Within the next few days, I was also to learn that wolves control their birth rate. This is done by the alpha male. When the land is rich and there are many moose and caribou, the alpha will permit two or even three females to mate with their lifelong mates and have puppies. If, on the other hand, the crop is poor, the alpha will prevent their mating. He achieves this by approaching a pair in January–February when the females come into estrus. Because he is the leader, they must grovel before him or at least sit down on their haunches. This effectively stops breeding. Eventually, the alpha need only glance at a pair to keep them apart. None argue back. In some years, the alpha does not breed, possibly to vary and strengthen the genetics of the pack.
The wolves that Luke and I were watching had mysteriously solved another problem. The pack had but one female; the number of the adults was low and the land was rich. As if to rectify all problems at once, the female gave birth to nine puppies. A large litter is six.
I was now convinced that wolves and men have much in common. Both have leaders, population problems, are hunters, and live together all year round. Both have language. So the difference, I said to myself, is that man shares and cares about his fellow man. Then I heard this: When the beta of the Toklat pack was injured by a moose, he limped off to a deserted patrol cabin, seemingly to die. Gordon Haber saw him collapse on the floor. The next evening, as Haber snowshoed home, he saw the alpha—with a large piece of meat in his mouth—slip into the cabin and drop it before the beta. The alpha returned every night to feed his friend until he was well. Upon hearing that story, I felt that the line that separates man from beast had faded forever. For me it was replaced by a sense of continuity. Even brotherly love, I said to myself, has evolved from the animals.
To realize this was at first disconcerting, then very exciting. Perhaps we are, after all, traveling a beautiful road. Perhaps we are evolving toward a mutual aid and not toward killing and destruction. Perhaps the growing attitude—that we must share the earth wisely with plant, beast, and man—is much more deeply rooted than we suspect.
When I returned home from Alaska, I was unable to publish my article on the wolf for the Reader’s Digest. The editors used a piece by a scientist, L. David Mech, author of that remarkable work The Wolves of Isle Royale. His was a beautiful story, and yet I was frustrated. I had notebooks of materials from generous scientists, and I had lived with and talked to wolves.
One afternoon an old friend, Pat Allen of Harper & Row, called, and I poured out my problems. “Let’s talk,” she said. The following afternoon I was telling Pat about wolves and then about my idea. By now, I understood why Romulus and Remus, the legendary founders of Rome, were suckled by a wolf. If there is an animal who might raise a human child, it is the puppy-loving, communicative wolf, who is sophisticated enough to share. To me the ancient statue of Romulus and Remus is a symbol of the continuity between the lower forms of life and civilized man.
“I want to write a story,” I blurted to Pat, “about a girl who lives with a pack of wolves and learns about mankind.” A year and a half and three rewrites later, I turned in a battered manuscript to Harper & Row.
That this book won the Newbery Medal intrigues me, because so many people have shared so much with me in its creation: Dr. Fox, Dr. Folk, Gordon Haber, and a lifetime of brilliant editors—Elizabeth Riley, formerly of Thomas Y. Crowell, Andrew Jones of the Reader’s Digest, Ellen Rudin of Harper & Row. Josephine Rogers, my agent, gave me encouragement through sunshine and blizzard. And John Schoenherr, the gifted illustrator, has made Julie and her wolves walk off the pages into life.
My parents, Frank and Carolyn Craighead, are also part of this book. They have bestowed on me, my three wonderful children, my brothers, nieces, and nephews—our whole pack—a love of nature and a deep respect for the earth and its precious cargo of life.
Thank you, librarians, for this great honor. For you are the ultimate sharers; you give your love of books to our children.
I have one last bouquet to toss, the bouquet of inspiration, and by now you must have guessed where I am going to throw it—right out across the vanishing wilderness, across the wild rivers, and tundras, over the delicate wildflowers and grasses, past the nose of the ten-legged bear, right into the midst of the vanishing species. I throw this bouquet to the loving wolves.
JULIE of the WOLVES
DISCUSSION GUIDE
Prepared by Kathleen Odean
1. Describe what Julie is like before she runs away and what her life is like then. Compare her personality at the beginning of the novel to the end. How does she change in the wilderness? Give details about what experiences and relationships cause the changes in her. RL.4-7.3
2. “Julie is gone. I am Miyax now,” she says when she leaves Barrow (here). Why does she announce that to herself and what does she mean by it? Discuss how the two names are used in the story and what each of them signifies. RL.4-7.2, RL.4-7.3
3. Miyax is heading for San Francisco and her pen pal, Amy. Describe what Miyax knows about Amy, her family, and her living situation. Why does Miyax want to go to San Francisco? Why does she change her mind about it later in the story? RL.4-7.3
4. What did Julie learn from Kapugen when she was young that helps her in the wilderness? Discuss the skills and knowledge he taught her as well as his views about the world. Describe Kapugen as she remembers him from those days and how he has changed when she meets him again. RL.4-7.1., RL.4-7.3
5. What is Miyax’s relationship with Amaroq and how does it evolve? Identify specific ways she learns to communicate with him. Describe his personality. How does he help her and what does she learn from him? RL.4-7.1., RL.4-7.3
6. Miyax also grows close to Kapu. What is Kapu like? How do the two of them become good friends? Discuss how Kapu changes and matures into his role as a leader. RL.4-7.3
7. Describe the dynamics of the wolf pack, including Jelly’s place in the pack. What does Amaroq do as the leader? How do the others treat him and show their feelings? Discuss ways that the pack works together to survive, and talk in detail about how they communicate with each other. RL.4-7.1., RL.4-7.3
8. Miyax remembers that Kapugen talked about the ecology of the tundra, saying that when the wolves are gone, “Their passing will end smaller lives upon which even man depends” (here). Explain the interdependence of animals in the wilderness and their relationship to plants. What do the wolves eat and how do they get it? What does Miyax eat and how does she get it? What difference do the seasons make to their diets? RL.4-7.1, RL.4-7.4
9. As her Newbery acceptance speech shows, Jean Craighead George had a great love and respect for the Alaskan wilderness. How do those feelings come across in the novel? Find passages that evoke the beauty of the tundra and discuss the language the author uses. RL.4-7.1., RL.4-7.4
10. Early in the book, Miyax recalls the meaning of the word “wealthy” among the old Eskimo hunters who thought “the riches of life were intelligence, fearlessness, and love,” not “money and goods” (here). Do you agree with them? By this measure, does Miyax become wealthy? Can Amaroq and Kapu be described as wealthy? Cite passages in the novel to back up your answers. RL.4-7.2
11. Near the end, it seems like Miyax is going to return to the wilderness with Tornait, who she earlier called “the spirit of the birds” (here). Describe the role Tornait plays in the story and what he means to Miyax. Why does Miyax turn back at the end? Discuss whether you think she made the right decision and how the ending impacted you emotionally. RL.4-7.2, RL.4-7.3
12. Compare the song that Miyax sings to Amaroq on the last page with the song she sang to him earlier (here & here). How are they similar and different? Discuss what each song conveys about Miyax, how she’s changed, and how she feels. RL.4-7.3, RL.4-7.4
SUGGESTED READING LIST
Carlson-Voiles, Polly. Summer of the Wolves. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Books for Children, 2012.
Frost, Helen. Diamond Willow. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2008.
/> George, Jean Craighead. Julie. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1994.
George, Jean Craighead. Julie’s Wolf Pack. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1997.
George, Jean Craighead. My Side of the Mountain. New York: Dutton, 1959.
George, Twig C. Swimming with Sharks. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1999.
Hill, Kirkpatrick. The Year of Miss Agnes. New York: Margaret K. McElderry Books, 2000.
Hobbs, Will. Far North. New York: Morrow Junior Books, 1996.
Johnson, Terry Lynn. Ice Dogs. New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2012.
Mikaelsen, Ben. Rescue Josh McGuire. New York: Hyperion Books for Children, 1991.
Mikaelson, Ben. Touching Spirit Bear. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2001.
Myers, Edward. Climb or Die. New York: Hyperion Books for Children, 1994.
O’Dell, Scott. Island of the Blue Dolphins. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1960.
Paulsen, Gary. Hatchet. New York: Bradbury Press, 1987.
Seidler, Tor. Firstborn. New York: Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2015.
EXCERPT FROM JULIE
Eager to know what happens next in Miyax’s adventures? Turn the page to read an excerpt from Julie, the sequel to Julie of the Wolves.
A wolf howled. He began on a note lower than a bear’s growl, then climbed the scale to the highest pitch of the wind and held it there.
The cry traveled across the snowy tundra and was heard by a young girl standing at the door of a small green house. The wooden structure sat on the edge of an Eskimo village on the bank of the frozen Avalik River in Alaska. She pushed back the halo of fur that framed her lovely face and listened. The wolf was telling her to come with him. She did not answer.
Julie Edwards Miyax Kapugen knew the wolf well. He had shared food with her when she had been lost on the endless tundra. He had run and played with her. He had rested in her tent while she had nursed him back to health from his bullet wounds. Now he was trying to locate her. He must not find her. He must go away, far away. After many years of separation, Julie was going home to her father, Kapugen, and he, she knew, would kill the wolf.
“That is how it is,” she whispered to the howler. “If you come near Kapugen, he will shoot you. He is like all Eskimo hunters. He will say, ‘The wolf gave himself to me.’”
The howl rose and fell.
Julie squinted toward the distant caller. “Stay away, beloved Kapu. I am going home.”
She waited. The wolf she had named Kapu after her father, the great hunter and leader, did not call again. Quickly she opened and closed the first door that led into Kapugen’s house. She walked into the qanitchaq, an entry room designed to keep out the cold. Its walls were hung with parkas and boots, and on the floor stood paddles, guns, and gasoline cans. She put down her pack, took off her sealskin parka and maklaks, or boots, and hung them on pegs. She stepped to the second door, which opened into the living room, and hesitated.
She thought of her childhood on the Eskimo island of Nunivak in the Bering Sea, and of her maidenhood in Barrow on the Arctic Ocean. Then she thought of the day she had left that town desperate to end an arranged marriage. She had gone out on the tundra planning to walk to Point Hope and take a boat to San Francisco to meet her pen pal, Amy. On the tundra wilderness she had become hopelessly lost.
She tried not to think about the lovable wolf pack that had felled a caribou and saved her life. She must put them in the past. She had found her beloved father and was going home to him.
Yesterday he had welcomed her in this very house. Her heart had lightened and her burden of loneliness had fallen away. Her head had danced with joyful thoughts.
Her happiness had not lasted long. Within a short time she had realized Kapugen was not the same father who had taken her hunting and fishing with the seasons on Nunivak.
He was not the father who had lived in grace with the sea and land. Kapugen had changed. He had a white-American wife, a gussak. He had radios, a telephone, and a modern stove. Julie could have accepted these things had not her eyes fallen on Kapugen’s airplane pilot helmet and goggles. She had seen them on the man in the airplane window who had shot Amaroq, the magnificent leader of her wolf pack. This she could not reconcile. When Kapugen had left the house, she had put on her pack and returned to her camp along the barren river.
There, alone in the crackling Arctic night with the hoarfrost spangling her tent with ice ferns, she knew she must return. No matter what he had done, Kapugen was her father, and she loved him.
“We do not judge our people,” she heard the Eskimo elders say, and Julie pointed her boots toward Kapugen.
Now, only a wooden door stood between them.
She opened it and stepped inside. Kapugen was home. He was seated on a caribou skin on the floor sharpening his man’s knife. He was alone.
He did not look up, although Julie knew he had heard her enter. She tiptoed to the iglek, a pile of furs stacked into a couch almost as tall as she. She climbed up on it, sat, and folded her hands in her lap.
Kapugen sighted along his knife to see if it was satisfactorily sharp. Julie picked a thread from her woolen sock. Kapugen selected a section of bearded-seal hide and cut a slender thong from it. He tied the thong around his boot. Julie sat quietly.
Presently Kapugen looked out the window at the marine-blue sky of the sunless winter day.
“The wind has died down,” he said. “That is good.”
“The stars are bright,” Julie added.
“That is good,” said Kapugen.
A silence followed. Kapugen tightened the boot thong and at last looked at her.
“Did you hear the wolf?” he asked, looking into her eyes.
“I heard the wolf,” she answered.
Another silence ensued. Kapugen did not take his eyes from her eyes. Julie knew he was speaking to her in the manner of the Eskimo hunter who communicates without sound. His eyes were saying that a wolf did not give that call of friendship very often.
Julie did not answer. She studied her father.
Kapugen was a stocky man with a broad back and powerful arms. His face was burned brown from the Arctic wind and sun, and his hands were blackened by frostbite. His hair was shorter than she remembered, but his chin was still smooth and plucked hairless. A faint mustache darkened his upper lip. He sat with his legs straight out before him.
“The wolf knows you.” He spoke slowly and thoughtfully.
“He does,” Julie answered.
Kapugen picked up the seal hide and cut another thong. Julie waited for him to speak again. He did not. He gave his knife one last hone and put it in the sheath on his belt. In one movement he rose to his feet and opened his arms. She jumped down from the iglek and ran to him.
After a long, comforting embrace, Kapugen lifted Julie’s chin and touched the smooth olive skin of her cheek.
“I’m glad you came back,” he said. “I was afraid I had lost you for a second time. I love you with the fullness of the white moon.”
“That’s a lot,” she said shyly. He crossed his feet and lowered himself to the caribou skin, then patted it and invited Julie to sit. Julie saw the question on his face. She answered it.
“I broke the marriage arrangement with the son of your serious partner.” Her voice was very soft.
“If a man and a woman,” Kapugen said in a low, even voice, “do not love, they part company. That is the right way.”
They sat quietly.
Kapugen, Julie saw, wanted to know more about her past, but, respecting her privacy, he did not ask. She must tell him no matter how painful her memories were.
“Do you not know,” she asked in her gentle voice, “where I’ve been since that day Aunt Martha took me away from you to attend school?”
“I only know you went to Barrow when you were thirteen and old enough to marry,” he answered, pacing his words slowly. “I happened to meet Nusan, your mother-in-law, in that town. She said you had run off and died.”
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“That was a terribly sad thing for her to say when she didn’t really know,” Julie said. “I am sorry. I will try to tell you what happened—perhaps not all—some things are still too sad.”
Julie told him about her unhappy life in Mekoryok, the town on Nunivak, her days in Barrow, her marriage, and how deeply she feared Daniel, her angry husband. She recounted her days on the tundra with the gentle wolf pack and its kind leader, Amaroq, but she could not bring herself to say that Kapugen had killed him. The words would not form.
When she was done, Kapugen lowered his eyes for a moment, then looked up at her. His eyes said how much he loved her and how grateful he was that she was alive.
Julie buried her head on his shoulder, and he hugged her against his strong chest. This time as he held her, she felt forgiveness run up her spine and into her heart and mind. Kapugen, after all, was a provider for his family and village. Eskimo providers hunted.
“I am very tired,” she finally said, her shoulders slumping. Kapugen brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. He lifted her in his arms, carried her to the iglek, and placed her upon it. She sank down into the sweet, soft furs and pulled a grizzly-bear skin over herself.
“I am glad you came home, Miyax,” he said, and kissed her. She smiled to hear him call her by her Eskimo name. Like most Eskimos, Julie had two names, English and Eskimo—Julie Edwards and Miyax Kapugen. Hearing her father call her Miyax made her feel closer to him, and she decided she would let only him call her that. The name bound the two of them to her mother, who had given it to her, and to each other. To the rest of the people she would be Julie.
She closed her eyes and slept deeply.
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