In Praise of Wolves

by R. D. Lawrence

  Sharon and I live with Tundra and Taiga in this awareness. We know that in teaching us about themselves, they are also teaching us about ourselves and about our own kind. We share life with them in full trust. We love them, and we know that they love us; we try to understand them, and they most definitely understand us.

  Sometimes we are asked, “What are you going to do with your wolves?”

  We reply that we do not intend to do anything with them. We are simply going to live with them. And we hope that they will continue to teach us about the realities of life.

  AFTERWORD

  By Sharon Lawrence

  2012

  Tundra and Taiga thrived at our Ontario sanctuary, and became superb wolf ambassadors. They were filmed, painted and photographed regularly by thousands of visitors, artists and film crews from around the globe. In late 1986, Keg Productions produced a film called In Praise of Wolves. The storyline closely followed the book, with wonderful wolf footage provided by Jim Wuepper and new film featuring our wolf family created by cinematographer Norm Lightfoot. The movie was used for a television series called Profiles of Nature and it is still occasionally aired.

  After threats to burn our house down, shoot the wolves and drive us out of Haliburton County, Ron and I dedicated ourselves to wolf education. We visited many schools, because we knew the importance of educating the young. Before and after In Praise of Wolves was released, Ron also did a great deal of wolf promotion on television and radio across North America.

  People were eager to learn more about wolves (Canis lupus), so in 1987 the Haliburton Forest hosted the first Wolf Weekend organized by Michal Polak, R.D. Lawrence, Peter Schleifebaum and Jim Wuepper. Visitors were housed and fed at the Base Camp, and participated in hiking, birding, wetland observations, lectures, workshops, and lots of fabulous wolf film watching.

  After lunch on Sunday, the participants drove to Wolf Hollow to meet Tundra and Taiga, our wolves extraordinaire. Ron gave a general talk about ‘people behavior’ and how the wolves would probably act and react, and then he took small groups down to the enclosure. Meanwhile, I answered questions, showed the wolf baby album, and discussed the wolf collectibles in the gathering room. This room was part of a two story addition that gave R.D. a scenic upstairs office where he could look out over the property and see three enclosures, the river and outbuildings. I also proudly displayed the woven garments made from the under-fur of our wolves, clouds of softness that were shed during the spring molt, that I lovingly carded, combed and spun into yarn before setting up the small floor loom to create wearable wolf art.

  During the late 1980s, The Domain of Killien, a resort located on beautiful Drag Lake in the Highlands of Ontario, began to offer nature weekends organized by innkeeper Jean-Edouard de Marenches. We were always invited to attend the Friday evening French Cuisine dinner, so we had a chance to meet and mingle with the eclectic group of guests that Ron would guide during the next two days. They explored the unique natural environment – walking, climbing, bird watching and canoeing – while discovering the biomes of the lakes and forest on the property. On Sunday afternoon the guests would stop in at Wolf Hollow to meet and photograph the wolves.

  Ron was writing full-time, usually producing a book every year, and we welcomed hundreds of visitors who wanted to meet Tundra and Taiga as well as other animals we were housing for rehabilitation. Much time was spent building nesting boxes, clearing land, cutting fence posts, digging trenches, insulating permanent houses, and constructing pens or enclosures.

  We were not in the ‘wolf business’ so once Tundra and Taiga matured, we had to put a breeding program in place. For two seasons Taiga was given birth control pills which made her fat and cranky like many females, and there was also the fear of cancer developing. In the fall of 1987, Doctors Laurie Brown and Joan Grant from the Haliburton Veterinary Clinic as well as a team from the University of Guelph Veterinary College performed a vasectomy on Tundra. Ron and I sedated both wolves, tranquilized Tundra and the dirty little deed was done. Ron had thoroughly cleaned, sterilized and set up an operating table in the century old log barn, and while he assisted in the surgery, I sat outside with Taiga who was very stressed and agitated. The operation was successful and wolf recovery speedy.

  On October 10, 1991 a pathetic, skin and bones, five-month old wolf that had fallen into the hands of a motorcycle gang was transported to the sanctuary by Christine Mason, wildlife coordinator for the Ontario Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, based in Midland Ontario.

  The young wolf had been chained from the neck to a huge log, which she had to drag in order to move across her small cement enclosure. Consequently, she could not run, walk or trot, but rather moved in a jerky hopping way around her cage. She was a sad sight. Her ribs were visible through her dirty matted coat, which although shedding for want of care, was white with a silvery sheen to the long brittle guard hairs. She was an Arctic wolf.

  Silva, as we christened her, was full of parasites and had rickets from improper nutrition. She was an elective mute, had chronic sludgy diarrhea, and weighed 15 pounds, when she should have weighed 35–40 pounds. She hated men! The animal was housed in the unfinished earth and rock basement area of our old log home, as she was in no condition to be left outside, and was in need of constant medical care. This ‘wild one’ especially required a great deal of affection…and no one has more of that kindness to give young and injured animals than me.

  Silva immediately took to me and her rehabilitation began. Proper food was given along with medication to rid the she-wolf of numerous parasites. Within a few weeks, the texture and appearance of her coat changed and her body began to put on weight. It took weeks of patience on my part and many short and frequent visits to the basement before the wolf began to trust me.

  On November 4, 1991 she was moved to a new outside enclosure, a task that was very stressful and difficult. I mildly tranquilized her, put on a collar and leash, opened the small basement window, and passed the lead to Ron. As soon as she saw ‘the man’, she bolted to the other end of the room. I tried several times to pick her up and put her through the opening, but there was no cooperation. In the end I crawled through the small opening, then urged her to follow as I tugged and pulled the frantic beast, all the while trying to stay ‘in neutral’ as Ron had taught me. Excited to finally be outside, she was very difficult to control but we finally reached the gate of the new enclosure and she settled inside, still groggy from the medication.

  From her new quarters Silva could see and hear Tundra and Taiga who were now six years old and, although the wolves howled often and directly at the new resident, she remained mute.

  This Canis lupus flourished during the winter months, running, prancing, leaping and rolling in the snow, playing and chasing me around the pen. She loved to play hide and seek among the cedars, and also delighted in stealing my hat or glove so I would chase her or have a tug of war.

  In late January 1992, a group of film students from Carlton University were visiting Wolf Hollow to make a documentary about Ron and the wolves. After dinner, Iona Green and crew sat in the living room evaluating the days’ filming with Ron, while I finished washing up the dinner dishes, but I listened intently to the conversation that drifted in from the open area which was separated by a floor to ceiling stone fireplace.

  As I put another log into the Elmira wood electric stove, I noticed the full silvery moon climbing high into the ebony sky. I suggested to the cameraman that this was a great opportunity to film, and as he ran out coatless, the moon rose higher in the twinkling heavens. A wolf began to sing, and then Tundra and Taiga joined in. Silva had found her voice.

  The following spring Ron and I, along with our usual volunteers (Murray Palmer, Jack Lyons, Donna Moore, Sue and Steve Challoner and others), were kept busy redrafting a large enclosure that was located 200 yards east of our home in a dense evergreen forest. On May 16, 1992 Alba arriv
ed at the sanctuary. A surplus animal from the Toronto Zoo, she had been bought by a mindless dog breeder, who wanted a white German Shepherd. When the man introduced sweet Alba to the dogs, they attacked her viciously and tore off her tail and part of an ear. Her muzzle, upper face and feet were slashed and bitten. Her good ear had a tattoo inside which we traced back to the Zoo. The zoo had no breeding policy at this time, so surplus animals were sold. The breeder who had purchased Alba was eventually reported and surrendered the wolf to authorities. She was brought to us for rehabilitation. She was not releasable. We began an immediate boycott of the Toronto Zoo. Friends and family cancelled memberships and soon a breeding program was in place.

  After Alba settled into her new digs, we introduced her to Silva and eventually the girls lived together deep in the forest. Both wolves had a huge area in which to run and play and, in due course, they both slept in the same insulated house.

  At Christmas time, while looking for a tree to cut and trim for the holidays, Ron and I noticed many wolf tracks and scats outside the enclosure which housed the two Arctic girls. They had a suitor!

  Late one afternoon in mid October, as the sun filtered through the crimson leaves of the sugar maples on the far side of the driveway, I glanced out the kitchen window as I crossed the floor to the refrigerator. It took me almost an hour to prepare the daily animal buffet for wolves, raccoons, foxes, skunks, stray cats and dogs. I shut the frig door abruptly and went closer to the window. Standing in the driveway was a most magnificent wolf.

  “Silva is that you?” I whispered. I ran upstairs to the office.

  “It can’t be Silva,” said Ron. “There is no way she could get out and anyhow that wolf is much larger.” We watched from the office window as the wolf stood motionless, the left full body length facing the house, the pale yellow eyes focused straight ahead in the direction of Tundra and Taiga. The wolf howled once, then trotted off past the feeding station and disappeared into the stand of maples.

  Alba met us at the gate, anxious for her dinner. There was no Silva. “I can’t believe this. How did she get out? How in the world did she get over an eight foot fence with a two foot inside overhang?” was all Ron could mutter. It took two days to find the area where she had stretched a small rectangular section of wire and wiggled through.

  During a snowshoe in our bush in January, Ron spotted Silva and her mate high up on a granite outcrop which overlooked the river that flowed past the enclosure where Tundra and Taiga lived. Tracks indicated that the wolves had been present all winter, and occasionally they were seen after dark at the feeding station that we monitored from the kitchen window.

  In late spring, a lone wolf frequented the feeding platform, not usually taking the time to stand and eat, but instead taking food away into the bush. It made many trips. Then, on a lazy June evening, two adult wolves were feeding at the platform on the far side of the driveway and from the underbrush below the maples and ironwood trees, up popped two wolflings. Silva was a mom!

  From March to October 1996, the Silva pack was still in our area, making regular visits to feed. The offspring, now adults, were easy to recognize because of their colouring and body language which was similar to the alpha female.

  Alba was lonesome in the double enclosure, but not for long. The following spring, she had a soul mate next door. Shasta was a wolf hybrid, part Alaskan Malamute, part wolf. She had been chained up in a backyard for years and collared so tightly that the leather was now embedded under her skin. It was fashionable in the 1990’s to own a wolf or a wolf-dog hybrid. According to the Humane Society of the United States at that time, there were about 200,000 hybrid wolf-dogs in America. Canada had no statistics available.

  The Humane Society of the United States was totally opposed to the unbridled practice of breeding wolves and dogs. No one should ever consider tying up a wolf or wolf-hybrid. Animals kept in such conditions, whether wolves or wolf-dog crosses, will respond badly to their treatment. They may become inordinately fearful, or extremely aggressive. Shasta was both and very unpredictable. It was extremely difficult to read her body language, but it was obvious that her abusers had been male. Ron was never able to establish a good relationship with this animal, but over time she did accept and play with me. I could hand feed her and enter her enclosure, but I was always ‘ON GUARD’ with this hybrid, as her behavior could change in a second. Ron never entered her enclosure, but did sometimes feed her peanuts through the wire, while he stood vigilant outside observing both of us. Shasta died in July 2000.

  August 2, 1993 Alberta, a wolf-hybrid from the Crows Nest Pass of that western province, joined our family. This animal was wolf with a touch of Siberian Husky, but her behavior was always that of a Canis lupus. She was a sheer joy, a great wolf ambassador, who looked and sang like her kin. The daily wolf chorus was now a combination of Tundra, Taiga, Alba, Shasta and Alberta – all superb singers.

  On April 9, 1994 Alba died of bone cancer. When we buried her in view of the two wolf enclosures, all sang a beautiful, but mournful good-bye.

  On October 12, 1993 six animals arrived from the Michigan Pack, accompanied by Jim Wuepper and a volunteer. Jim was ready for a career change and wanted an appropriate home for his beloved wolves. Three adults were moved to the Haliburton Forest, and the Wolf Centre was established. Brigit, who was now 16 years old and in poor health, as well as two young pups, came to Wolf Hollow to live on the property with Tundra, Taiga, Alba, Alberta, Shasta, Ron and myself. Murray Palmer, Jack Lyons, Ron and I constructed an ‘add a room’ down by the river, joining the main enclosure so Brigit, Numa and Leda could socialize with Tundra and Taiga. Taiga showed little interest in the new arrivals, but Tundra pranced, whined, and leaped in the air, displaying much excitement. In a few days we slid the steel gate between the enclosures. Numa and Leda joined the adults and were immediately taken over by Tundra. The gate was closed so Brigit, who was deaf and almost blind after a small stroke, could have her own private retirement quarters where she could still socialize with the wolves or just watch at the fence.

  Brigit had a massive stroke in 1994. She was buried beside Alba, in full view of the wolves, and as we placed her into the ground, Tundra, Taiga, Numa, Leda, Alberta and Shasta sang a sorrowful farewell.

  In August 1995 a tornado ripped through Haliburton County, leaving a trail of destruction in many areas. We were on high alert all day and had secured the enclosures as best we could, but we were totally helpless when the tornado touched down in our area. The enclosure where Tundra, Taiga, Numa and Leda were housed was severely damaged by high winds and uprooted and fallen trees. Tundra, Taiga and Leda did not survive this disaster.

  Tundra and Taiga had been a part of our family for more than eleven years. We began and ended every day with the wolves. We had bottled fed the blue eyed pups and witnessed in awe as their eyes changed to pale yellow and their baby teeth fell out. I had brushed the wolves, as well as carded, combed spun and woven their clouds of softness into wearable art. They gave us respect and unconditional love and taught us so much about ourselves. They were our ‘furry, four legged kids’ and to lose three members of our family all at once was a crushing blow. We buried Tundra, Taiga and Leda in a large den that they had dug inside the enclosure. It was under an enormous, uprooted white pine stump that still displayed a tangle of root tentacles. My stomach churned and my heart throbbed. Uncontrollable tears streamed down my face. Ron and I worked in complete silence. Shaky and weak from our trauma, we helped each other back to the noiseless house.

  Numa somehow magically escaped, in spite of the fact that he was three legged. This young wolf had somehow lost his foot before coming to the sanctuary. Because it would not heal, nor could he walk properly with one shorter leg, Dr. Laurie Brown amputated the leg at the shoulder in the fall of 1993. There was also the fear that gangrene would set in. Numa compensated very well with his disability, but we were still shocked that he alone had escaped. The young
wolf loved his freedom and, although we recaptured him on two occasions and put him into the small secure enclosure where Brigit had lived, he found an ingenious way to escape once again. Numa hung around the property for weeks, usually showing himself in the early evening. After dinner, when all the chores were done, I took food and my camera down to the century old barn area, sat on the ground howled, and waited. He always came to eat, taking food gently from my fingers but moving away to ingest the meat. However, he positioned himself close enough to me so I could talk to him and photograph him. November is the beginning of hunting season in this area, so the night before the opening, I talked firmly to this wolf, warning him of the upcoming dangers, and suggesting that he hide somewhere on the property or that he go deep into the wilderness for safety. On November 15, he was sighted briefly with another wolf. Then he vanished.

  On the morning of March 4, 1996 – my birthday – I found Numa’s three legged tracks coming into the driveway and over to the feeding station. He appeared to have eaten and then his distinct markings went out the driveway along the side of the gravel road, out to the paved Buckhorn Road where they disappeared. I was ecstatic. What a birthday gift! I was overjoyed to know that he had survived not only the hunting season but also the winter.

  In late fall, 1995, R.D. was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. This devastating news would bring many changes and challenges for the next eight years. Ron completed Owls, The Silent Fliers, which was published in 1997, but was unable to complete any of the other seven books he was writing. I kept Ron at home where the surroundings and routines were consistent and familiar. He continued to enjoy his relationship with Alberta and two other wolves that had been brought to us by the MNR for rehabilitation and slow release. R.D. no longer knew who I was or why I was in his ‘space’ which made running the sanctuary, the property and the household very stressful for me. My sense of humor and silly antics were instrumental in my survival.