any spirit. A deer is a gift from the land.” And the land holds secrets to our own nature. Watching wolves has made her more aware. “When I’m out there, I can track a wolf and see where they paused and looked out over a valley at something, and I’ll do the same thing.” She has learned to listen more carefully to what people say, and to be more tolerant of opposing views.
At the same time, she cares deeply about the wolves. In December 1992, Phyllis, who had been the alpha female of the Magic and Sage Creek packs, was shot to death by a hunter who had often seen her before and who knew her status in the pack. Phyllis had been an alpha female for seven years. She was an old wolf, wise in the ways of the wild and matriarch of a large and dispersing clan that might one day repopulate Montana’s wilderness with wolves. “Of all the wolves,” says Boyd, “I felt strongest about her.” When she heard that Phyllis had been killed, Boyd grieved. She was angry. “I felt this no-good jerk went and plugged her.”
But a year later, on her Christmas vacation, Boyd went into Canada and visited the site of the shooting. She spent half a day talking with the hunter who had shot Phyllis, and she came away feeling better. “The hunter is neither a bad person nor a wolf hater,” she says. “I wish he hadn’t shot her. I’m not saying what he did was right or wrong. But after talking to him and thinking about the ideas he grew up with, I understand why.”
The new science struggles to be wholly empirical, objective, based entirely on the eye. But, however its practitioners may trim theheart out of their writings, they are still moved. It’s a shadowy world out there, and unseen things murmur and scuttle under the leaves of fact. Those who understand this are better able to understand their own vision, and understanding our vision is part of understanding wolves.
2
LAST OF THE BOUNTY HUNTERS
It is hard to talk about wolves in North America without talking about the campaign of eradication we waged against them. But other views of wolves preceded the era of organized slaughter, and the mania for wolf control, laid against the broader backdrop of human experience, appears to be an aberration, a temporary sickness that afflicted only some of our species, and which even some of the most avid wolf hunters came to regret.
Earlier cultures looked more favorably upon wolves. Among North American Indians, clans were identified with particular animals, and a member of the bear or badger clan might look to that animal for guidance or inspiration. A clan member might be prohibited from killing his or her totem animal, lest the animal spirit take offense and abandon the mortal. Wolves were often the totems. The Moquis of the American Southwest, for example, divided into wolf, bear, eagle, and deer clans and believed that at death the spirit of the departed returned to the body of a living bear or wolf or eagle ordeer. The Niska of British Columbia divided into wolf, bear, eagle, and raven clans, and all had specific prohibitions connected with the totem animals.
The sanctions of a totem animal could be forceful. Frank Glaser, who trapped and poisoned wolves in Alaska early in this century, told a story in
Outdoor Life
magazine about a rabid wolf that attacked an Eskimo named Punyuk. In the middle of January, Punyuk was camped in a stove-heated tent between the Kobuk and Selawik rivers in Alaska. It was late in the day; the sun was down and it was dark. His dogs, tethered to willow clumps outside, began to growl and bark. Punyuk went out to see what was going on. In the darkness he saw what he took to be one of his dogs running loose. He threw a chunk of ice at the animal and ordered it to come. It leapt on him, knocked him down, and bit him about the head, tearing open his scalp. He managed to rise, open a pocket knife, slash the animal, and then choke it into unconsciousness. But he could not kill it, because he was a member of
At the same time, she cares deeply about the wolves. In December 1992, Phyllis, who had been the alpha female of the Magic and Sage Creek packs, was shot to death by a hunter who had often seen her before and who knew her status in the pack. Phyllis had been an alpha female for seven years. She was an old wolf, wise in the ways of the wild and matriarch of a large and dispersing clan that might one day repopulate Montana’s wilderness with wolves. “Of all the wolves,” says Boyd, “I felt strongest about her.” When she heard that Phyllis had been killed, Boyd grieved. She was angry. “I felt this no-good jerk went and plugged her.”
But a year later, on her Christmas vacation, Boyd went into Canada and visited the site of the shooting. She spent half a day talking with the hunter who had shot Phyllis, and she came away feeling better. “The hunter is neither a bad person nor a wolf hater,” she says. “I wish he hadn’t shot her. I’m not saying what he did was right or wrong. But after talking to him and thinking about the ideas he grew up with, I understand why.”
The new science struggles to be wholly empirical, objective, based entirely on the eye. But, however its practitioners may trim theheart out of their writings, they are still moved. It’s a shadowy world out there, and unseen things murmur and scuttle under the leaves of fact. Those who understand this are better able to understand their own vision, and understanding our vision is part of understanding wolves.
2
LAST OF THE BOUNTY HUNTERS
It is hard to talk about wolves in North America without talking about the campaign of eradication we waged against them. But other views of wolves preceded the era of organized slaughter, and the mania for wolf control, laid against the broader backdrop of human experience, appears to be an aberration, a temporary sickness that afflicted only some of our species, and which even some of the most avid wolf hunters came to regret.
Earlier cultures looked more favorably upon wolves. Among North American Indians, clans were identified with particular animals, and a member of the bear or badger clan might look to that animal for guidance or inspiration. A clan member might be prohibited from killing his or her totem animal, lest the animal spirit take offense and abandon the mortal. Wolves were often the totems. The Moquis of the American Southwest, for example, divided into wolf, bear, eagle, and deer clans and believed that at death the spirit of the departed returned to the body of a living bear or wolf or eagle ordeer. The Niska of British Columbia divided into wolf, bear, eagle, and raven clans, and all had specific prohibitions connected with the totem animals.
The sanctions of a totem animal could be forceful. Frank Glaser, who trapped and poisoned wolves in Alaska early in this century, told a story in
Outdoor Life
magazine about a rabid wolf that attacked an Eskimo named Punyuk. In the middle of January, Punyuk was camped in a stove-heated tent between the Kobuk and Selawik rivers in Alaska. It was late in the day; the sun was down and it was dark. His dogs, tethered to willow clumps outside, began to growl and bark. Punyuk went out to see what was going on. In the darkness he saw what he took to be one of his dogs running loose. He threw a chunk of ice at the animal and ordered it to come. It leapt on him, knocked him down, and bit him about the head, tearing open his scalp. He managed to rise, open a pocket knife, slash the animal, and then choke it into unconsciousness. But he could not kill it, because he was a member of
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