On Labor Day, my husband, Doug Honnold, and I drove through the northern part of Yellowstone Park on our way home from a hiking trip in the Beartooths.  The hillsides had turned tan, and some willows in the bottoms were tinged with yellow.  A few flowers hung on: white yarrow, purple aster, blue harebell.  We passed by a herd of over 100 buffalo, mostly moms and calves, sprawled out and eating leisurely in the afternoon sun, looking sleek, fat and — well, buff.

At Specimen Ridge, a gaggle of wildlife watchers stood by the roadside.  We slowed down.  There were our friends from Butte, Elizabeth and Bob Noble, adamant wolf/wildlife watchers and skilled photographers.  We saw a truck with B.C. plates — and recognized John and Mary Theberge.  John and Mary are two of Canada's most renowned wolf researchers, spending over 40 years in the Yukon, Labrador, British Columbia, and especially Algonquin Park, where they did some of the most extensive and creative research done on wolves anywhere. 

We pulled over, hugs all around.  And then Doug, the lead Earthjustice attorney representing 12 conservation groups, including NRDC, in the wolves lawsuit, was put on the spot to talk about the status of the wolf delisting case and last week's court hearing.  (Judge Molloy's wolf ruling came the very next day.)

Then it was John and Mary's turn to talk about their study of wolf howling and the differences they're finding between populations in Canada and the U.S.  After Yellowstone, they were headed next to the Southwest to research howling patterns in Mexican wolves.

John is a tall, grizzled figure with thoughtful eyes.  Mary is short and spirited, and she radiated joy at being in Yellowstone on a beautiful early fall day.  John spoke quietly, but authoritatively, expressing his dismay at the decision of Idaho and Montana to allow wolf-hunting right up to the borders of Yellowstone and Glacier Parks.  In Algonquin Park, the provincial government had drawn a "no hunt" buffer zone around the park in order to maintain the stability and integrity of the park packs.  Securing that protected buffer zone was no mean feat in a country where wolves are only protected in 2% of their range, and where protections are inadequate in parks that are too small.  This approach had proved effective in maintaining the Algonquin wolf population though, and would have been a smart thing to do here, he argued.  Why wasn't it done?  Good question — and there are a lot more questions, too, about the wisdom of hunting wolves prematurely in the Northern Rockies.

That night, I revisited John and Mary's book: Wolf Country: Eleven Years Tracking the Algonquin Wolves.  The packs had different names (Pretty Lake, Travers, Foys, Basin) but the stories were familiar.  There was as much controversy over the "big bad wolf" in Algonquin as in Yellowstone — incidents of poached wolves, overblown claims of deer losses, vitriolic meetings in small town churches, bureaucratic inaction in the face of compelling information about the needs for a different approach to the conservation of wolves.  Personal, vicious attacks on the Theberges.  John and Mary had reflected deeply on this situation and said in their book:

Just the thought of wolves works an evil alchemy in the minds of some people that penetrates deeply into the psyche, locks on to hidden fears and frustrations, and magnified emotion.  Maybe subliminally we remember when the competition was more equal, ancient struggles before humans took command.  Maybe because we do not condone overt racial discrimination, some people need something to master and condemn.

Perhaps it is simpler than that.  A hunter goes hunting for moose or deer and comes back empty-handed.  A farmer loses a sheep — or worries that his flock is in danger.  Parents raised on fairy tales and myths fear for the safety of their children.  All blame wolves.  Whatever the reason, the wolf-killing ban did not bring out the best in many people living in the Round Lake area.  If the wolf holds up a mirror, what is reflected was ugly.

John and Mary concluded their book with this:

Throughout our study, we have searched for a fundamental, ustainable relationship between humans, wolves, and things wild and free.  We have wondered, particularly, if science can identify such a relations and, through ecology, spin out guidelines.  If we can go to Mars and build all sorts of elaborate technological mousetraps, we should be able to manage nature in a sustainable way.

Reflecting on our years of study, we realize that we cannot.  The complexity of ecosystems places them beyond comprehension.  All the interactions between soils, maples, pines, hemlock, moose, deer, spruce budworm, winter tick, brainworm, snow, acorns, logging, hunting, snaring, coyote alleles, gene selection, cooperation, competition, co-evolution — and wolves... Nature's complexity can be, if we so choose, the fount of a deep respect.  Trying to understand at least some of the interrelated pieces brings immeasurable satisfaction.  It allows us to ask better questions and provides a platform for wonder.  Wonder breeds caring.  It is simple caring that leads to a cautious sustainable, harmonious relationship with wild things, caring even for the wolf-litmus of our environmental sincerity. 

Well said, John and Mary!  You who speak to wolves (and understand what they say back) can speak with similar eloquence to the rest of us.

As to the Theberges' generous offer to help in the Northern Rockies wolf battle — I plan to take them up on it.