured right up to my fevered expectations: black as a moonless Transylvania night, with golden eyes that even in death glowed with seduction and savagery. As we shouldered tripods and set off into the hills of Yellowstone’s Lamar Valley, I felt sure I knew exactly what we were looking for.

Reaching a spot about half a mile from the hillside where the pack had been sighted, I set up my spotting scope, eager at the prospect of observing wild wolves doing whatever wild wolves do. The thing about viewing animals in Yellowstone is that you can end up doing a lot of it from your car. Elk and buffalo graze by the roadside, coyotes approach vehicles to beg for food-scraps, even bears occasionally fossick around campsites and rubbish bins. Yet here we were, downwind and out of sight of the “Druid Peak” wolf pack, but if a single animal detected our whispered conversation, it would be the last we’d see of them for the day.

It took me a minute or two to locate the wolves, largely because I’d assumed they would be on the move – hopefully tearing some hapless herbivore such as an elk or buffalo limb from limb. Here instead were eighteen dark, furry bundles, hunkered down in the snow and snoozing the afternoon away. We didn’t have to wait long for things to liven up however, as one by one the bundles uncurled themselves and began to stretch, before slinking off in twos and threes towards a nearby hillock. This, according to our intrepid spotters, was where they’d stashed the previous night’s kill.

The carcass itself was just out of sight, but we were still afforded a great chance to observe the wolves as they took turns padding off to the dinner table. There were nosey greetings among the adults, while the pups wrestled and fell over each other and generally competed for attention. The animals’ thick, glossy coats varied enormously in colour, from streaky browns and creams to blue-grey and black. They moved beautifully too, with exactly the kind of loose-limbed swagger I’d imagined they would possess. In fact, the sheer attractiveness of the animals made it hard to imagine a time when Yellowstone’s wolves were the most ruthlessly hunted predators on earth.

The very last native Yellowstone wolf was killed in 1922, not by cattlemen or poachers, but by national park rangers. It was the culmination of an extermination program that targeted wolves in a misguided attempt to preserve the park’s elk herd. While this has since been acknowledged as an enormous error of judgement, it does go a long way towards explaining why these animals are now making such an emphatic comeback. Rather than the usual saga of habitat destruction and depletion of prey that has signalled the end for so many large carnivores, Yellowstone’s wolves were simply shot to extinction.

By the early 1990s, it was clear that elk numbers were growing beyond the park’s capacity to support them and discussions about reintroducing the grey (timber) wolf to Yellowstone began. In the winter of ‘94-‘95, four separate packs of wolves, numbering between three and six animals, were captured in Alberta, Canada and transported by truck to the park’s northern entrance. The packs – each a family group comprised of an alpha (dominant) male, alpha female and their offspring – were held for several weeks in separate pens, ready for release into different territories within the park. Things did not quite go to plan however, as on the day the pens were opened, the animals refused to leave. They’d been watching members of the release team manipulating the gates and now would not go near them. The stalemate ended when rangers managed to sneak around the fence perimeter and cut holes in the wire mesh, but the wolves had made their point; if they were going to make a new life for themselves in Yellowstone, they would do so on their own terms.

Twelve years after the release of the fourteen original transplanted wolves, there are now more than two hundred roaming the park in at least sixteen different packs. Unlike other large predators like grizzlies and mountain lions, the wolves have clearly identifiable territories, so the spotting squad can often predict where a particular group will be. The “Druid Peak” wolves are among the most visible, regularly observed and photographed during wolf-watching expeditions. Our spotters were able to confidently point out individuals, referring to them by number, and even talking us through a wolfie soap opera that was being played out. “Number 42, you can see her over to the left, tussling with the alpha female. They’re sisters, and they’ve been at each other like that for the past year. We figured it would end with the subordinate female being driven out of the pack, but a few months ago both sisters bore litters to the alpha male – which is pretty much unheard of – and now every day the balance of power see-saws between them.”

A new generation of wolves is thriving in the valleys and forests of Yellowstone, as if they know this is a place to which they have always belonged. No doubt the elk, deer and buffalo are less than pleased to be part of a functioning food chain once more, but for human visitors, the presence of these charismatic predators has added a fascinating dimension to the Yellowstone experience. And even the park rangers have finally learned to love them.