Home is the Hunter

COLORADO WOLF STORIES XIX

Photo by Clint McKnight

Note: This continuing story is a work of informed speculation. It tells the imagined experiences of a family of gray wolves who represent the 10 actual wolves captured in Oregon and released in Colorado in December 2023 as directed by a state voter initiative.

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Springtime in Colorado trickles down the mountainside in rivulets of glistening snowmelt. It rises on the morning air in a chorus of invigorated birdsong. It streams in beams of sunlight through new green aspen leaves.

The seasonal rebirth of the forest touches every living thing. Tassel-eared squirrels chatter sociably in the trees. Black bears have emerged from their dens to eagerly feed on winter-kill and new vegetation. Elk and mule deer that survived the hard months of poor forage are regaining strength, the females’ bellies swollen with the promise of new calves and fawns.

It is a time of transformation.

The drab landscape of winter is only a memory now. In its place is a kaleidoscope of green, a riot of photosynthesis, each plant straining for a share of sunlight that pours down out of the sky like warm honey.

The new wolf pups are transforming as well. At almost four weeks old, their blue eyes have opened, and they venture outside their den for the first time with a combination of curiosity and caution. Under their mother’s watchful eyes, the five little wolves are a shape-shifting puppy cluster. First, one bold explorer takes a few steps forward, and another does the same, then they both run stumbling back to their siblings. A bent-eared pup jumps up on her brother, two more players pile on. Now all are wrestling and romping, until there is an exhausted pause in the action. Finally, a pup squirms free, steps away, and the tumbling explorations continue.

Mother Wolf inhales and releases a long breath. Though this is a vulnerable time for her young ones, at the moment they are all safe, healthy, and getting stronger. The family fed well yesterday after easily taking down a cow elk with an injured leg. Basking in the sweet combination of warm sunshine, cool air, and a full belly, she feels an unaccustomed contentment.

This female wolf with the coal-black coat has come a long way.

It was a winter afternoon just over a year ago when she found herself captured by the upright creatures and confined in a metal crate. Her only hope then was to survive the bewildering experience. She could never have imagined all that was to come: her release into an unfamiliar landscape, the mate she would find, the family they would create, the brother she would reunite with, and all the joys and sorrows they would experience together.

The challenges she has faced have been many, but no greater demand exists than simply keeping her young ones safe from harm. On the morning that her first litter of pups emerged from the den, she and her mate fended off a deadly attack by a mountain lion. Then came the day she rescued Black Pup from being swept away in a rushing stream. Merely three months later, and despite her desperate efforts to find him, Black Pup mysteriously disappeared during a violent thunderstorm, never to be seen again.

While she does not think about that tragedy in such terms, this mother wolf has been fortunate to lose only one of her offspring.

Now, with the survivors of that first litter grown into capable young adults, her focus is entirely on her newborns. She watches over them as they romp and tussle, learning their first lessons in what it means to be a gray wolf.

A gust of wind ruffles her fur. She raises her nose and sniffs at the air, gathering what information it carries. Mother Wolf is alert, resolute, and resilient. She is the definition of family devotion. Until the end of her days she will meet whatever challenges may come, just as she and others of her kind have for countless generations.

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Little Wolf and his sisters, Amber-Eyes and Green-Eyes, are indeed “yearlings” now, fully grown and experienced members of the pack. Their investigations this morning have brought them to a swollen creek, thundering with melting snow. It’s the kind of obstacle that once upon a time set Little Wolf to yowling and running for home. Today, however, he has discovered a fallen tree trunk suspended above the churning waters, and he moves to lead his sisters across it.

Amber observes with approval. Though she is the strongest and the natural leader among them, she often allows her brother opportunity to demonstrate just this kind of confidence. He is still the smallest member of the pack, and he was once its most timid, but his courage has grown steadily ever since the dangerous bull elk hunt on the tundra. Ambers’ efforts have given Little Wolf room to find his way, and her instincts will be affirmed when he one day steps up to help lead a pack of his own.

For sister Green-Eyes, such initiative is gladly left to others. She greets each day as an opportunity for fun and adventure. This last-born daughter is the bright spirit of the family, who faces the world with an open heart. It is undeniably the experience of canines like the green-eyed wolf to know a range of deeply felt emotions, from sorrow to exhilaration.

One-by-one, with the waters below them roaring in their ears, the siblings make their way across the log and safely reach the other side. Greenie is invigorated by the passage. She gives her brother an impulsive nip then runs off. Little Wolf utters a sharp whine of delighted outrage and he is on her tail in a flash.

Amber takes a moment to watch her siblings disappear into the piney woods. The joy of her sister and brother is infectious, their challenge is irresistible, and Amber-Eyes races to catch up with them.

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Black Wolf has returned to the familiar high cliff where once more he looks out over the intriguing landscape to the east. The high mountain peaks are still buried in snow, but his instincts tell him it is finally time to begin his journey. Black Wolf’s days with the pack have come to an end.

The traveling will be difficult and dangerous. There will be roads that must be crossed and upright creatures to avoid. He may even find himself trespassing in the territory of other wolves.

And he hopes that he does.

But the black wolf has survived on his own before. He roamed solo in this new world for months until his wanderings led him to an unexpected reunion with his sister and her mate, and he became part of their family. He helped raise and train the pups, and made vital contributions during each hunt to ensure their survival. Black Wolf is deeply bonded to this pack. Yet he also feels an overpowering urge to leave its familiar security to find a mate of his own.

He raises his head and howls into the void. His song is low and searching, rising to a high pitch and trailing off like a vanishing bird. As always, the song carries a question: Where are you?

The wolf with the coal-black coat like his sister’s has issued this call many times before, and each time it has been met only with silence. But now, after the last note fades away, there comes a faint howl in reply. His ears snap toward the source. The voice is that of a female wolf, so distant it is little more than a whisper, coming from somewhere out there.

Black Wolf notes the direction of the call. He howls again, loud and long, and again he hears an immediate response, stronger this time.

Without hesitation, he begins descending the mountain to find her.

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Blue jay screeches a fussy alarm as Big Gray paces through the woods. Having re-marked the boundaries of his pack’s territory, he is now returning to the den on a wide, well-travelled path. Though his senses are ever alert for prey, today the hunter travels with ease knowing that his family—and particularly the new pups—are well-fed.

Ease of mind, perhaps, if not of body. Various aches and pains are an intimate archive of every hunt he has engaged in, every time he has been gored, kicked, bitten or—as recently—stepped on by a 700-pound elk. But the big gray still moves well for a middle-aged wolf, his shadow a silent companion on the bare earth trail.

There are many kinds of passageways in the forest. Some are muddy tracks used regularly by the prey that rivet his attention. Some trails are little more than a scuffling of duff. Others are entirely invisible, made only of odors which linger for a time in the quiet air. Then there are paths like this one, obvious and unmissable, and clearly created by the upright creatures.

Such trails present risk but Big Gray has found they can be used on occasion with care. Though his injured foot is healing, this smoother path makes traveling more comfortable, so he takes advantage of it, with eyes and ears alertly forward and nose to the ground.

Blowing through the trees is a minor springtime storm, a wind-instrument symphony that rustles the new oak leaves and strums the thin branches of tall aspen. The wolf is absorbed in what his nose tells him, and he is satisfied there is no recent human scent embedded in the trail.

Which is why Big Gray is so surprised to round a bend in the path and find himself almost face-to-face with three of the upright creatures: an adult male, an adult female, and a much younger female, all standing not 50 feet away, staring at him with open mouths, like baby birds expecting to be fed.

It’s a riveting moment that will live forever in the memories of every beating heart present, broken only when the woman manages a throaty yelp, the girl laughs, and the man sputters, fumbling with his phone. For many years after, the man will show his photo of the empty trail where—he swears—a wolf had been standing only one second before.

But Big Gray is already gone. He is running through the woods, racing for its farthest darkest shadows. His ears point rearward to detect if he is being pursued but all he hears is the voice of the young female.

“Awesome!”

The wolf slows, stops, and he turns to look back. All is quiet. It seems he is safe now. He leaves his mark on a bush and resumes his journey.

He is headed back to his mate, the coal-black female, and their litter of new puppies; back to Little Wolf, Amber, and Green-Eyes; and back to Black Wolf, though he well knows that his mate’s brother will leave them soon to start a family of his own.

As for Big Gray, he does not have to “go home”. This forest has been home for hundreds of thousands of years. He has been home wherever he has roamed across this Colorado landscape.

He was home from the beginning, from the first moment he stepped out of that shadowy metal box and through its bright threshold into his future.

THE END

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Dear Readers,

This is the final episode of Colorado Wolf Stories.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading these tales about a family of gray wolves as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them.

When I wrote the first story, just over a year ago, I had no intention of beginning a series. I simply hoped that it might be accepted as a unique kind of “Opinion” column in my local newspaper.

I’d been inspired by the real-life restoration of wolves to Colorado, and tried to envision what the experience of that first day in their new world might have been like for a fictional wolf I dubbed the “Big Gray”.

Though the story was told with imagination, to keep it credible I did a good deal of reading about wolf behavior. I recalled the memorable experiences I’ve had hearing wolves in Minnesota and seeing wolves in Yellowstone National Park. It was also my privilege to know and speak with several people who are some of the top wolf experts in the country.

The writing of that first story went well, and when I shared the final draft with several wolf-advocate friends, they reacted with enthusiasm.

As the saying goes, one thing led to another, and thanks to the essential help of a particularly supportive colleague, the essay was picked up by the editorial content distributor, Writers on the Range, and became widely reprinted in newspapers across the West.

I was completely surprised and thrilled by that development, especially by the heartfelt feedback I received. People wrote to say how much they loved reading a positive story about wolves. Many simply said, “Thank you.”

Then there came encouragement to continue the tale. I initially balked at that suggestion because though I’m comfortable writing about natural history, I’d never seriously written any kind of fiction before. My first essay seemed to me a one-time swing for the fences where I got a lucky hit.

All my adult life, however, I’ve seen a need for a better understanding of wolves, one not defined by hateful cultural stereotypes, and limited by one-dimensional, conflict-focused appearances in the news. I knew there was so much more to these remarkable animals than what many people hear and read and believe. I wanted to show wolves’ extraordinary intelligence, emotional complexity, and devoted family relationships; living their lives as essential parts of an ecosystem they evolved to inhabit many thousands of years ago.

So I seized the opportunity and continued my research, plunging into the works of Rick McIntyre, Barry Lopez, and Dan Flores. I was particularly fortunate for the generous time and advice of biologists Norm Bishop, Matt Barnes, Karin Vardaman, and Carter Niemeyer. The support I received from friends, family, and wildlife-advocate colleagues has been uplifting. I am so grateful to so many.

Thus informed and encouraged, and fueled by a fairly obsessive period of creative inspiration, I was able to produce 18 additional short stories. While I stand behind everything I’ve written, any errors are entirely my own and not those of the experts I’ve cited.

For readers who feel I’ve been too generous in my depictions of the emotional and intellectual capacity of wolves, I invite you to read any of Rick McIntyre’s excellent books relating his personal wolf observations in Yellowstone. See what you think then.

There may come a day when I feel inspired to resume the story of Big Gray, Mother Wolf and their family, but for now it’s time to let them go, and let them go about their lives without my nosy observations.

I’ll end here by admitting to a measure of sadness about this closure. It’s been a remarkably enjoyable and deeply fulfilling creative ride. But I’m also howling with gratitude for you, dear reader, and with unfailing support for wolves, in Colorado and everywhere else Canis lupus calls home.

— Clint McKnight - Durango, Colorado - April, 2025