In the 1990s Yellowstone elk populations were at a high of twenty thousand. By 2015 those numbers had dropped to four to five thousand. Some scientists think that this lower number of elk is the true carrying capacity for the park. Meanwhile, the bison population has quadrupled in the last twenty years, so much so that the Yellowstone biologists are conducting controversial culls of bison herds. “Wolf numbers are also changing,” Cristina notes. Wolf birth rates in Yellowstone fluctuated because of resumed hunting in 2012 after the federal government returned wolf management to states, with some often hostile to wolves. “Wolves have learned what they need to do to stay alive,” Cristina remarks. “The first year of the wolf hunts, wolves were naïve, and there were losses.”
In 2003 wolf populations peaked and then crashed. Pups went from a high of around 160 down to only 3. One year only one wolf pup survived. That had to do with a wave of parvo, or distemper, which is very dangerous for all canines. Cristina explains that scientists call these big population changes the stochastic effect, meaning unexpected, uncontrollable events that you can’t predict or control. Storms, drought, disease—all of these contribute to what Darwin described as nature’s very complex “tangled bank.”
Cristina elaborates. “Our stories and science about nature must be as complex and sophisticated as the natural world itself. Science works incrementally, taking us ever deeper into nature’s tangled bank as we investigate ecological questions. Each study answers some questions and begets new ones.”
In her own continuing research into keystone species and trophic cascades, Cristina is now including new studies of how fire dramatically changes an ecosystem. In her Alberta, Canada, fieldwork, Cristina documents the after-effects of setting fires in a system that has a high density of elk and two wolf packs. When you combine wolves and fire, she explains, you get really powerful trophic cascades.
Fire, climate change, drought, hunting, elk and willow growth, wolves, bison, beaver—all of these elements work together to shape story-as-ecology. And science needs time to understand and tell these not-so-simple stories. The Yellowstone wolf recovery is still in its infancy, even after twenty years. Several years into wolf recovery, when Yellowstone’s ecosystem was changing, it was very tempting to tell a simplistic story of wolves single-handedly saving Yellowstone, for elk numbers dropping and, thus, more vegetation, thriving trees, more songbirds, beaver, and even changing riverbanks. The trophic cascades theory, with its apex predators as top-down determinants of ecosystems, replaced the bottom-up, plant-based previous theories.
As the scientists debate whether trophic cascades are most influenced by predator/top-down or plant/bottom-up processes, as they try to determine whether it is wolves or beaver or climate change that most shapes and changes an ecosystem like Yellowstone, they all agree on one thing: the “great complexity of ecosystems and the likelihood that the truth lies somewhere in the middle.” The scientists agree that wolves do matter—but they are “not alone on the ecological dance floor.” Wolves are not enough to restore a degraded ecosystem like Yellowstone.
Cristina Eisenberg reminds us that “science’s job is to come close to the truth.” If a simplistic trophic cascades theory that wolves alone save ecosystems is shown to be false, it gives ammunition to those who don’t want wolves. Unlike many scientists who thrive on conflict and competition, Cristina often talks about finding “the middle path” between diverse scientific factions. It’s also her style when working with Congress, ranchers, and conservationists. Certainly her successful and well-funded research grants—including her latest 2015–2016 grants from the Kainai Nation, Earthwatch Institute, several foundations, and Parks Canada to study wolves and how they interact with forces of nature such as fire—reveal that scientists, like wild animals and humans, can coexist with each other. Since 2008 Cristina has been experimenting with large, landscape-scale fires in Waterton Lakes National Park in a place that has a thriving wolf population and one of the highest elk densities ever recorded in North America.
Interestingly, even with that many elk, the wolves keep them on the move and, along with fire, keep both aspen and grasslands in superb health. Now she is working with First Nations to look at a third force of nature: bison. Because bison were historically present—along with wolves and fire—before European settlement of this area, the animals probably combined work with these other forces to maintain this landscape in a balanced condition. In this work Cristina is using cutting-edge science to demonstrate how traditional ecological knowledge practiced by indigenous people in managing this landscape still applies today. And the wolf is integral to all of it.
Coexistence is a huge factor in any story about wolf recovery and habitat restoration. We need to talk about returning wolves not only to national parks but also to their former territories, which covered two-thirds of North America. “National Parks and preserves are not the answer,” Cristina says, “because even places like Yellowstone amount to being little more than a postage stamp of protected land in the scheme of things.”
A recent example is the long-suffering red wolf in North Carolina. After federal protection for red wolves languished and there were only fifty wild red wolves remaining in the world, local support for red wolf recovery surprised many trying to abandon red wolf recovery. In early 2016 a group of private landowners signed a petition asking the USFW to support keeping endangered red wolves on their land. It’s this kind of cooperation from those who are the most affected by wolf recovery that offers hope for wolves returning to their native territories in this country.
As science continues to discover new wrinkles in the trophic cascade and wolf recovery story, climate change overshadows this more sophisticated story. Many scientists believe that we are now in the sixth extinction, which is driven by climate change. If you have a system that is as resilient as possible, with top predators like wolves allowed to function ecologically by evolution, that in turn boosts biodiversity.
Cristina explains that rich and vibrant biodiversity is our insurance policy when dealing with climate change. “So it makes perfect sense to preserve these apex predators if we want to have a resilient world for future generations.” She gives this example: What if you have ten species of sparrows, and by 2100 you lose 25 percent of them—that ecosystem is still going to function. But if you only have two species of sparrows and climate change hits, you’re out of luck.
In an increasingly changing world, why not take out every ecological insurance policy possible for our own health and the health of our planet? Wolves, as keystone species, are a vital part of that insurance. “Bringing keystones back, because of their far-reaching effects, is one of the simplest ways to improve ecosystem function and increase biodiversity,” says Cristina. “They are major players in any thriving natural world.”
Cristina reminds us, “We need to tell a more sophisticated story in which wolves are part of the picture but also work together with other animals and elements in the ecosystem.”
Scenario Three: A Possible Future of Wolves and Trophic Cascades
Wolves chase an elk herd back into the forest and away from the riverbank willows. Elk graze now in the higher meadows, bright with mountain wildflowers—purple iris and forget-me-nots, pink shooting stars, and rosy paintbrush—but where aspen still struggle to survive. Cool streams and creeks move more slowly now, dense and bogged with willows where returning beaver busily build their homes. These industrious beaver ponds, with their intricate lattice-work of willow and other woods, sift down more sediment that roots even more healthy willows. In the nearby valley a fire is set to temper and encourage the forest to open up to more space and sunshine. Huckleberries, which bears feast on, grow more heartily after the burn; the ash fertilizes the soil to root and nourish even more vegetation and healthier trees.
In winter the elk and even antelope thrive on these thick grasses and shrubs. After the fire even more wildflowers astonish and attract bees, birds, songbirds. The controlled fire also cleanses the f
orest floor where decomposing logs were once too slow to rot, so they had been fuel for future wildfires. With increased drought and climate change, these forests, without the natural benefits of flames, might otherwise burn uncontrollably. After burns, new and fresh grasses, herbs, shrubs, and trees nourish new generations of wildlife. Cougars, grizzlies, coyotes, foxes, and wolves survive together, no more species missing, both top predators and rich habitat beginning the restoration.
Conservationists working on the recovery of wolves hope to see them recolonize their original territory. Many imagine North America’s wild lands once again balanced and restored with the help of this fellow predator. Many hope their grandchildren will hear the howling, the call to community of the wild wolves. Even now scientists are drawing maps of North America with projected future wild wolf ranges widely expanded throughout much of the West, the Rockies, the Great Lakes, and the Northeast. To return wolves to their native lands will take not just time but also a change in cultural values—an evolution in the American character.
7. 06: THE WORLD’S MOST FAMOUS WOLF
Some wolves, like humans, are legends—larger than life and yet strangely vulnerable. This was true for one Yellowstone wolf, 832F, also named 06 for the year she was born. She was strong and self-sufficient, especially for a female. With buff, gray-black, and agouti-colored fur, in summer she bore a silver-tinged saddle over her impressive shoulders. Her long-legged lope was a blur of copper and white underbelly, with a dark, distinguishing black marking on her thick tail—the sign of the wolf. Most striking were her deep brown eyes, fierce yet expressive, always watching. Nothing was lost on her. It was easy to see early on that she would be resilient and remarkable, the alpha of Yellowstone’s Lamar Canyon family, that she would enthrall not one but two chosen mates, that she would successfully hunt for and defend her own pups—even when all around other wolf families came close to starving. This mother wolf, this charismatic clan leader would never be captured for longer than it took to radio collar her. Instead, she captured us.
Scientists don’t name their study animals, much preferring scientific stud names like “832F.” Once we name animals, we give them an identity and character, a recognition of their individual lives. It’s our human nature to call by name those we love—and so 832F came to be known by her nickname, “06.” She was born to the stately Agate pack. Because the Yellowstone wolves have been so intensely studied for twenty years, their genealogies are well documented. Tracking a Yellowstone wolf’s heritage is like reading a lineage of royal bloodlines. Each pack, their ancestors, age, and social position can be traced to the very first families—the founder wolves—reintroduced in 1995.
06 was the granddaughter of the alpha male of the famous Druid pack, 21M and 42F, the female wolf nicknamed Cinderella who rose up against her tyrannical sister (see Chapter 5). Wolf watchers in the park noticed something different about this young female, heir to a lineage of strong females. Even as a pup 06 was powerful and inquisitive. There was an electricity about her that translated into a local buzz among the scientists and watchers and then a growing reputation.
Laurie Lyman, a retired teacher who has been documenting Yellowstone wolves for years, first photographed 06 with her mother and sister when 06 was two years old. “She attracted males from everywhere,” Lyman said. “At that time we should have known that she was going to be exceptional.… The action was nonstop.”
Although 06’s Agate family was one of the most dominant in Yellowstone, it was not immune to tragedy. When she was two years old her father, the alpha male, died. The loss threw his family into chaos. His alpha female mate and her young pups faced a winter of dwindling prey because elk numbers were down. The family fell apart as some of the wolves dispersed and others died of starvation. Of the original seventeen wolves in 06’s Agate family, very few survived. 06 barely endured. But with such a sadly diminished family, it was also time for her to leave in search of a mate.
Wolves have a strong instinct against interbreeding and often must leave their families in search of an unrelated mate. If a solitary female finds a willing male, she must win him by dominating his current female in a battle for his affection. Usually a female finds a willing mate within months. Not so with 06. Was it because she was so singular in her own clout and curiosity? She was destined for more than a subordinate status with an alpha male. Without a family to hunt alongside her, 06 had to content herself with rodents like prairie dogs. Those who watched saw her ribs sharply etched with hunger, her flanks scarred from mange, her characteristic lope and trot hobbled by fatigue. Many lesser wolves would have simply given up and died alone, bereft of family and food. For over a year 06 braved a dangerous and solitary life in Yellowstone.
Observers watching 06 struggle feared she would be missing come spring. But somehow 06 was skilled enough to survive blizzards, rival packs, and disappearing prey. By spring she was seen galloping around meadows aglow with wildflowers, still looking for a mate, still very selective about her suitors. “One particular mating season, she had five different suitors—as far as I know, that’s a world record for a wild wolf,” Rick McIntyre noted, “and she dumped every one of them.”
One bright spring day in 2010 06 was spotted in the company of two yearling brothers who followed her like the rock star she was becoming—self-possessed, discerning, gorgeous, the “Angelina Jolie of wolves,” as Rick McIntyre called her. Through word of mouth, social media, and YouTube, people around the world were watching 06, later calling her “The Legend of Lamar Valley.”
When it did come time for 06 at last to accept one of her many suitors, she bewildered researchers by finally accepting a pair of immature brothers, 754M and 755M, shaggy but strong charcoal wolves with silver snouts and sturdy, streamlined legs. These two brothers forsook seven sisters in a pack they’d been courting to follow 06. It takes only two wolves to form a family, so the trio of 06, a massive gray female wolf, attended by two young brothers was a sight many wolf watchers most longed to see. When 06 chose to mate with 755M, the pups were also eagerly anticipated by wolf watchers. Although the alpha female, 06, and her alpha mate, 755M, became the main breeding pair, 754M was an accommodating and amiable uncle—and sometimes a mate.
But soon researchers noted that the young brothers were rather clueless about fathering, more involved in jaw wrestling and playing with one another than providing for any of their pups. Because 06 denned so closely to the road, wolf watchers could follow her valiant struggles to raise her black and gray pups, many hoping that the two bad-boy mates would finally figure out their responsibilities.
In one scene in the documentary about 06, She-Wolf, she struggles to steal a shank of elk carcass from a bear’s kill. Her body is still heavy from birthing, her teats swollen and worn from feeding greedy newborns, her gait a little uneven from exhaustion. Nearby the brothers don’t know or don’t care enough to guard the carcass for future feedings; instead, they romp around together. So 06 wearily picks her way over rocky ground. Her jaws clench the red meat she will eat, regurgitate, and feed her pups. But while she is in a slow midstride, a huge eagle zooms down, grabs the meat right out of 06’s mouth, and flies off with her supper. Stunned, there is nothing for 06 to do but return to the carcass. Now a bear is guarding the precious food and, with a ferocious growl, chases her off. The matriarch and her pups will go hungry a little longer.
The brothers were so immature that they also rarely helped 06 in the hunt. Wolves usually hunt in groups. It often takes four 120-pound wolves to bring down a two-thousand-pound bull bison, with the largest leading the chase from behind their prey. 06 had to develop her own solitary style, what McIntyre called “face-to-face, direct combat-to-the-death.” This is the most dangerous hunting strategy. A seven-hundred-pound bull elk can stomp a wolf, toss her helplessly into the air, and then gore her once she hits the ground. But 06 was quick and efficient and soon learned to avoid any counterattack. Instead, she leapt high into the air, spun sideways, and sank her shar
p teeth into an elk’s throat—a quick kill. Once McIntyre witnessed 06, weakened after giving birth, take down two elk in ten minutes. Sightings of 06 in her independent wanderings through the lush Lamar Valley were enough to keep any other wolves away from her territory.
Watching 06’s family, one wonders about her strategy to choose two companion males. The brothers could learn to play double male roles, father and devoted uncle. If one of the brothers were killed, there would still be another mate. As the brothers settled down and matured, 06 taught them and their pups how to hunt as a family. Three litters of pups—thirteen newborns—grew their family. Of the offspring in 06’s very first litter, three were surprisingly gray, considering their father was so dark. Not unexpectedly, the four pups were self-reliant and robust, especially the daughters. One of the female pups was called Middle Gray to differentiate her from her siblings by color. There was also Light Gray and Dark Gray. Many of 06’s sons dispersed from the family to find their own mates. After some years the Lamar Canyon family was vibrant, endlessly playful, and thriving.
But that didn’t mean their struggle was over. Nearby lived their rivals, the Mollies—formerly the original Crystal Creek family whose ancestors I’d first witnessed in 1995. The Mollies were deadly enemies of 06’s family, each patrolling and possessively guarding their close territories. McIntyre tells the story of their fateful encounter in 2012. In her den 06 was nursing her newborns, still weak from having given birth. As if sensing her vulnerability, the Mollies sniffed out her den, sixteen adult wolves circling, ready to attack. Suddenly observers saw a large wolf desperately racing out of the forest, trailed by the rival Mollies. It was 06 running for her life toward a cliff. She would either have to leap to her death or turn around and face off sixteen furious wolves.
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