The rise of wolf 8, p.13
The Rise of Wolf 8, page 13
The Wolf Project was part of the Yellowstone Center for Resources (YCR). YCR employees, mostly biologists, some with PhD degrees, did research on the park’s wildlife, plant communities, and geothermal features. Their main task was resource monitoring and management.
Both the Wolf Project’s lead biologist, Doug Smith, and I felt we had an obligation to share what we were learning about the park wolves with visitors. Because of my years as a naturalist, that was already the normal thing for me to do. I continued to invite people to see wolves through my spotting scope and talked to them about the reintroduction program. I no longer had scheduled evening programs or nature walks. Instead, I sought out kids on school field trips, college classes visiting the park, wildlife tour groups, and regular park visitors. After helping people see wolves, I gave them impromptu roadside talks. In some years, I did about two hundred of those talks, far more than I had done when I had been a park naturalist.
In my new job with the Wolf Project, I always tried to keep the Yellowstone Mission Statement in mind. For me, the most important parts of that document were
Yellowstone is home of the grizzly bear and wolf and free-ranging herds of bison and elk. . . . The National Park Service preserves, unimpaired, these and other natural and cultural resources and values for the enjoyment, education, and inspiration of this and future generations.
The key word in that mission statement is for. We preserve the wildlife and natural features of the park for a reason. We do it for the enjoyment, education, and inspiration of park visitors, current and future.
The enjoyment and education components of that mission were easy to accomplish. Everyone who saw wolves through my scope greatly enjoyed the experience, and all were eager to learn about them. The inspiration part came in when I talked about early rangers killing all of Yellowstone’s original wolves and how we rectified that mistake by mounting a reintroduction program. It was an inspiring story. Telling people about wolf 8 going from being a picked-on pup to an alpha male was also inspirational. That was my mission and I stayed on it.
Another key word in the statement was unimpaired. That meant animals such as wolves and grizzlies should be allowed to live their lives unimpaired by people visiting Yellowstone. Rangers needed to manage situations when people approached animals or blocked them when they needed to cross the road or return to a feeding area. It also meant we had to prevent habituation of bears and wolves to humans so if they left the protection of the park, they would not think it was safe to be near people, some of whom might want to kill them.
THE DRUIDS WERE the primary focus of my observations in the spring of 1998. One morning when I was monitoring the den site, I watched a play session between two female year-lings: 105 and 103, her smaller sister. 103 picked up a stick and romped around in front of her sister, like she was daring her to chase her. After a lengthy pursuit, both paused to rest, then the bigger sister did a play bow to get the game going again. Both females ran in circles as they played. When 105 lagged behind, 103 stopped, threw the stick in the air, and caught it. She frolicked around with it like a golden retriever waiting for its owner to resume a game of fetch. When that did not work, she dropped the stick right in front of her playmate, then snatched it up and ran off again when her sister took the bait and lunged for it. The chase continued until 103 intentionally dropped the stick. Now it was 105’s turn to grab it and run.
Once the sisters got bored with that game, they wrestled each other. I got the sense 105 was letting her little sister pin her. After seeing that behavior and other examples of pups and yearlings playing and bigger wolves letting smaller ones win, I came to think that larger siblings will sometimes pretend to lose wrestling matches to keep play sessions going. Otherwise, smaller wolves would eventually avoid playing with siblings that always beat them.
When I worked in Glacier, I had a friend named Bill who owned a wolf-dog mix called Kintla. He was a big, tough-looking animal, and most people were initially afraid of him. One day I was in Bill’s house with Kintla, and we began a game of chase around the dining-room table. Kintla chased me, but he deliberately ran slower than normal so that he never caught me. I stopped and looked back at him. He also stopped and studied me intently, then turned around and ran the other way. I took that as an invitation to chase him and went after him.
As I ran around that table, Kintla repeatedly looked over his shoulder at me, making sure I was still chasing him. He ran at a pace that allowed to me keep up. We both soon stopped and looked at each other, then it was his turn to chase me again. I knew he could catch and pin me any moment he chose. Kintla knew that as well, but he wanted to play and pretended to be afraid of me so he could prolong the fun. Those minutes playing with Kintla were the closest I ever came to experiencing what it might be like to be a wolf.
When I later thought about the moments when Kintla ran from me, allowing me to chase him, it reminded me of something from my childhood. My brother, Alan, was six years older than me, a big difference when you are six years old. I remember a game he invented that was great fun. Back in those days whole chickens bought in grocery stores came with the feet and claws attached. Alan pretended to be terrified of those feet. Each time our mother returned with a chicken, I would secretly go to the refrigerator, pull off a leg, hold it so the foot was sticking out, then sneak up and charge at my brother. Seeing the chicken foot about to grab him, like in some horror movie, he ran off, acting scared to death. I did that repeatedly to him and it always worked. But I knew it was really just a game, and he was pretending to be scared.
I thought about how the principle of a bigger wolf letting a smaller one win might apply to 21. He was so big as a pup and yearling that, like 105, he probably figured out that he needed to let his smaller brothers and sisters win their share of chases and wrestling contests to keep the play going. I decided to look for opportunities to see 21 playing with the Druid yearlings and adult females to see if he behaved that way with them.
THAT SPRING, THE Druids were having a lot of trouble getting food to the pups because their den was on the north side of the park road, and their main hunting area was to the south. People parked in the nearby lots would see the wolves approaching the road, run to their cars, and drive down to the likely crossing spot to take photos. The wolves would back off, circle around, and try another crossing point, only to get blocked there as well. The law-enforcement rangers put up No Stopping signs at the most common crossing sites near the den, and I was given a big red stop sign so that I could work as a wolf-crossing guard if necessary. 42 was the savviest Druid wolf regarding road crossings. She would run to the road, slow down, look both ways, then, if no cars were heading toward her, race across to the other side.
Every day that I observed the wolves, I learned more about them. In late May, I was on Dead Puppy Hill watching the den site to the north when I spotted 40 alone down by the creek below me. I lost her on the west side of the hill. An hour later, she suddenly appeared just downhill from my position. I was already sitting and crouched down farther, hoping she would not notice me. She looked my way, then walked toward me, sniffing the ground. I had the impression that she was not seeing me. When she crossed the route I had taken uphill and got my scent, she instantly ran back the way she came.
What I concluded from that incident was that wolves do not do well at seeing details, especially if an animal or person is motionless. The wolf had looked in my direction but seemed unsure of who or what was there. Then she had walked toward me with her nose to the ground, picked up my scent, and run off. I later learned that wolves are very good at detecting motion, even at great distances. Often, I would see a wolf traveling through Lamar Valley pause and stare intently in some direction, then go that way and chase a far-off elk I had been totally unaware of.
NOW THAT 39 and 41 were no longer with the pack, I wanted to see how the domineering alpha female treated her sister 42. On June 2, 42 was bedded apart from the others. The alpha pair and three of the yearlings ran toward her with 40 in the lead. 42 went into a submissive posture, then rolled onto her back. As soon as the alpha female reached her sister, she bit her hard several times for no apparent reason. After 40 left, 42 went to 21, and the two had a friendly greeting.
I noticed that 42 often went to 21 after aggressive treatment from her sister. I saw some film footage taken by Jim Halfpenny around that time when 42 ran off to 21 after 40 had attacked her. The alpha female raced after her, then stopped and evaluated the situation. 21 just stood there, next to 42, in a neutral but confident posture. I had the impression that 40 did not know how to react. Whatever she was thinking, she walked off, leaving her sister alone.
Other times, 21 took the initiative to show his support for 42. Later that year, when 42 was standing off nervously by herself, wary of getting close to the alpha female, 21 left the other wolves, walked over, and stood next to her as the rest of the pack socialized. As he had with the sick pup in the spring of 1997, I think he noticed she was in distress and went over to be with her.
21 took great care to attend to the needs of his new pack. He was usually the first to bring meat from a kill back to the pups. Early one morning, the pack pulled down an adult elk at the Chalcedony Creek rendezvous site. 21 went back to the den two hours later to feed the pups while the other adults stayed at the site and slept. When they returned to the carcass in the evening, 21 joined them, then, after feeding, he trotted right back to the den. 40 seemed less concerned than 21 about bringing food to the pups.
One evening in mid-June, I heard the Druid wolves howling from their den forest. In addition to the low-pitched calls from the adults and yearlings, I heard higher-pitched howls that had to be coming from the pups. For the very first time, I was hearing pups sired by 21.
17
The Character of a Wolf
ONE DAY THAT June, I did an afternoon and evening den-monitoring shift on Dead Puppy Hill with Linda’s thesis supervisor, Jane Packard. As we watched the Druid den forest, Jane told me stories about monitoring the Rose Creek dens in 1996 and 1997 when 21 was still with his natal pack. She noticed that if 21 was not around when 8 wanted to go out on a hunt, he would howl and wait. When 21 showed up, the pair would take off to seek out elk. 21 usually reached the targeted animal first and got a holding bite on it. 8 would catch up and help 21 pull it down and finish it off. Her stories showed that 8 clearly depended on his adopted son’s size, strength, speed, and hunting skill to help him feed the pack. He relied on the big male the way the captain on a high school football team relies on his best player to catch a pass, run past the defensive players, and score a touchdown. In ranching terms, 21 was 8’s top hand.
Because they spent a lot of time watching the Rose Creek dens in 1996 and 1997, I also talked with Wolf Project volunteers Debbie Lineweaver and Jason Wilson about their impressions of the relationship between 8 and 21. Debbie told me the two males seemed to have an understanding that they needed to cooperate to get things done for the pack, especially hunting and bringing food back to the den. She said they divided up the responsibilities of feeding and protecting the family and used the term “co-leadership.” Jason told me he never saw the older wolf dominate 21 or witnessed the younger wolf challenge the wolf who had adopted him in any way. “They had an easy relationship,” he told me, “with no dominance or class distinction.” He added that it “was a partnership of equals.”
I never saw 8 exert his dominance over 21, either. 8 had what I would call an even-tempered, confident personality. In the spring of 1997, when 21 was two years old, about twenty-two in human years, and surpassing 8 in size and strength, they functioned perfectly together. It was clear to me that 21 respected 8 as the pack’s alpha male and as the wolf that had raised him, and 8 valued what 21 did for the family. Debbie called them co-leaders, and Jason said it was a partnership. I would add to their comments the idea of friendship. To me, the Rose Creek adult males were like two dogs who liked being together. Alpha male 8’s easy confidence was in sharp contrast to the aggression shown by the Druid alpha female 40, who seemed insecure in her position and needlessly and repeatedly dominated her sister and the three younger females. As I watched her bully and beat them up, I wondered whether she was worried they might one day turn on her.
Despite 21’s new responsibilities as the Druids’ alpha male, including the need to get ever-increasing amounts of food to the growing pups, he took time out to play. I saw 40 approach him, then suddenly turn around and run away, an obvious invitation to play catch me if you can. He sped after her and they raced through scattered trees. Soon she turned around and charged at him. He saw her coming and ran away, pretending to be afraid of her. It was just like the time Kintla and I had traded off on chasing each other around the dining-room table.
As the pups matured, the Druid adults began to roam farther afield on hunts. Doug Smith did a tracking flight on June 21 and found the alpha pair and two yearlings out of the park to the east, near Crandall Creek, the area where 31 and 38 had been shot the previous fall. We were nervous about the situation, then relieved when the wolves were safely back in Lamar on June 23. On another flight three days later, the alphas were spotted twenty miles to the south in Pelican Valley, feeding on a bull elk carcass in the heart of Crystal Creek territory. 21 and 40 were there alone. If the eight adults and yearlings in the Crystal Creek pack got the scent of the carcass and found the two Druids in their homeland, they would attack. To protect 40, 21 would have to fight them, including the Crystal alpha male, wolf 6, one of the few males in the park who was bigger than he was. But luck was with them, and the next morning I got both of their signals back at the den forest.
As I continued to watch the pack, I began to pick up differences in the personalities of the yearlings. There was wolf 104, the enterprising black who had killed the bison in the spring. His gray brother, wolf 107, was bigger, but did not seem to have 104’s initiative or willingness to risk injury. I once saw the larger brother chase a cow elk, but when he caught up to her, he just nipped at her hind legs. He looked like a dog that had caught up with the car he was chasing and now didn’t know what to do with it. As he ran after the cow, he fell and tumbled over several times. I could not tell if the elk had kicked him or if he had tripped.
When he got up, he must have seen that the cow was limping badly, which should have given him a big advantage, but on catching up with her again, 107 stopped and just watched her run away. My impression of 104, in contrast, was that he never gave up when a good opportunity was in front of him. He would keep working a situation until he found a solution. If he spotted a cow with a bad limp, he would finish the job. DNA analysis later showed that he was 42’s son. His larger brother was never collared, so we never knew if they were full or half brothers.
I continued to monitor how the five Druid females interacted with each other. I had already noticed that 42 was much more attentive to the yearlings than the alpha female was. On one earlier occasion, after 40 had aggressively pinned 41, I watched as 42 went to her black sister and began playing. It was like seeing someone going up to a bullied girl and befriending her.
One day in late June, yearlings 103 and 106 ran past 40 to greet 42. When the alpha female ran over in a dominant posture, 42 dropped to the ground and rolled on her back under her sister. 40 snapped at her and walked away. Cautiously, 42 got up in a low crouch. On seeing that, 40 ran back and snapped at her again. 42 rolled on the ground, then reached up and licked 40’s face to appease her and demonstrate subordinate status. It seemed to help, for the alpha female allowed her to get up. I later wondered if 40 went after her sister because the young females had rushed to greet 42 rather than her.
Then I saw 21 do something that enhanced my already high opinion of him: he went to 40 and initiated a play session with her, the way a human father might play with a child that was acting out. After lightening the mood by distracting her with play, 21 ran circles around the other wolves and did play bows to them. 40 and the yearlings were soon chasing him. Then 21 turned around, and he and the year-lings chased her. After fleeing a short distance, she reversed directions and chased him once more. I saw 21 running sideways as he looked back at her. Suddenly, he dropped down in tall grass, set up an ambush, and leaped up and chased her when 40 ran in. Then he went to the yearlings and played with them.
All that time 42 stood apart from the others, as though she was unsure what would happen if she joined in and encountered her aggressive sister. I noticed all the other wolves were now chasing 40 and she was running sideways, as 21 had done, so she could look back at them in a manner that dared them to try to catch her. 21 caught up with her and the pair played together. They stood up against each other, chest to chest, and sparred with their jaws and paws. Then she chased 21 and ran circles around him when he fell, probably deliberately. When he got up, he chased her.
I looked around for 42 and saw she was now playing with the yearlings. The pack was back to normal, with all the tension dissipated, thanks to 21. He was a peacemaker who used play to restore feelings of goodwill in his family. During episodes like that, 21 acted not as the big-shot alpha male, but as the pack’s court jester. He might have been the biggest and toughest male in the neighborhood, but he had no problem playing the fool.
A lot had already happened with the pack that day, but there was one more incident to come. For 42, it was a real-life example of the saying “Every dog has its day.” I saw the wolves chasing a pronghorn fawn. It disappeared suddenly in a patch of thick sage, probably because it had collapsed from exhaustion. The pack sniffed around the brush, searching for it. A moment later, I saw 42 running off with the dead fawn in her mouth. 40 wagged her tail at her sister, as though she now wanted to be friends and get a share of the fawn. But 42 ignored her, ran farther away, then bedded down. She kept the fawn to herself and ate it. 40 respected her sister’s right to the food and did not bother her.
