3 Among the Wolves (18 page)

When not hunting, the teens at first joined Beta in pup-sitting chores. They not only played with the brothers but also kept them close to the den. Later, after the pups moved to the rendezvous site, Beta sometimes rested from his teaching duties. Then the teens accompanied the pups on short sojourns through the spruce trees to a meadow flanked by sheer rock walls, where a few noisy ravens nested in crevices. An abundant lemming population lived in burrows beneath this carpet of moss, which would become a perfect place for the young wolves to learn to hunt.

The pups displayed separate temperaments as they matured. One was clearly more dominant, even to the extent of sometimes baring tiny white teeth in his fiercest growl, while his brother was the clown, racing around in blissful happiness.

As they grew, their boldness reached impressive levels. They stalked Klondike and Yukon and, at just the right moment, pounced and grabbed the teens' tails and pulled as if to separate each tail from its owner. One midday a little brother climbed onto Yukon's reclining body, with the end of the teen's tail firmly clasped in his sharp teeth, to gain extra leverage from the higher vantage point. His sibling raced to help, and with both standing on top of poor Yukon pulling with all their might,
it wasn't long before she rose with a yelp of protest. The gray bundles slid to the ground in a heap.

Sometimes a pup attacked an adult's tail while his brother grabbed the ears. We marveled that the teenagers and Beta retained any ears at all. The pup-sitters regained peace only when they swatted the offenders as a reminder that even babies must follow the rules. The destruction of tails and ears was forbidden.

The pups were a great source of entertainment for us. Often, after eating their fill of fresh meat, they played on top of the food, much to the annoyance of the adults still eating. A growl and a firm swat usually removed them from the dinner table. When a pup buried something to keep as his own there was invariably an indignant yowl of protest from the owner when his brother discovered the treasure and stole it.

Charlie did not escape the pups' play. He watched them with his soft gaze and, with enticing yips, occasionally invited them to visit when he sat close to his boundary. While still very young, they would wobble over and pull his tail. As they grew, they climbed on his prone body and wrestled with his thick wolflike fur. Then one day they found his ear. As tiny teeth clamped down, Charlie suddenly jerked his head upward, dumping one pup on the ground. Charlie instantly reached out to pin the offender with a large paw. His sibling slid off Charlie's back, landed within reach of Charlie's other paw, and found himself pinned just like his brother. Charlie allowed them to break free only after considerable squirming. They swung to attack again, but Charlie decided that it was time for the game to end. He stood and sounded two yips that brought Mother and Beta on the run. They each picked up a pup and carried him home.

We were delighted to see that the wolves didn't mind Charlie's occasional interaction with the pups. They apparently sensed that their offspring were safe with him.

As the pups grew, their eyesight improved. They would stare across to where they thought Charlie should be, then make a beeline for him. One afternoon he took them to the stream to join him in a drink. But instead of lapping the water they tried to nuzzle Charlie, apparently assuming that he would provide them with water from his mouth, the same way the adults regurgitated meat for them. Charlie, no doubt puzzled, ignored their odd behavior and kept on lapping until they got the hint. The pups enjoyed playing in the water, leaping at the ripples that flowed by, although they made no attempt to explore farther downstream among the willows, where the grizzly had emerged weeks before.

Most of the time Charlie was content to watch the pups' antics from a distance. After they lost their baby habits, he no longer invited them to play. When they approached his boundary, he informed them with a soft but authoritative growl that he preferred that they observe his property rights. They were quick to learn his limits and stay back. We were also concerned that if they spent too much time in Charlie's territory, our relationship with their family might be impaired, so we often
shooed them back home. By the time the pups moved to the rendezvous site, they were staying in their own territory exclusively. All the wolves respected Charlie's scent marks. After we caught the adults snooping around the tent, they crossed the invisible line only sporadically, usually just to run across a corner to inspect the tiny movement of a lemming, which of course demanded instant attention.

As we became more familiar with the wolves, we also grew more adept at recognizing their various facial expressions. The wolves' normal expression was relaxed, except when they submitted to a higher-ranking wolf. Then they groveled, held their heads low, flattened their ears, and turned their lips downward. At times they offered an apologetic paw from a turned-away body. When angry they pulled their lips back into a snarl and wrinkled their muzzles, displaying long white fangs. At playtime they smiled, with lips pulled back and slightly turned up at the corners.

Differences were often settled with snarls or sharp nips on shoulders or rumps. Occasionally, a wolf of a higher rank pinned and stood over a subservient member after some transgression, such as an attempt to eat out of turn. The teens and pups, although often disciplined for misbehavior, were never injured. We never observed a serious adult fight that ended in injury. Even pack scapegoat Omega, although sometimes picked on and cowed, was never harmed.

One evening after watching from our usual lookout ridge above the junction, we took a shortcut to where the wolves appeared headed for a hunt. But we chose the wrong route and were soon left far behind. Giving up, we explored a new ridge and then returned to camp, where we found that Yukon and Klondike, who had remained at the rendezvous site with the pups, had scattered a carton of breakfast cereal that we had purposely left outside the tent as a test. Of course, when we appeared, both wolves sat innocently paying attention to the pups. Yukon walked a few steps toward us as if curious to know
whether we noticed the mess, but scurried away when we looked in her direction.

A mortified Charlie sniffed the area. Then he strode resolutely to his scent marks and proceeded to slowly and deliberately refresh his posts with frequent resentful glances toward the young neighbors. They slumped with heads on paws, eyes averted from Charlie's wrathful stare. For a half hour he silently punished them, but then dinnertime arrived. The moment Charlie went inside our tent for his meal, the two young wolves visibly relaxed and rose to their feet. Perhaps they heaved a collective sigh of relief that at last they were forgiven. They never disturbed our tent or belongings again.

Early one sunny mid-August morning, in temperatures that hovered around freezing, we headed out to follow Denali, who led Alpha, Mother, and Omega on a hunt. The foursome loped along at a good pace, generally avoiding getting sidetracked by interesting things along the trail.

On the tundra, two female moose with two large calves grazed in the distance. One mother raised her head and saw the wolves, and then all four bolted to the north at a fast pace, quickly disappearing into the safety of a distant valley. The wolves stopped, as if to gauge their chances of success. Apparently having decided that a chase was useless, they chose a faint easterly path into a sheltered valley of scrub trees. They soon left us far behind to explore new territory.

We followed a foot-wide game trail that branched off toward another more westerly area. It was used regularly, judging by the tufts of fur and dried scats that lay here and there. Burrows, once
the home of small rodents, had been dug up and investigated. At one side, the bleached bones of an old wolf kill had been picked clean by ravens and other creatures.

Charlie was fascinated by the smorgasbord of wild scents in the air. He continually sniffed the breeze for more. We entered a grove of twenty-foot-high trees at least three hundred years old. They were like bonsai, twisted from winter ice storms.

We stepped across a narrow stream, pausing to listen to the never-ending whisper of water, then trekked around a miniature lake, where a bull moose browsed alone on tender aquatic plants. Charlie jumped ahead to the end of his leash, wanting to give chase, but after a few tugs from Bill reluctantly gave up. Ahead lay a steep ridge.

As we carefully picked our way up the unstable rocks to the top, a howl seemed to come from the crest above us, followed by calls more distant. “There must be a strange pack somewhere to the west,” Bill said.

Charlie's body was tense and alert. I instantly pulled him close for security, just in case we were about to encounter strange wolves who might regard him as a threat. It was more likely that they would run from us, I reassured myself.

With the last precarious footholds behind us, we reached the summit. As our breathing settled after the climb, we gasped in surprise. Our wolves had quickly circled through the rough terrain and were standing as still as statues two hundred feet ahead, staring at six wolves on the next ridge to the west.

Upon our arrival, the strangers spun in alarm to watch us, then nervously turned to depart. Alpha's howl stopped them in their tracks. Bill and I instantly stepped a few paces back and sat down with our eyes averted to indicate submission, while Charlie stood at our side, neither submissive nor assertive.

Still suspicious, the distant wolves stared for a minute or two. A thick-chested, almost completely black wolf with gray flecks, his authority evident in his firm stance, replied to Alpha's
howl with a half-dozen warning barks. Alpha, his proud carriage projecting leadership, sent back a long, full-throated howl, while Mother, Denali, and Omega joined in different pitches.

As the howls slid down the scale to yips, the six strangers relaxed a little, still keeping an eye on us. They replied with shorter, higher calls. The echoes subsided into a silence that seemed to have a life of its own. No animosity appeared to exist between the two packs, only the friendly recognition of neighbors. The strangers appeared to be ignoring us, but Bill and I cautiously remained sitting.

Charlie now sat on his haunches alongside us, placidly watching the neighbors. He seemed to understand the situation, while we could only hope we were doing the right thing by demonstrating submission.

The abundant wolf scats and deep scratch marks on the ridge top were signs that wolves often frequented the area. Alpha scent-marked the spot, while his three companions watched the handsome gray-black stranger mark his pack's scent line. Then the two groups observed each other from their respective vantage points. Occasionally a wolf rose to urinate on or sniff scent marks, and sometimes even defecated, but each pack respected the other's territory.

Charlie continued to sit quietly, making no attempt to scent-mark. Bill and I sat still and avoided direct eye contact with the strangers. After a half hour, as if responding to a signal, the wolves of both sides rose to their feet and let loose with a long, jubilant howling that lasted for several minutes. Their spine-tingling song filled the valley, echoed off the mountainsides, then faded into the rustling of the chilling breeze.

With the concert finished, both families sniffed their own scent marks, then left in opposite directions. The strangers disappeared into the shadows of a deep ravine. Throughout the entire episode, none of the wolves attempted to cross the sedge- and
lichen-covered area between the ridges. Scent marks were the “keep out” signs marking an area off limits by mutual agreement.

We couldn't discern whether the wolves had encountered each other purely by chance this time, but we suspected, judging by the scats and scratches on the ridge, that it was not their first meeting. The friendly atmosphere indicated that some of the wolves in each pack might even be related to each other. Wolf biologist David Mech, founder of the International Wolf Center in Ely, Minnesota, has found that wolves recognize relatives even after several years of separation. A noted expert on wolves, Mech has studied the animals in North America and the Arctic for more than thirty years. Young wolves sometimes leave the pack, or “disperse,” according to Mech, to form their own family or join another pack. Some dispersal, which mixes genes with other families, is essential for the genetic health of the wolf population as a whole. If wolves remained for life with their birth family, inbreeding would eventually degrade the population's health with deformities and a decreased immune system.