By now, Tundra and Taiga looked upon Sharon as the Alpha female and upon me as the Alpha male. Now, too, Taiga began to demonstrate in earnest the high-strung nature that she had inherited from one or both of her parents, signs of which she had frequently given from the first day she came into our care. But Tundra continued to be calm and gentle. He was a thoughtful pup, given to looking at us seriously, as though appraising each of us, his eyes serene, yet deeply probing, at times even speculative. On other occasions he would be aloof, refusing to be petted and going about his awn affairs in a dedicated way, only to change his mind a short time later and come up to one of us, whine softly, and ask to be caressed. Then, too, he often had spells when his sense of humour was uppermost, whether playing with Taiga or with one of us. His eyes would twinkle and he would smile, then he would dance in a wobbly way, raising a front paw to bat at his sister, at Sharon, or at me. Taiga’s own sense of humour was almost always present, her eyes shining with mischief, her face, when she wasn’t wrinkling her nose in mock aggression, wreathed by an impish grin. She was definitely a tease, small as she was; and whereas her stolid, easygoing brother was often slow to react to food or to some prized plaything, Taiga was always quick to gobble up meat or to grab some new toy. We continued to worry about Tundra. Although he was definitely larger than his sister, he ate about a third less than she did. He was also plagued with bouts of diarrhea, even though both cubs were given the same foods.
I fretted over Tundra for another reason: He seemed to be too good! Whereas I had already needed to discipline Taiga on several occasions, leaning over her, fastening my teeth on her scruff, and shaking her, whereupon she would whine loudly, wet herself, and become instantly contrite, Tundra was a model of deportment. Such calm and responsible behaviour was highly unusual in a wolf pup.
Each evening, after we had settled the two in their den, I would sit at my desk and make notes on their behaviour, the condition of bowels and bladder, the amount of food ingested, and whatever other details appeared pertinent to the development of both pups. Looking back on those notes, I find that I questioned Tundra’s state of health every second or third evening, but the next day’s entry tells me that he appeared to be perfectly fit again.
On June 4, when they were thirty-eight days old, Tundra and Taiga simultaneously weaned themselves. We got up at 5:30am as usual, prepared their formula, and went to my study to find that they were up and eager to be taken out of their pen. Each of us carrying one of them into the kitchen, we settled on the floor, Taiga on Sharon’s lap, Tundra on mine. We offered the bottles. Tundra refused his immediately, no matter how hard I tried to coax him, but Taiga began to feed. Was Tundra ill? Before we had time to do more than phrase the question, Taiga released the rubber nipple and scrambled off Sharon’s lap. From that moment on, they would have nothing more to do with formula, preferring to drink water from their bowl, which was something they had taught themselves to do on the first day that we put the dish in their pen.
Having rejected their bottles, however, the pups showed by their behaviour that they were nevertheless hungry, so Sharon gave them some cooked chicken. When they had finished that, she offered them some raw hamburger. This too was quickly dispatched; more was demanded and given. Now, fully satisfied, the two began to play and to explore the house, their movements still quite uncoordinated. They had not yet attempted to run and they wobbled a good deal when they walked, their large paws causing them to stumble whenever they tried to accelerate their pace.
One afternoon, as I was working in my office and the cubs were napping, Tundra inside the den and Taiga lying on her back in one corner of the pen, I happened to need a large book that was in the bookcase above my desk. The volume was on the top shelf and I had to stand up to reach it. I took hold of the volume and pulled it toward me; it made a slithering sound that the wolves had not heard before. Taiga was galvanized into swift action. From lying fast asleep on her back. she righted herself and streaked into the den. I was not surprised that she had been panicked by the alien sound, but I was astounded by the way in which she reacted to alarm, for in the literal seconds that it took her to awaken, right herself, and rush into her shelter, her actions were perfectly coordinated! Yet, when I called and she and Tundra came outside again, relaxed by my reassurance, her movements were once again clumsy; they were to remain so until she attained full command of herself in the weeks ahead.
When an animal is alarmed, its system is immediately prepared for action by endocrine hormones, particularly by adrenaline, which helps to coordinate movement while effecting a series of other physiological changes. It had never occurred to me, however, that adrenaline could actually produce immediate and perfect coordination in a young animal that was still particularly clumsy in all its movements, or that it could increase speed so dramatically. By themselves, these things were biologically significant, but I was also interested in the fact that when Taiga’s alarm had passed, she had so quickly reverted to puppy clumsiness. This suggested that the rate at which the elevated levels of endocrine “fuel” is used must be exceptionally high. Furthermore, when the reaction is caused by inherent caution (which dictates that any unknown influence is suspect until it turns out to be harmless), realization that the originally fearful stimulus poses no threat immediately relaxes the animal and causes its hormonal output to return to normal control levels. As I thought about the little wolf’s behaviour, it occurred to me that I had just witnessed a perfect example of what Dr. Bans Selye called positive stress, an emotional-physiological reaction that, when functioning properly, is designed to increase an individual’s life span.
Discussing this with Sharon later that day, I began comparing the behaviour of Tundra and Taiga with that of Matta and Wa, only then realizing the futility of such comparisons. When I said as much to Sharon, she was surprised, believing that my experience with the first two wolf pups should qualify me to prejudge the actions and reactions of our present wards. Earlier I would have agreed with my wife’s views, but now I knew that beyond those general traits shared by all wolves, individual behaviour could not be assessed in advance. As matters have turned out, I am glad that I formed that conclusion as early as I did, for Tundra and Taiga are uniquely different from each other and just as different from Matta and Wa, and indeed from all other wolves that I have known. When I explained this to Sharon, she was still somewhat puzzled.
“But surely they’re wolves, aren’t they?” she said.
“Yes, they’re wolves all right, and they eat meat and they howl and they share many things with other wolves,” I answered. “But each is unique, one of a kind.”
I long ago concluded that the only trait universally shared by all life forms is uniqueness and that all animals are distinct and separate entities with personalities wholly their own. Because of these things, and although they have been genetically structured to behave in accordance with the general norms that govern the biology of each species, all of them express themselves in highly individualistic ways, a characteristic that is also to be noted in their physical shapes.
On August 7, when the pups were thirteen weeks old, Tundra weighed thirty-four pounds and Taiga thirty pounds. This meant that the male had attained an average gain of 2.53 pounds per week since birth, while the female had gained 2.23 pounds a week, these calculations based upon the assumption that each had weighed about one pound immediately postpartum. At this date they looked more like wolves, although their ears still seemed too large for their heads, and their huge paws persisted in getting in their way. Nevertheless, their coordination had improved dramatically and so had their speed, facts that were frequently drawn to our attention when we tried to catch them during those regular occasions when they were loose in the house and had managed to get hold of some item that was fragile and not designed for the jaws of wolf puppies. At such times, they would dash under the couch, squeeze themselves tightly against the wall, and continue chewing their forbidden prize, all th
e while looking at whichever one of us was flat on her or his tummy, seeking to reach them with one extended arm. Soon, however, I discovered that what was almost impossible to accomplish by direct action could be done by guile, an awareness that came about when, unable to reach either of the two, who were sharing one of my slippers, which Taiga had stolen, I began to whine, my poor imitation of lupine distress causing both pups to dash out of their hiding place and rush at me as I remained on all fours, each frantic to lick my face. This ruse worked as long as the pups had not taken refuge under the couch because one of us was cross with them. Under those circumstances they stayed hidden, coming out only when they detected that affairs had returned to normal. In this regard, the two gave us a wonderful example of their ability to pick up our emotional signals when, while we were entertaining visitors, Tundra moved his bowels on the rug, Sharon, who is quite sensitive about mess or untidiness in the house – especially when we have company – became dismayed when she suddenly detected an odour that was not usually present in our living room. Investigating, she discovered its source and noted that, as was usual with him, Tundra was standing by, tail erect, front quarters slightly crouched and bottom presented for wiping, a habit he had developed when, during bouts of diarrhea, Sharon used a soft tissue to clean him. Unlike his sister, who did her business and strolled away casually, Tundra always presented himself for wiping, but on this occasion Sharon, without realizing the effect that her reaction would have on the pups, paused, looked down at the mess, and exclaimed, “Oh ... Tundra!”
The offender instantly dropped his tail and, in unison with his equally alarmed sister, streaked for shelter under the sofa. It took Sharon some minutes to coax them out again, but when they did emerge, they both mobbed her, fussing and licking until my wife began to laugh, then the two began to play with her, grabbing at her clothing, fingers, or any other part of her that was handy.
I knew from past experience that wolves and many dogs can tune in to human emotions; I had already explained this to Sharon, but that one demonstration by Taiga and Tundra did more for her understanding of wolves than anything I had said. Our visitors, who had never seen wolves outside of a zoo, were quite astonished, and were hardly able to credit that the animals could pick up emotion from just one exclamation. And there was more to come.
About a week after Tundra messed on our carpet and caused Sharon’s distress, I decided the time had come to make a suitable outdoors enclosure for our two delightful ruffians. They were developing so quickly that they could hardly squeeze under the sofa; besides, there just was not enough room for them in the house. We could not allow them to run loose, and although we took them on long walks on their leads, the task of guiding two rambunctious wolf puppies through a forest that had not been touched by axe or saw for some sixty years was an exhausting and frustrating experience, at least for the humans. Tundra and Taiga loved these jaunts, of course, but were unaware that humans could not squeeze through tight, low, and narrow interstices between sharp branches, under downed tree trunks, and through black-mire swamps.
Busy as I already was with many other projects, I realized that I needed help. Mike Collins, whose willingness to help a neighbour knows no bounds, immediately offered to assist me. So did Murray Palmer, who came to stay with us for a week and helped me dig a trench around the perimeter of the pen and further aided me in the cutting of cedar posts from our own property. When these chores were accomplished and the post-holes had been dug, Mike arrived full of his usual enthusiasm and we put in the posts and stapled the fence wire to them. Two days later, the job was done, and as I walked the inside boundaries of the 50-by-150-foot enclosure, the south end of which was anchored to our century – old log barn-which was to shelter Tundra and Taiga at night in case a wandering back bear decided to drop in and dine on wolf cub – I was satisfied that this miniature “territory” would do for the time being. Later, when time permitted, I planned to extend the enclosure to incorporate about an acre of forested land that slopes down to the stream that runs through our property.
Putting the two pups into their new home was an event attended by Sharon, Mike, and myself, a festive occasion during which we watched with delight and fascination as the young wolves began to explore their new range, exercising that supreme caution that is the hallmark of their kind as they ventured farther and farther afield, interrupting their adventures frequently to dash back to us so that they could be patted and reassured. By that same afternoon, however, the two had definitely taken possession of their territory and showed that they knew practically every inch of it. The land involved is studded with seedling larches, a few small cedars, and some young spruces as well as clumps of black poplars that were then about seven feet tall. Grasses, wildflowers, and wild clematis vine added to the vegetation. To the north, the pups had a view of about five acres of lowland on which grow alders and willows and through which our stream meanders. Beaver can be seen on occasion, and birds in the hundreds, including seven large ravens that soon got into the habit of paying their respects to the pups every afternoon at about four o’clock.
Later, assisted by Tundra and Taiga, I dug a small den, roofing it with old cedar logs and rocks. In no time the pups, especially Tundra, had deepened and widened it, so that the two could curl up inside, protected in some measure from flies and enjoying the coolness of damp earth.
Photo by Jim Wuepper
Taiga, 6 months old. Photo by Murray Palmer
We can taste and smell, but clearly we live in a poor and limited
chemical world compared with many animals.
We can easily see the difference, in this respect,
between our world and that of our dogs. . . .
Marston Bates, The Forest and the Sea
10
Before we moved Tundra and Taiga to their outdoor enclosure, I had always fed them raw meat without having a barrier between us, taking a cube of beef in each hand and simultaneously offering a piece to each of them, in this way preventing them from trying to snatch at the same prize. This habit came to an abrupt end, however, when I entered their enclosure the morning after they had been settled in it, carrying the meat in my left hand and offering one cube to Tundra with my right. I should have known better, of course. Before I had lowered the beef close enough for Tundra to take it, Taiga leaped at it, snapping it out of my fingers and in the process gashing my index finger. Tundra, having been deprived of the snack, began to leap also, but not before Taiga had swallowed the meat and joined her brother. Now I had two wolves jumping at the dish and at my freed hand, their gleaming fangs flashing mere millimetres from my flesh. I ended the melee by dumping the meat on the ground and letting them scramble for it, Taiga got the biggest share.
From then on we fed the cubs through the wire, Sharon giving meat to Tundra and I to Taiga, coordinating our movements so that the pups got their share at the same time. Within two days the young wolves learned of their own accord to position themselves so that Tundra stood opposite Sharon and Taiga opposite me, a habit that they continue to maintain, for we still give them a snack each morning, their main meal being carried into the enclosure in two huge dog bowls during late afternoon or early evening. Interestingly, although they leap around me excitedly when I enter with the food, they have never tried to get at it until I have placed both bowls on the floor of the barn, at which time Taiga usually stands on my right and Tundra on my left, the same positions that they adopt when we give them their morning tidbits.
At the time of this writing, the wolves are more than a year old, but they have never once quarrelled over food. They are always willing to share, although Taiga continues to eat quickly and usually manages to get more food than Tundra, but it is now clear that she needs to eat more because of her heightened metabolism, while Tundra, who continues to be calm and easygoing, attains more growth and weight than his sister on considerably less food.
If the wolves are g
iven a bone, however, or if they find a favourite piece of meat of some kind, they immediately take it outside the barn and settle down to eat it in the shelter of the forest and will protect it by growling if the other sibling goes too close to the one that is eating. Most often the growl is purely ritualistic and is recognized as such by the interloper, who approaches until his or her nose is an inch or two from the food, yet does not try to take it. But if the rightful owner is really hungry, the resulting growl is deep, rumbling, and definitely threatening, whereupon the approaching wolf turns away immediately, its manner suggesting that it had no intention of trying to steal the meat or bone.
Nevertheless, on occasion, Taiga manages to take food away from Tundra by guile when the latter is not truly hungry. She will approach, ignore the ritual growls, sniff at the food and whine, then lie down very close to Tundra. He continues growling as he eats and as Taiga rolls closer to him. Little by little she continues to roll and sidle until she turns herself over, her weight pushing Tundra’s head away from the food. Wriggling further, she covers the prize with her shoulders, then, giving one more heave, she snatches the meat or bone and springs away. Sometimes Tundra chases her, whereupon the two run at full speed through the enclosure, leaping obstacles and dodging trees with wonderful agility, but after a time he gives up and allows his sister to eat the food. Tundra has never resorted to such tactics and he does not appear to resent his sister when she employs them.
In Praise of Wolves Page 19