After Sharon had explained these things to Alison, we walked down to the enclosure. Alison, who had greatly enjoyed her contact with Tundra and Taiga, strode out, anxious to get to them again. I held back, pacing myself so that I remained about eight feet behind my daughter, who therefore arrived at the wolf pen ahead of me, allowing me to take careful note of the ways in which the wolves greeted her. Again, they behaved as though she were I! They continued to show her the same respect after we had both entered the enclosure. Taiga, who usually danced around Sharon in her excitement to go for a walk, was always difficult to collar at first, but she submitted quickly when Alison went to put the chain around her neck. During our walk, Taiga behaved as if I were holding the lead, which I do on those occasions when she plagues Sharon and we swap – Tundra, who pulls more strongly, but is easier to control, is then led by my wife, and the irrepressible Taiga, responding to my sterner handling, settles down as soon as the exchange is completed.
An hour later, when we had returned from our forest walk and the wolves were back in the enclosure, there remained no doubt in my mind that Tundra and Taiga had detected the blood ties between Alison and me. And they had done so even before we reached the outside of their territory. How did they know? I immediately dismissed hearing, for my voice bears absolutely no resemblance to my daughter’s, and even our manner of speech and our accents are quite different. I also dismissed sight, for the wolves do not use vision to recognize Sharon or me, or anyone else that they know, until we are almost at the fence-line. So, I decided, the answer had to do with scent, with hormones, particularly with pheromones, which are chemical substances known to be used in communication between members of the same species, and are also thought to be the ancestors of endocrine hormones.
These chemical attractants are produced by plants, by invertebrates, and by vertebrates, including primates and humans. They are highly volatile and emit extremely detectable odours that can be scented across distances of up to several kilometres, even though they are released only in minute quantities. Because man’s olfactory system has, through disuse, become so ineffective, we humans live in an odour-deprived world as compared with that of other animals. For this reason, our knowledge of pheromones is still very limited, although in recent years biologists and biochemists have been hard at work researching pheromones and trying to understand the roles played by these hormonal chemicals. And it seems that the more pheromones are studied, the more complicated they appear to be, although it is now known that their transport through space is linked to certain sulphur molecules, to which they are harnessed. Inasmuch as they continue to be found with great regularity in all species wherever a determined scientific search is made, it appears certain that chemical communication by means of scent is universally distributed in all living organisms.
Simply stated, pheromones are discharged by animals at all times as part of endocrinological metabolism. But there appear to be many different kinds of these chemical messengers present in every organism, each type probably conveying very specific information, the odours of each being used by animals to recognize each other, to recognize an enemy, or to identify a prey animal. Pheromones also advertise the sexual readiness of males and females, as well as aggression and friendliness.
In this context, Sharon became aware early on that Tundra and Taiga were able to sense the hormonal changes that took place in her body prior to her menses, the wolves being capable of doing so four to five days before Sharon was aware of these things herself. At such times, the wolves are especially interested in scenting her in ways that might be considered embarrassing were it not that they behave so naturally. It seems that just as soon as Sharon’s hormonal metabolism begins to alter in response to the timing of her cycle, Tundra and Taiga immediately detect the changes. Then, too, I have become aware that during those occasions when my emotions are being affected by work stress, no matter how slightly, our wildlings can sense the increase in hormonal output, nosing at me as intensely as they scent-examine Sharon.
On two different occasions during November 1984, the wolves detected severe stress in two of our visitors (both men) long before either of them had come near the enclosure. Taiga showed her awareness by tucking her tail between her legs and retreating, but Tundra displayed open aggression, which was something that he had never done before. His hackles became erect from the root of his tail to the top of his head, his ears were pricked forward, his tail was held high, and he charged the fence while emitting deep growls and barking intermittently. Since we knew that both individuals were quite seriously distressed at the time, it was not difficult to understand that Tundra and Taiga had been able to “tune in” to their emotions by sensing elevated hormonal levels. And Tundra, though only seven months old, made it quite clear that if either man approached the fence he would attack.
Both episodes interested me because of the very opposite reactions that the wolves had displayed toward Alison and the friendly ways in which they had greeted all other visitors. And although I was concerned that Tundra had shown so much aggression, I was also pleased that he had advertised it so early and so unequivocally, thereby alerting me ahead of our arrival in each instance and allowing me to lead the men away from the enclosure.
I knew the first man well and was aware that he was undergoing serious emotional problems; though we knew little of the second individual’s circumstances, by the ways in which he talked and carried himself, it was obvious that he too was distraught. Thus I concluded that because both men were disturbed by factors that were beyond their abilities to control, each was reacting angrily to his own individual problems.
Anger, as I have noted, is invariably interpreted as aggression by all animals. As a result, Taiga, more timid in such circumstances than her brother, became afraid, while Tundra, already showing Beta-male qualities, responded by exhibiting defensive aggression.
For several weeks, I pondered these matters at considerable length, at the same time searching the literature on pheromones and learning that although much has been written about these chemical messengers, much research remains to be done before it will be possible to understand their composition and the manner in which they facilitate communication. Nevertheless, findings to date confirm those theories that I formed by observing our wolves and noting the various ways in which they react to olfactory stimuli. I don’t think, though, that I would have so readily formed my conclusion if Tundra and Taiga had not demonstrated that they were able to detect my relationship with Alison.
More recently, I sought Mike Collins’ opinion, showing him my notes and discussing my ideas with him. To my relief, he entirely agreed with me, the more so, perhaps, because he knows Tundra and Taiga and often pops in to visit them unaccompanied by Sharon or me. Always he is greeted effusively. Mike has known the wolves since a few days after we returned with them from the Yukon, and he has had many opportunities to observe them. As he has expressed it to me a number of times, he is convinced that they are endowed with acute olfactory perceptions that are quite beyond the reach of human noses.
When a human sets out to track an animal, he relies entirely on vision; but when a wolf or other predator picks up a spoor, it relies entirely on its sense of smell, the paw prints or hoof-marks themselves being meaningless to the predator. Indeed, wild hunters do not even look at the tracks, their eyes being focused instead on the way ahead while their ultra-sensitive noses, held some inches above the trail, can detect whether a spoor has been made recently or whether it is old and of no interest.
In this way, a wolf trots along at a fair clip, its nose probing the ground or snow, as well as its general environment. If it so happens that it gets started on a fresh track in the wrong direction, it reverses itself the instant it realizes that the scent is getting weaker rather than stronger. Sharon and I have seen Tundra and Taiga behave in this way countless times. What is more, if either of us has strolled in our yard before we take them for a walk, they are not sati
sfied until they have sniffed our old trail, dragging us along those routes that we have taken earlier. They do this regardless of season or weather. Whether the ground is bare or dry, whether it is wet or covered with snow, they track us, never satisfied until they have examined every one of our previous footsteps.
We, of course, know when they are tracking either one of us, but we rarely know when they are following the spoor of a visiting animal, such as a squirrel or a fox. On September 30, for instance, as we were leading them toward the forest, Tundra swung off course and dragged me back toward a small pond that lies between their enclosure and our garage. On this occasion the grass was wet following a heavy rain the previous night, but Tundra, nose aimed at the ground, insisted on sticking to his course, Sharon and Taiga following us.
When we reached the edge of the pond, which is bordered by smooth Cambrian granite, Tundra hesitated a moment or two, casting about with his nose, then turned right, followed the edge of the water, and led me to a place where a narrow drainage ditch had been dug in the distant past to prevent overflows during flood times. Here there is some mud. Tundra dragged me along, sniffing intently at the mud, all the while staring at the distant trees, and then he marched on. As I was about to step over the ditch, I saw the track of an adult wolf; some six inches ahead of it was Tundra’s smaller track. We, or rather our pups, had been visited by a wild wolf! Later I returned and measured the single paw mark, which was 4 7/8 inches long by 3 3/4 inches wide. Tundra’s front paw track, in contrast, measured 3 3/4 inches long by 3 l/4 inches wide. The adult wolf had visited sometime between the previous evening and three o’clock in the afternoon, and in view of the fact that neither pup showed any further interest in tracking the animal once its course had been traced as far as the pond, it seemed clear that the lone wolf and our two had related in our absence.
I have witnessed a great many almost uncanny demonstrations of the olfactory abilities of wild animals, but Sharon had not been so privileged until Tundra and Taiga came into our care. Since then, however, she has seen how keen are the noses of our wolves; it was the first time that Taiga stopped dead in her tracks, thrust her nose into some grasses, and came out with an old mouse nest that Sharon realized fully just how sensitive they were. What at first puzzled my wife, however, was the undeniable fact that the wolves could track our steps no matter what kind of shoes we had been wearing at the time.
“How can they smell us through our shoes?” she asked me.
I can only guess at the answer to this question. They obviously can, but whether the scent “soaks” right through the soles of the footwear or adheres to the outside of the shoe or boot is more than I can say. Sharon is also puzzled about the ability of our wolves to track in snow, but this is perhaps easier to explain, for it appears that when a track is imposed on fresh snow, the moisture in the crystals accentuates the odour; and when the track is covered by a topping of fresh snow, the fact that the subsurface temperature is higher also accentuates the odour.
In any event, whether a wolf is sniffing at paw marks or sensing any one of literally hundreds of airborne aromas, there can be no doubt at all that those seemingly ubiquitous but hard-to-fathom pheromones really do exist. In his book Lives of a Cell, Lewis Thomas ponders the possible presence of pheromones in humans:
“What are we going to do if it turns out that we have pheromones? What on earth would we be doing with such things? With the richness of speech, and all our new devices for communication, why would we want to release odours into the air to convey information about anything? We can send notes, telephone, whisper cryptic invitations, announce the giving of parties, even bounce words off the moon and make them carom around the planets Why a gas, or droplets of moisture made to be deposited on fence-posts?”
Commenting on a paper written by Dr. Alex Comfort and published in Nature magazine in 1971 under the title ‘’The Likelihood of Human Pheromones,” Thomas writes: “Comfort has recently reviewed the reasons for believing that we are, in fact, in possession of anatomic structures for which there is no rational explanation except as sources of pheromones–tufts of hair, strategically located apocrine glands, unaccountable areas of moisture. We even have folds of skin here and there designed for the controlled nurture of bacteria, and it is known that certain microbes eke out a living, like eighteenth-century musicians, producing chemical signals by ornamenting the products of their hosts.”
Thomas’ book was published ten years ago. Since then, more information has come to light that will help answer this eminent biologist’s questions, but I believe that Lewis Thomas might well be as interested as I am in the way Tundra and Taiga were able to determine that Alison was my daughter and that she should be respected because she smelled like me. As for me, I now know that paw marks are not the only things that leave discernible spoor.
Sharon, Ron, Taiga and Tundra going on our afternoon “drag” . Photo by Jim Wuepper
This earth is a garden, this life a banquet,
and it’s time we realized that it was
given to all life, animal and man, to enjoy.
Tom Brown, Jr., The Search
11
As the autumn grew older and painted colourful panoramas on the canvases of the forest, Tundra and Taiga responded to the change of seasons by howling with greater frequency at night and during the afternoons when the ravens flew in and perched themselves on trees near the enclosure, there to chatter excitedly while looking down on the wolves. We had a flock of seven ravens that year, large, coal-black birds that arrived daily between 4 and 4:30pm to spend about half an hour talking to each other and to our rangy cubs.
On the afternoon of October 12, while I was socializing with Tundra and Taiga, they turned away from me and ran to the north end of the pen, their noses raised and their ears pricked forward as they detected an influence hidden from my senses. Standing side by side, they remained immobile and stared at the sky, but although I followed their line of sight while I listened intently, I failed to see or hear whatever had so suddenly attracted them, even after I walked to where they were and placed myself immediately behind them. The pups were so intent on what they were attuned to that they barely acknowledged my presence by halfheartedly wagging their tails for a few seconds.
After some moments of fruitless vigil, I was about to turn away and leave the enclosure when I heard the faint cawing of ravens. Now Taiga whined softly and Tundra pawed at the fence wire. The raucous calls grew louder but were still distant, and the sky remained empty. I waited, alternately watching the wolves and the sky; presently I saw the first raven as it flapped over the trees. It was followed by the other six.
As the birds neared the enclosure, they started to call more frequently. The wolves began to dance, whining to each other and rising on their hind legs, one sometimes climbing on the other so that the passenger’s back legs were off the ground and its front legs had to move at twice the normal rate to keep up with the haphazard pacing of its companion. This behaviour always denoted excitement. It was practised every time we walked toward their quarters. At one moment, Tundra was giving a piggyback ride to Taiga, and at the next, the positions were reversed and the rider became the carrier, a performance that was kept up until their excitement dissipated.
The wolves separated when the ravens dropped below the treetops and approached us. Now the cubs sat on their haunches and watched the birds until they flew over our heads in disorderly formation, losing height rapidly just before they alighted on nearby trees. Tundra and Taiga trotted toward the landing area, arriving there just as the ravens started to call, at which the young wolves began to howl rather discordantly and to pace back and forth.
I was no stranger to such inter-species communion, having learned soon after I encountered the North American wilderness that ravens could lead me to wolf kills, sometimes after the hunters had eaten and left the scene, on other occasions while the wolves were actually feeding. The
first time this happened, I was surprised to see that the birds were sharing the meat with the hunters and were tolerated by the adult wolves, but charged by the untutored yearlings, who were eventually to learn that their tactics were never rewarded by success. Quite the contrary! Ravens are hardy, daring, and highly intelligent birds, always ready to steal anything edible that is not actually inside the mouth of a predator or hidden in a metal garbage container equipped with a locked lid. Although these voracious members of the crow family will steal from one another when opportunity presents itself, they cooperate magnificently in filching bones or meat from inexperienced wolves and dogs. Beyond this, as I have observed a number of times, ravens appear to act as scouts for wolves by congregating near prey animals, calling loudly and excitedly. It may be that the birds have learned that there are times when an old or injured deer or moose is dying, or has already died, and will thus offer them a sumptuous meal; or it may be that the birds are deliberately advertising the presence of prey in the hope that the wolves will respond and make a kill, after which the ravens drop down from the trees to take their share. However this may be, just as I learned that the birds could lead me to the wolves, the latter have also learned that when ravens congregate in a given area, they may well be signalling the presence of potential prey animals.
Sooner or later, all wolves learn to accept the ravens when these are sharing a kill, but during their first year of life, the young hunters acquire wisdom the hard way after the wily birds have stolen many choice morsels from them. Ravens employ tactics that are simple but effective. Two or three will drop down to the ground and begin to strut within seemingly easy reach of the jaws of a feeding young wolf, who, jealous of its food and at the same time unable to resist the urge to pounce on such a tempting target, charges at the nearest bird, snapping audibly and futilely at the air as the ravens spring upward and find safety in the trees. Meanwhile, long before the wolf can turn around, a raven that has been waiting nearby, but out of sight of the hunter, darts in, grabs the food, and flies off with it, after which it is itself chased by its erstwhile partners, each of which will steal the prize if it can. After three or four such experiences, adolescent wolves usually learn to ignore the ravens, which then wait until all pack members have become nearly sated, then alight on the carcass to peck off pieces of meat.
In Praise of Wolves Page 21