3 Among the Wolves

Bill and I had discovered a den in the Richardson Mountains occupied by a family of wolves the summer before. We had returned home to prepare to live through the next spring, summer, and fall alongside the den. In late fall we planned to leave the summer wolf pack and ski across the MacKenzie Delta to the northern coast of Canada, then beyond to the frozen sea ice off Canada’s northern coast. Our winter study would involve wolves and polar bears. We were about to enter a world where spring and summer plant growth accelerates unbelievably. As the summer solstice approaches, the summer sun stays above the horizon twenty-four hours a day bathing the tundra in continuous light for several weeks. Flowers, sedges and mosses grow with a frantic vigor to take advantage of the long days that all too soon are replaced by darkness and cold.

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The three of us set out from Dawson City, named after a Canadian geologist, Dr. George Mercer Dawson, to travel to the Richardson Mountains where we hoped to set up camp close to a wolf den we had discovered the year before. Nestled along the banks of the Yukon River in the Canadian Yukon, the historical town developed as a result of the fabulous Klondike Gold Rush of 1897-8. Thousands of fortune seekers faced the rigors of the rugged country and severe winter climate to dig for gold along creeks feeding the Klondike River. By 1900 the rush was over. A few fortunate men went home rich, but most, due to poor luck, gambling, and other hardships, returned without the wealth they sought. The town has a frontier look and feel to it with history at every corner. The city ballooned from a lonely trading post on a mud flat at the confluence of the Klondike and Yukon Rivers to a sprawling boom-town made up of log and frame buildings and tents. At the height of the gold rush years, an estimated 30,000 people lived in the area. After the city became the territorial capital large corporations moved in to buy individual claims and the great gold rush was over. In 1953 the capital was moved south to Whitehorse. Dawson City became a picturesque ghost town 200 miles south of the Arctic Circle with a population under 1,000. The cabin of Robert Service the famous poet is a popular attraction. It sits amidst the alders and willows on the outskirts of town. Service lived there from 1909 to 1912 and it was here that he wrote his melodramatic novel, "The Trail of Ninety-Eight" and composed his third and final volume of Yukon verse, "Songs of a Rolling Stone." He was a Scotchman who lived a spartan life in Dawson, absorbing all he could of the Yukon and its people.

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After leaving Dawson we reached the foothills of the Ogilvie Mountains. The U shaped valleys that fell away in long sweeping slopes were evidence of ancient glaciers. In the early spring large areas of snow and ice still covered the shaded sides of the mountain tops and valleys. Tombstone Mountain, a stark rocky peak 7,191 feet high, appeared in the distance. The mountain had been an important landmark to trappers and the Canadian Mounties who traveled this route by dog sled in the early years before the Dempster Highway was built. A quarter of a mile away a flock of Dall's sheep moved with their lambs down to a shallow river where they licked salt and other minerals from the banks before returning to the steep slopes of their mountain home. These are the only wild white sheep in the world and live high on the mountain rocky ledges where they find safety from wolves.



From the Ogilvie Mountains we looked north to a vast, open area of treeless tundra and rolling hills. Later, 254 miles from Dawson City we climbed a 1,000-foot high plateau to Eagle Plains with 360 degree views. The tiny wind swept settlement takes its name from a nearby river. We left Eagle Plains and crossed the invisible Arctic Circle from where the tundra stretched for miles northeast to the gray slopes of the Richardson Mountains where we would spend the next several months.

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The wide open tundra was breathtaking in its expanse. Its magnitude reduced things to mere specks. To some this seemingly empty place would hold no interest, but to us it radiated a wild pulse. In these enormous reaches we felt a new excitement as we took in the stark beauty of a land that for centuries had remained unchanged and knew no boundaries. At that moment we understood that wild animals must stay wild. These are the places that wolves belong. In a great expanse mostly devoid of humans, wildlife thrives. In the distance a small herd of woodland caribou grazed on the tundra grasses. Unlike their migrating cousins the woodland caribou remain in the same place summer and winter. The high pitched cry of Arctic terns floated on the gentle breeze. This species migrates all the way from the Arctic to the Antarctic, a distance of about 12,000 miles. They nest on gravel bars and along the shoreline gravel of rivers. The common fish inhabiting these rivers is the Arctic grayling. Less common are the Arctic char that live in the lakes and rivers. Bald eagles dived from their perches in the spruce and willows into the rivers to catch an unwary fish. After crossing the tundra we entered the Richardson Mountains named after Sir John Richardson, the scientist on Sir John Franklin’s expedition of 1819 that set out from England to discover the North West Passage.

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As we trekked deeper into the mountains the terrain became increasingly more rugged. We climbed steep rocky slopes and crossed over mountain passes. Our heavy packs made progress slow at times. After one strenuous morning we rested in the shade of spruce trees. Charlie stretched out full length to enjoy his noon nap while Bill and I leaned against two trees that made excellent back rests as we munched dried fruit and nuts. Suddenly the sharp crack of snapping twigs interrupted our tranquility. In an instant Charlie was on his feet staring in the direction of the sound. All at once a playful young grizzly galloped from the trees. The large form of another larger bear, probably his mother, remained in the shadows. The youngster perhaps only a year and a half old and about two hundred yards away picked up a stick, chewed it, then playfully tossed it in the air. Charlie, sensing no danger sat on his haunches and watched quietly. We were downwind and shielded by trees. Undetected, we sat motionless. I carefully lifted the camera and discreetly photographed the young grizzly as he played. As a precaution Bill reached for the shotgun. We watched, fascinated, as the little bear found a larger stick and stripped the course bark from its sides. He grappled with a small log, then splashed his way in and out of a small stream. Just as he rolled in the grass to dry, pig-like grunts came from deep within the forest. The young bear paused then loped back to his mother, his dark brown coat rippling in the breeze. Mother and son disappeared deeper into the forest. Charlie stood, stretched and lay down to finish his nap. Bill and I leaned against our two trees and began to breathe again, still incredulous that we has seen a young grizzly at play. ‘The right place at the right time,” Bill said.

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Around midnight Charlie, who had been sleeping on my sleeping bag, jumped to his feet, ears forward, alert. He listened to something outside. Expecting a bear, Bill grabbed the shotgun. Mirroring Charlie’s silence we listened. Outside we heard the faint sound of paws crossing the mossy ground. Wolves! Now we understood Charlie’s absolute silence. He knew that wolves had surrounded the tent. Although he was used to wolves in the Arctic, he chose a respectful silence around these strangers. Soon the footsteps faded and Charlie resumed his sleep.



In the first light of a clear crisp morning Charlie stepped from the tent, raised his nose to test the air for wolf scent then sent a long howl across the valley. Soon an answering howl erupted from a nearby ridge. A large black wolf stood watching us. In minutes he was joined by several others. We were closing in on the den and we were being watched. Charlie stood tall and proud, his tail curled high over his back, displaying his alpha status as he returned the black wolf’s unflinching stare. Minutes later the wolves silently disappeared. Because a pack’s hunting territory ranges over several square miles we were sure that these wolves belonged to our target family.

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All day we were aware of several wolves watching us as we trekked ever closer to the den. Charlie was calm and the wolves hadn’t panicked or shown any sign of nervousness. We had been encouraged that Charlie had received an answering howl. Perhaps our experiment that Charlie would pave the way for his two human companions might work. Over the next few days we traversed many precipitous caribou trails, steep mountain passes, and rocky slopes with precarious footing. We crossed areas of cotton grass, their snowy heads waving in the breeze. Early season wild flowers thrust their showy heads upward to meet the light. Bogs of brown and green moss occasionally blocked our path.

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After six days of navigating through the mountains under heavy packs we were close to the den. Under sunny skies we descended into a sheltered valley. To allow the wolves time to accept our approach to their den we slowed our pace. Charlie stopped frequently, preoccupied with wolf scent. He occasionally paused to howl then listened for a reply. Once in a while wolf voices that grew closer as the day wore on would answer him. Not only were we cautious in our approach to the den but were apprehensive concerning Charlie. We still had no idea if the pack would accept him. They might treat him as a dog and try to run him off or even try to kill him. Or they could see him as an aggressive strange wolf and attack. At the first sign of danger Bill and I had agreed, even before we began the journey, that we would immediately leave with Charlie. His safety was more important than our desire to study wolves. But so far we were encouraged as Charlie seemed to be in conversation with these wolves.

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We continued our slow non threatening advance toward the den hoping to gain the pack’s trust. As we veered around a rocky incline two wolves confronted us. Both stood motionless. Charlie stopped. For a few moments he calmly returned their steady gaze, then lay quietly in a submissive pose, head resting on his paws and head half turned way. Following his lead we sat and looked to the side. The two stone-still wolves continued their enquiring stare. Ten minutes later, without a sound they disappeared in the direction of the den.

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The next few days were critical. Sometimes we moved our tent only two hundred yards at a time. We were under constant surveillance. Charlie remained calm and usually only glanced at the wolves but when the black wolf approached he always showed submission. We guessed this to be the alpha male. It was important that to gain acceptance by the family Charlie could not show any threat toward the pack’s leader. As we pressed onward there were numerous times of testing from the wolves, demonstrations of submission from Charlie, and episodes when he ignored our neighbors. We did our best to follow his lead hoping that the wolf pack would regard Charlie as our leader and we humans as his pack. So far we were encouraged.



Eventually after nine days of cautious, unhurried maneuvering it was time to test the wolves. We needed to determine how close they would allow us to approach. With eyes averted to demonstrate nonaggression we edged closer. Suddenly the wolves gathered behind the alpha male and milled about, agitated and nervous. We retreated to a place 100 feet from the den and the pack, although on guard, settled down. This was as close as we could get. We set up camp in a tiny meadow with a shallow stream running close by. Now that the day’s tension had passed, tranquility spread across our camp. We breathed in the fresh scent of spruce trees and marveled at the lonely splendor of the mountains and ridges that surrounded us. The wolves had allowed us to camp closer to their den than we had ever imagined and although we knew that it would take time for them to fully trust Bill and I, they seemed to have accepted Charlie. Thanks to Charlie we had made it.

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During the next few weeks our days were spent wolf watching, getting to know each one’s personality, and gradually gaining acceptance for ourselves. There were seven adults altogether. In addition to the black alpha male we named Alpha, there was the blond alpha female we called Mother, Beta, an older male, Denali a long legged male with a luxurious coat was the lead hunter, and two one-year-old teenagers, Yukon and Klondike. The last wolf on the social ladder was Omega, a timid male who always ate last and appeared to be earning his place in the pack.

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The days continued to lengthen until they were filled with twenty-four hours of daylight. Late one night Mother disappeared into the den. Soon, judging by the happy reaction of the pack, we realized that the pups had been born. Three weeks later they emerged from the den accompanied by an anxious Mother. They were two fluffy mischievous brothers. At first they were not allowed to stray far from the den. If they did wander Mother picked them up around the rib cage and carried them back to the den entrance.



The entire family raised the pups. While Mother stayed close to the pups for the first few weeks the rest of the pack brought food to her. Mother formed a close bond with Charlie. It wasn’t long before the pups were playing with Charlie who became a patient uncle. Bill and I on the other hand, were careful not to get too close to the pups and never touch them. As they grew older they would have to deal with the wild, natural environment and it could be a hazard to their survival if they became too habituated to humans.

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Wolves love to play. Even the adults would play like puppies. They all played a variety of games. Their favorite seemed to be a game of chase, with tug-o-war a close second. Sometimes the teenagers would play too rough. A few well placed nips on a rump from an adult would remind the youngsters to use their manners. Discipline was very strict, especially toward the younger members. When in camp Charlie spent most of his day wolf watching. At nap time he would disappear into the tent to sleep on my sleeping bag. We eventually figured out a way to observe a hunt. Wolves traveled faster than we humans. After some experimentation we learnt to take short cuts across ridges and watched the wolves team up to hunt moose and Dall sheep.

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The wolves shared their hunting territory with a wide variety of animals and birds. The nearby beaver ponds were well populated. One day by chance we encountered a lynx that had just caught a bird. Wetlands provided habitat for moose and their calves. Woodland caribou lived in the wooded areas. Loons lived on the nearby lake, their distinctive calls sounding wolf-like. One day we watched the wolves share a carcass with a grizzly bear. Ravens lived in the clefts of the ridges. They often accompanied the wolves on a hunt hoping to share in the bounty. Sometimes they teased sleeping wolves until the tormented animal leaped up to chase the offending bird who simply flew upward to a safe perch.

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As the summer progressed the wolves were increasingly relaxed in our presence. We learnt wolf behavior in great detail first hand. Their love for each other, family bonding, and discipline was impressive. As the fall colors crept across the land it was time to say goodbye to our friends. It was difficult for us to leave, even more so for Charlie who had become very wolf-like. Although completely bonded to Bill and I, it was clear that he enjoyed his role as our alpha leader and he enjoyed his closeness to the wolves, Each one had become his friend. Soon the family would leave the den area with the pups who were now strong enough to travel long distances. As a family team the wolves would hunt and travel throughout their home range all winter long.

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After the first snowfall and with winter well on the way we left our friends with heavy hearts. The next stage of our wolf study was to travel north across the frozen rivers, the MacKenzie Delta, and onto the frozen Beaufort Sea north of the Canadian coast. Our northern Inuit friend, John, who had studied wolves for many years had told us of a wolf pack that lived in close harmony with polar bears on the frozen Beaufort Sea. We hoped to see the interaction between the bears and wolves. The land hid beneath a blanket of snow and ice. Dressed in cold weather clothing we pulled our supplies on sleds. Moose, snowy owls, and chattering ptarmigan were our occasional companions. The northern lights or aurora borealis were visible on clear nights. They are created by charged particles that penetrate the atmosphere along the magnetic field of the polar regions, creating a solar wind circling the world at high latitudes. The enormous wall of light, sometimes several hundred miles long, and at times more than 150 miles high, moved in waves across the heavens.

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As we approached Canada’s northern coast our greatest concern were polar bears. On this winter journey Charlie’s role had changed to polar bear guard dog. The sea ice proved to be a challenge just it had during my magnetic North Pole solo ski journey and my second ski journey to the Pole with Bill. As we left the land behind we pulled and shoved our supply laden sleds over ridges of ice and avoided treacherous thin ice.

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It wasn’t long before we met the first bears. An aggressive mother moved protectively closer to her two cubs. Sensing the danger Charlie responded with mouth-frothing growls as he lunged to end of his leash. With the cubs at her side the trio ran and disappeared into the jumbled ice. The crisis was over. Charlie had done his job. John had told us that we would find ourselves traveling among a large population of polar bears. And he was right! Polar bears eat seals and this area was a prolific seal habitat. There were other bears, some far away and others very close. Charlie was a devoted guard dog, protecting his humans from harm.

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Traversing rough ice and formidable pressure ridges, we arrived at an area of open water. Six seal-hunting bears paced the edges followed by five wolves and numerous arctic foxes that dodged in and out avoiding the wolves and bears. John had told us that a wolf family regularly followed the bears in this area of the frozen ocean. We watched from a safe distance as more wolves approached the hunting bears. For years we had been puzzled by the presence of wolves far out on the sea ice. Wolves’ normal habitat is on land where they hunt land-based prey such as moose and caribou. They are not the natural swimmers that polar bears are and don’t have the weight and strength to break through ice to find seal liars. We had suspected that there must be some sort of food sharing between bears and wolves. John had told us of several occasions in which he had seen this behavior. As the light faded we retreated to make camp a safe distance away. We had spent many years traveling among polar bears and we reasoned that the bears were concentrating on the seal hunt and wouldn’t take too much notice of us.

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As day light appeared the bears still roamed the edges of the ice. They had hunted throughout the night. We weren’t surprised that day and night were the same to these sea ice hunters. One large male hovered over a patch of ice several feet from the edge. Suddenly he rose on his hind legs and crashed down on enormous front paws to land his full weight over a seal liar. The ice broke. He thrust his head through the opening and yanked out a struggling seal and dumped it on the ice. In seconds he had crushed its head and tore off strips of blubber.



A wolf we called Patch because of a large dark patch over his rump stood a few feet away and watched. Occasionally the bear growled a warning to the wolf not to approach his meal. After he had consumed most of the blubber, the fatty part of the seal, the bear left the meaty part of the carcass and returned to the water’s edge. The wolf immediately claimed the body while foxes scampered just out of reach hoping for leftovers. The rest of his family soon joined the wolf. Later the skeleton was left for the foxes. We were now beginning to understand how wolves survived on the ice. Polar bears were the key.

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Next day we decided to stay to watch activities. The wolves began to take on personalities. We had already seen Patch in action. A large blond male wolf we called Blondy approached the hunting bears with a limping female at his side. They seemed to be a bonded pair. Another smaller male wolf loped with a peculiar crab like gait. We called him Crab. Two more wolves were almost identical in their gray coats. Once, as Patch approached the group they all ran in circles and muzzled each other, then ran in circles again. It seemed to be a game. It was obvious that these wolves were a family. The wolves returned to shadow the bears. We watched as another bear dived into the water and emerged with a thrashing seal. This time after the bear killed the seal he left it on the ice without taking a single bite and returned to pace the edges of the ice watching for more seals. The wolves rushed to the body and tore at the flesh. One wolf we called Smudge took a large piece and delivered it to Blondy who, without eating any, took it to his limping female companion and laid it at her feet. She immediately gobbled the food. This family was showing the same caring characteristics that the summer family had shown us. Over the next several days we saw many more instances of food sharing not only between bears and wolves, but also both species sharing with foxes. The process that we had suspected to exist captivated us. The bears caught the seal, ate mostly the blubber, and left the carcass for the wolves and foxes. We theorized that after the sea ice had frozen solid in the fall the wolves and foxes followed the bears to share in the seal kills. During several years of Arctic travel this was the first time we had seen this sequence of events. The large number of bears and wolves we had encountered was no doubt due to open water and a plentiful seal population creating a perfect hunting ground.

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Later after the hunting frenzy eased and the bears, wolves, and foxes moved on we continued our journey north across more sea ice in the direction of Richards and Pullen Islands. We traversed our way around open water, climbed over numerous pressure ridges and spent an entire morning running for our lives when we were caught in the middle of a major ice break up. After reaching our most northerly point off the coast of Pullen Island we turned south to return to the Canadian coast. Our time on the sea ice was at times hair-raising and dangerous, but it had been worth all the danger to see the interaction between unlikely species of animals.

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After crossing the fragile coastal ice we were back on solid land that felt good beneath our feet. We headed to an area deep within the Mackenzie Delta where our friend had told us we would find wolves. According to his observations this family did not follow the traditional wolf winter lifestyle. Instead, after hunting they rendezvoused at a central location. We were treated to more Northern Light displays as we skied and pulled our sleds across the frozen Delta that in summer is a mosquito infested wetland.



We struggled through snow drifts and battled a storm of gale force winds that almost flattened our tent. We hauled our sleds through wearisome, challenging willow thickets that grabbed our sleds and packs. Wolf tracks became more numerous as we approached a forested area far into the Delta interior. We skied toward a thin patch of wind-tormented trees and saw more tracks, most fairly old. After we reached a meager forest on higher ground we pitched our tent. We had a fine view of the open Delta, its frozen immensity enfolding us on three sides in the serenity of total isolation. The wilderness here remained in deep winter’s brittle grip. Charlie sensed wolves ahead and now his manner changed from polar bear guard dog to more wolf-like. He frequently raised his nose to catch wolf scent and once in a while he howled long and musical. Eventually from deep within the frozen forest just ahead came an answering howl followed by the appearance of a lone wolf. This was the family John had described to us. We guessed this wolf to be an alpha judging by his confident appearance. Soon he was joined by several others who remained almost hidden in the trees. Charlie immediately marked his territory, including our tent, just as he had when camped close to the summer wolves. The alpha male was cautious as he approached a little closer. He appeared far less confident and confrontational than Alpha, the summer leader.

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The next few weeks added to our store of knowledge concerning wolves and their behavior. The camp-site proved to be a perfect place to learn and observe. Charlie was overjoyed to once more camp close to wolves and they soon accepted him. Eventually we gained the family’s trust. John arrived on his snowmobile and shared his knowledge of this pack that he had studied for so long. He helped us find a way to observe a hunt. Charlie and the alpha male we named MacKenzie formed a particularly close bond. Very soon it became clear by his actions that this leader wanted Charlie to join the family. But Charlie was completely bonded to Bill and I, and although we could only guess, we thought that he had found the prospect of joining this family very enticing. As spring approached it was time to leave. Our winter interaction with two wolf families and our experience on the frozen ocean and the Mackenzie Delta had been all that we had hoped for. After breaking camp we skied away pulling our sleds. MacKenzie followed for a distance and judging by his body language he did not want us to leave. Obviously Charlie was his close friend. Charlie did well. He knew we had to leave just as we had to leave the summer pack. Mackenzie looked sad. After Charlie glanced back at him a few times we finally disappeared into the forest on our way home. John still watches over this family and keeps us updated. We have returned several times to check on the summer wolf family. Both families are doing well. These journal entries cover only a small portion of this story. After I returned home I wrote Three Among the Wolves. I realized this was the only way I could ever hope to tell the full story that took a year to unfold.

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