Two days later, Jim again crawled into the den, with Scott and George once more on guard, to check on the condition of the survivors. To the consternation of all, he found that the other two females had died. A hasty conference followed. It was decided that Jim would remove the remaining pup and would try to raise him in the house, provided that the little wolf had not already been infected by whatever disease had caused the deaths of his litter mates.
The effect that these losses had on the pack was predictable, for when any puppies are lost, wolves mourn as deeply as might a human family faced by similar tragedies. If there are survivors, the bereavement is more bearable, but if all the young wolves die, the grief is intense and, in my view, approximately equal to that sustained by our own species, although the duration and outward manifestations of the sorrow can and do vary in accordance with the emotional makeup of the family, as is also the case with humans.
Denali and Shawano expressed their grief in a controlled way, but they could not hide it from Jim’s experienced eyes. The first pup’s death was evidently accepted more calmly and did not cause the wolves to mourn unduly, although Denali was seen to take her little daughter’s body out of the den and bury it at the far, north end of the enclosure, a grave that was never disturbed by any of the wolves, even though these animals habitually dig up old bones or the remains of animals that are encountered in their territory. But when the two females died and were likewise buried by their mother, and when Jim took the little male to his house, the three wolves seemed disconsolate. Brigit, despite having been harassed by the Alphas from mid-February until about ten days before the birth of the litter, showed by her behaviour that she felt the loss as keenly as Denali and Shawano. And she joined her daughter in searching the enclosure for the missing male pup, a frantic rushing about accompanied by frequent whining that was kept up for two days and nights, after which, with the uncanny perception of their kind, they at last realized that the pup, whom Jim had by now named Thor, was still alive.
Because of their keen sense of smell, they scented the cub on Jim’s clothing and person whenever he entered the den, showing their awareness by the excited way in which they sniffed him and licked at his hands. And it is probably certain that the wolves could also hear little Thor whenever he whined or uttered his plaintive baby howls. But beyond these well-documented senses, those of us who have deep empathy with wolves feel that they have ways of sensing events the manifestations of which are far beyond the reach of known perceptions and are, of course, outside the limits of human understanding. In any event, Jim felt that the way in which the wolves acted toward him suggested that they may have held him at least partially accountable for the loss of their litter. They did not show hostility toward him, but they were extremely reserved in his presence and for a time did not greet him with the same joyous exuberance they had usually demonstrated whenever he had previously entered the enclosure. The pack also became more distrustful of the student observers and were subdued in their dealings with each other. Denali and Brigit often whined softly as they trotted somewhat aimlessly through the forested section of territory, and Shawano spent much time alone on the huge rock that is located in the southeast corner of the enclosure, within sight of the Wuepper home.
Two years later, when Jim told me about all of this, it was clear that he still harboured a sense of guilt, even though the removal of Thor from the probably contaminated den may well have saved the wolf’s life. But as he told me about the pack’s reaction when, after several weeks, he put Thor back into the enclosure, he positively glowed with pleasure. Even before Jim, carrying Thor against his chest, had closed his house door, the wolves rushed up to the fence and began whining and dancing, climbing over each other in their excitement. When Thor was actually placed on the ground and ran toward his mother, the wolves crowded around him, at first intimidating him, but when the pup realized that he could play-fight with each one in turn with complete impunity and that every wolf allowed him to do pretty much as he liked, his happiness was complete. The wolfing was already weaned, and when he mouthed at his father’s jaws and immediately caused Shawano to regurgitate a glob of partially digested deer meat, the puppy became enraptured as he devoured the offering. After this reunion, the tenor of wolf life returned to normal, except that Brigit constituted herself the personal nursemaid of little Thor, a doting babysitter who thoroughly spoiled the infant.
Once again without meaning to do so, Jim Wuepper had been responsible for an experiment that produced valuable behavioural evidence, data that, when added to what had been gathered by George Wilson, by me, and by other non-clinical investigators, amply demonstrate that wolves (and other animals) are definitely not fixed-program machines incapable of conscious thought and therefor incapable of feeling love, joy, sadness, or any other kind of emotion, as some scientists believe. Some of them go so far as to claim that even humans are incapable of conscious thought. This school, for instance, contends that when people talk to each other they are engaging in ‘”verbal behaviour.” Schwartz and Lacey, in their textbook Behaviourism, Science and Human Nature (New York: Norton, 1982), state that if an individual wants to discover the reason for another person’s given action, he or she should not ask the subject why the action was undertaken. Instead, these behaviourists propose that the subject’s environment should be analyzed so as to discover the reward that, presumably, was obtained by the behaviour in question. The authors then state: “Find the reward and eliminate it. The idea that people are autonomous and possess within them the power and the reason for making decisions has no place in behaviour theory.”’
More and more of today’s behaviourists are occupied with such esoteric concepts as they rush from ivory tower to laboratory to perform another series of experiments on animals, which are usually viewed as specimens that may be prodded, forcibly restrained for long periods, deprived of a mother’s love, and eventually “sacrificed” to support some obscure and debatable “truth.” There are exceptions, of course, and praise be! One of the giants among these is Konrad Lorenz. In The Year of the Graylag Goose (New York: Harcourt. Brace, Jovanovich, 1978). he sums up his attitude to behavioural research in this way: “The harmony inhabiting all living things is what attracts our interest, and it would be utterly unscientific, if not downright dishonest, to deny this. A strictly objective description or illustration of an animal or plant departs from the truth in one crucial respect if the beauty of the living organism itself is not made evident.”
Another notable exception is Donald R. Griffin, professor of biology at RockefelIer University, who says unequivocally: “Behaviourism should be abandoned not so much because it belittles the value of living animals, but because it leads us to a seriously incomplete and hence misleading picture of reality.” Reality, particularly in the case of wolves, means that these animals have keen intelligence, excellent memory, and a demonstrable capacity for conscious thought. When Shawano fed his pack before keeping a piece of chicken for himself, he demonstrated not only that he could profit from experience in a thinking way, but that the other wolves could do so as well. This demonstration is alone sufficient to discredit the mechanistic theory which contends that evolution, by means of hereditary imprinting, has led to the thoughtless or automatic responses of animals to any one of an enormously wide variety of natural stimuli. In the first place, such genetic programming would probably be incapable of making provision for every single experience that a wolf or any other animal might encounter during the course of its lifetime. Second, evolution, though it seemingly continues to change the biology of life in accordance with the exigencies of survival, progresses at a very slow rate, which means that today’s animals (including man) have not had time to become inherently adapted to deal with the rapid and enormous changes that our species has wrought on the planet and particularly upon its natural environment. This means also that while life on earth is still predicated on survival characteristics that were incorporated into evolutionar
y inheritance countless thousands of years ago, none of today’s life forms could survive the changes that have taken place during the last three or four centuries (and particularly since the middle of the nineteenth century) if they were unable to think consciously to reason, when confronted by new, basically unnatural influences. Captivity, of course, is just one of these conditions; whether man, wolf, parrot, dolphin, or any other living thing, none could survive captivity if it were not capable of adapting intelligently to its new environment. Memory, by allowing an animal to benefit from experience, plays an important role in the formulation of conscious decisions; the better its memory, the better able will the animal be to adapt to a changing environment.
When Sharon and I returned to Ishpeming in February of 1984, we did so principally to test the memory of the wolves, and especially of their leader. Would Shawano remember me? If so, how would he respond to my advances?
On this trip to the U.P., Bill and Betty Wilson, George’s brother and sister-in-law, very kindly invited us to stay in their Marquette home, the top floor of which contains George’s “pad.” In order to rest after the 450 mile drive from Ontario and so to be able to meet the wolves in a relaxed state, we spent our first day in Marquette more or less freewheeling, discussing the program for the coming week with George, talking with Jim Wuepper, and socializing with our obliging and friendly host and hostess. In the course of that first day, I informed both Jim and George that I wanted to meet the pack entirely on my own, and although I had to argue to some extent with Jim, who wanted to introduce me personally to the pack so as to make it easy for me, I prevailed in the end after explaining that when seeking the acceptance of wild animals (or tame ones, for that matter), I had long ago learned a technique that had proven itself many times over.
My method requires that I work alone, for a second person invariably distracts me by his or her very presence. This means that I cannot put myself in a fully relaxed, neutral state, which I have found to be the way that works best for me when I am trying to win the confidence of a wild being. Then, too, I felt in this instance that if I were to be reintroduced to the wolves by Jim, I would not be able to determine whether they really remembered me from last year’s visit. When Jim remonstrated, saying that they might not trust me at all if I showed up on my own, I rebutted, “That’s fine, too. Either way, I will find out what I’ve come here to learn, which is whether Shawano and the others will remember me. If they don’t, so be it. At least we’ll have some kind of handle on the duration of their recall.”
Whether or not Jim gave in to me merely to be polite, I cannot say; the fact is that he did give in, although he opined that his dog, Chico, would probably bark at me, and that in itself might cause the wolves to remain hidden within the trees at the far end of the enclosure.
The next morning, George guided me to a supermarket where I bought ten pounds of chicken parts – necks, wings, and livers. Armed with this parcel, I drove George home, then headed for Ishpeming under a clear sky and bright sun, but with the thermometer hovering at ten degrees below zero.
When I reached the Wuepper driveway, I slowed the car to a crawl, lowering the window on my side and picking up a turkey drumstick that I had bought especially for Chico. The dog stood at the end of his chain, about fifteen paces from where I parked the car. I had begun to speak to him even before stopping my vehicle and now, as I opened the door to emerge, I saw that Chico’s tail was wagging gently. Before I had closed the door, quietly, the dog scented the raw turkey that was in my left hand. He began to lunge at his chain, his tail flailing the icy air, a great smile wreathing his salivating lips. Not a single bark did he utter. I gave him the offering, stood nearby as he engulfed it, and then spent a few minutes caressing the shaggy body, socializing with him until the height of his pleasurable excitement waned. Then I looked toward the wolf enclosure. Not an animal was to be seen.
I had brought an old canvas shoulder bag in which to place the partly frozen chicken parts, and now I went to the trunk, removed the various packages of meat, opened them, and poured their contents into the small haversack. Hitching this around my neck, so that it hung against my chest, I walked to the fence wire. There I called Shawano, my voice low, even, intended to be reassuring. Five times I called, then I saw him. Flanked by Denali, the big wolf stood among the trees, staring at me with that extraordinary intensity that is so typical of his kind. I called again as I returned Shawano’s gaze, but at that instant Brigit scuttled up to the wire, her tail tucked between her legs, her ears flat against her head, her lips peeled back in submission. She stopped immediately opposite me. Digging in the meat bag, I gave her a chicken neck, thrusting it through the wire. In a trice, with but one offhanded crunch, she had swallowed it. I gave her another, meanwhile noting that Shawano had closed the distance between us by half, and that Denali was staring intently at Brigit, who, knowing that she was safe provided she remained close to me, continued to press against the wire, whining very softly. I gave her two more chunks of meat. As she swallowed the last piece, Shawano trotted up, ignoring his onetime mate as she retreated from him, but scenting the meat that hung from my neck. Thor and Denali came closer, but stayed about ten paces from the wire.
I fed Shawano. It was wonderful to feel the gentleness with which that great, powerful animal took each raw offering! After he had eaten six pieces of meat, I began tossing chicken parts to Denali and Thor, in this way getting the Beta to come within a yard of me, but not being able to draw Denali closer than her set distance of ten paces. Nevertheless, she watched each piece of chicken intently as it sailed over the wire, and challenged Thor for possession of two necks when the Beta darted toward her to try to get the chicken for himself.
At about this time I realized that Toivo hadn’t shown himself. And knowing that six pups had been born to the Alphas in the spring of 1983, I wondered about their absence. Perhaps Toivo and the yearlings were too timid to come up to me. I made a note to ask Jim about the seven missing wolves, something that I should have done the previous day, but we had been busy discussing so many other matters that I had neglected to enquire about the state of the pack. I had, however, enquired about Brigit, and had learned that once again she was being harassed by the pack. Now, watching her, I had a sense of déjà vu, for her behaviour was as submissive as it had been last year and she also showed another, perhaps slightly smaller, raw patch at the base of her tail. And Denali, even from a distance, was able to intimidate her mother.
By the time I had fed all the wolves and had squatted close to the wire to enjoy a few minutes of silent communion with Shawano, who, as he had done the first time, came right up to me, met my gaze, and again tried to steal my woollen cap, even through the wire, I had decided that I would cut short this visit and would not again approach the enclosure closely during the remainder of our stay. Denali was in estrus, breeding could begin at any time, and Brigit’s harassment was at its height. I felt that my intrusion would increase the usually intense excitement of the mating time; for this season I would content myself with watching the pack from inside Jim’s house, or from the front seat of my car. In any event, I was quite satisfied that Shawano, at least, dearly remembered me and had accepted me without any trace of hostility. Before leaving the wolves that morning, I stepped back to a position about thirty yards from the enclosure, squatted with my back to a tree, and watched. Almost immediately Denali and Thor joined Shawano, but as the two moved forward, Brigit scuttled away, her entire being advertising her total submission. Nevertheless, Denali charged her mother, growling threateningly, her ears and tail stiffly upright. Shawano merely watched, while Thor moved to a position where he would be separated from hostilities, but could observe the action. Brigit, however, was not about to be trounced by her daughter. The smaller wolf ran at full speed and soon disappeared within the trees; this appeared to satisfy Denali, who returned to the southern part of the enclosure, licked Shawano’s mouth, her tail wagging, then sniffed around, li
cking at places where pieces of chicken had landed. Moments later the Alpha female urinated seven times, squatting to do so, this behaviour signifying that she was reinforcing her status. Shawano, not to be outdone, followed suit, wetting on all those places where Denali had voided. Thor kept his distance and did not try to copy the actions of the dominant pair.
As I reflected on the pack’s behaviour while again comparing it to the interactions between wild wolves in the breeding season that I had witnessed in the past, it became evident to me that the Ishpeming wolves had that morning engaged in fully reasoned activity. Each animal had interpreted my arrival in a personal way and had shown itself capable of taking advantage of it. Brigit had immediately realized that my presence would allow her to come into the open without fear of Denali, and by whining at me and pressing close to the fence wire, she could also get a share of food, which she could eat in peace. Shawano, although he is almost always willing to eat, demonstrated by his general behaviour, and especially by means of his body language, that he was glad to see me and that he trusted me. Thor, undoubtedly hoping for food, placed himself at a vantage point from which he could get my attention, yet far enough away from the Alphas to ensure they would understand he was being both submissive and neutral. Denali, eager for her share of food, but distrustful of humans, came closer to me than she would normally have done with a relative stranger, but I am convinced that she did so not so much because of the food, or her memory of me, as because of her concern over Brigit, who, alone by the fence with Shawano, could be expected to attempt to regain her Alpha status by wooing her ex-mate – which was precisely what she was doing! Shawano, although he showed no sexual interest in Brigit, was not hostile toward her. I interpreted this to mean that he felt fully secure in his own position and so did not need to demonstrate his authority over the subordinate female. Indeed, it appeared that Shawano did not want to get mixed up in the squabbles between his mate and her rival, whom he left in peace when Denali was not around, and whom he attacked only when he was near his mate during those times when the latter became hostile toward Brigit. Pondering these things as I watched the wolves, it struck me that I was witnessing a typical example of the human triangle, the principals in this case being two female wolves competing for one male of the same species, although it could just as easily have been the other way around, an example of which I was to observe within this same pack in the near future.
In Praise of Wolves Page 8