| The wolf packs on Isle Royale are thriving, but as individuals the predators remain elusive. Photo by Bob Guiliani
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The wolves of Isle Royale
Who is luckier? The hikers who make contact or those who do not?
by Vic Foerster
An island is a fragile environment where the resident wildlife reaches a tenuous balance with itself. That balance includes trying to cohabitate with the human fauna. The wolves set the tone on Lake Superior's Isle Royale. They are the only large predator and, if taken off the island, the place would practically become a
petting zoo. As it is, moose, fox, beaver, rabbit and anything else that can't fly is fair game for the wolves. They keep everybody on their toes.
However, in another sense, we keep the wolves at bay. While we're there, they seek the least inhabited portions of the island. But when we leave in the fall, I can't help but imagine them slinking out of the trees into the campgrounds to take advantage of the animals that grew soft over the summer.
Over the 25 years I've canoed and backpacked Isle Royale, I have been frustrated three times (that I know of) from fulfilling a long-held desire to see a wolf. Ken, my long-time canoeing partner, on the other hand, has twice seen a wolf while we hiked together. Each time the wily wolf fled before I could react fast enough to catch a glimpse.
One of those times, Ken was behind me on the trail as we were backpacking into Chippewa Harbor from
Lake Richie. He whispered loud enough for me to hear, "Vic, a wolf!" But in the split second it took me to lift my head from watching the ground at my feet, the wolf was gone. Ken said the animal was standing in the middle of the trail straight ahead of us. Only fresh tracks on the worn path proved to me it was really there.
The other time, Ken suddenly froze on the portage trail ahead of me. Without turning, he asked me to throw
him my camera. I tossed it up the slope we were climbing. He caught the camera, lifted it and snapped a picture, but by then, the wolf was already gone. I ran up behind him to see if I could at least catch a glimpse. All I caught was the sound of an animal running away through the trees.
My closest encounter was late at night while I was sleeping. This time I was alone at Chippewa Harbor. No
other hiking parties had come near my camp in three days. I, too, spent most of my time away fishing the lake, leaving the campground deserted and quiet.
I cleaned a fish earlier in the day, using the blade of a canoe paddle as a cutting board. I planned to spend the entire day fishing because I was down to just a couple of freeze-dried meals.
However, the wind had kicked up, driving me off the water early. It was too rough to take the fish guts
back out and dump them in the lake, so I carried the mess back into the woods and tossed it behind some brush at least 100 feet from the camp perimeter as recommended by the Park Service. Then I washed off the paddle.
In the middle of the night, I woke unexpectedly from the sound of that canoe paddle rattling against the shelter's screened front wall where I had leaned it. I could hear a snuffling and panting noise just outside.
My startled movement within my sleeping bag probably spooked what I suspected was a wolf because the paddle fell with a bang. I then heard a sound like dog nails scampering away on rock.
In the morning, I looked for tracks but didn't find any. The paddle lay on the ground. I believe a wolf smelled the fish guts I tossed away, ate them and then caught the scent of fish that remained on the paddle. I
hadn't seen any fox at Chippewa Harbor and they have padded feet. Nothing else on the island could make the sound of a dog's nails on rock. I'll never know for sure, but I'm convinced I had a wolf 2 feet from where I lay sleeping, with only a screen between us.
When I first hiked into Chippewa Harbor – on the same trail where Ken saw the wolf 18 years earlier – I saw some scat. I also heard wolves baying one night, which is a much quieter, low-key sound than the
heart-rending howls we hear in the movies.
Two days prior to my bedtime encounter, I felt like someone was watching me during a short day hike. I rarely feel uncomfortable in the wild, but my skin prickled for no apparent reason when I came down a path off the main trail going to a small inland lake. It was a weird enough feeling that I turned around and retreated the way I'd come.
Other campers have related similar experiences just prior to seeing wolves. They report a certain tension in the air. I believe some primitive sense in the human psyche comes alive when wolves approach.
On the return ride to the mainland on the last scheduled boat trip for the season on the Isle Royale Queen, I talked to a park ranger who was also leaving for the season. When I described what I felt, he gave me a curious look. He then described a similar experience.
The ranger had been hiking alone atop the Greenstone Ridge. The return trip to his cabin took longer than he'd expected. When it grew dark, he was still an hour from his camp.
The moon was full that night and the trail well lit. Walking along briskly, he heard and then saw a single wolf lope by, glancing at him as it went past. A few minutes later, it came back more slowly, and taking a longer look at the ranger. A bit later, the wolf made a third appearance, walking past him once again.
Some time later, the ranger happened upon Dr. Rolf O. Peterson who has led a 45-year examination of the wolves on the island. Upon hearing about the ranger's encounter with the curious wolf, Peterson said it was likely just the animal's inquisitive nature overtaking its cautious instinct.
Only as an afterthought did the ranger mention his meeting with the wolf had occurred at night. Hearing this,
Peterson looked hard at him and said, "Oh, that's completely different. At night, you're on their turf. If you read any history of the frontier days, there are several believable accounts of wolves becoming aggressive after dark."
As the ranger relayed this conversation to me, a shudder ran through me. "I should feel a little scared out here then," I reminded myself.
Wolves have thrived, researchers say
Standing isolated within the largest freshwater lake on the planet, Isle Royale National Park boasts some of the cleanest air and water in the world. Because of its unique location and the absence of any motorized vehicles and industry, Isle Royale was designated an International Biosphere Reserve in 1981.
The water and air has become the control portion for environmental quality experiments in North America.
The island is one of the world's foremost outdoor laboratories as well as a destination spot for those of us who seek an environment far removed from our urban haunts.
In this environment, Peterson, until his recent retirement, directed one of the most famous wolf research projects. He led a 45-year examination of the wolves on the island – the longest continual study of any wild mammal, according to Peterson's book A Broken Balance. Each year, he diligently observed and
documented wolf health, populations, behavior and their interactions with moose. His work is world renown amongst wildlife researchers.
At a presentation I attended, Peterson said wolves are very affectionate and protective – within their own families and packs, that is. They are also extremely territorial. He said as many wolves die from fights amongst themselves as from the elements or disease.
During a winter surveillance flight over the island, Peterson once spotted several wolves chasing a single wolf along the shoreline. A fight ensued and to escape – the pursued wolf overcame its fear of the water and swam out into the frigid bay.
The pack of chasers paced up and down the shore for a long while but eventually moved on, apparently satisfied they had driven the rival wolf away for good.
The pilot circled overhead until he had to leave to refuel. The lone wolf was last seen floundering in the lake.
On a return trip, Peterson and his fellow researchers discovered the wolf had made it back to shore. Through their binoculars, she could be seen lying in the snow barely moving. They feared she wouldn't survive.
Because the scientists observe a strict policy of nonintervention, they didn't try to help her. When they came
back the following day, the wolf remained on the shore and appeared to be dead. Peterson's crew made plans to land in the bay to do a postmortem analysis the next day.
But upon returning, Peterson said he witnessed something he'd never seen before. A second wolf, evidently unattached to a pack, had appeared. Lying alongside the wolf presumed dead, the new arrival was licking and nudging his fellow wolf. After several days of this, the first wolf was nursed back to health.
After witnessing this amazing behavior, Peterson said he feared the pack would return to kill the two wolves. That would prove to be a blow to the wolf population, which already had been declining for several years as a result of too much inbreeding in the closed ecosystem of the island. The loss of one, let alone two wolves, would hurt.
But the pack stayed away, allowing the female time to recover. One day, the closely monitoring researchers
lost sight of both wolves. But Peterson said he doesn't doubt that from that coupling came a third pack, called the Chippewa Harbor Pack, which helped turn the tide for the wolf population.
In 1980, 50 wolves lived on Isle Royale. By 1995, their numbers had plummeted to an all-time low of 16. As of 2005, there are over 30 wolves in three well-established packs.
Peterson has written that wolf sightings by Isle Royale visitors have increased more than threefold over the
past 40 years. Fortunately, he noted, "The wolves have remained fearful of people, even after 50 years of total protection."
Humans should remain wary, too. Over the past decade, wolves elsewhere in North America – namely in national parks in Canada – have injured people. "It was once common for wolf advocates to claim that wild wolves pose no threat to humans," Peterson wrote.
So while my chances of seeing one of the Isle Royale wolves have improved, I may be worse off if that
encounter were to happen because I haven't tread lightly in their territory.
Vic Foerster works as a commercial arborist and is chairman for the Michigan Urban and Community Forestry Advisory Council. He has been exploring Isle Royale National Park for 25 years. A version of this article will appear in the forthcoming book The Isle Royale Stories.
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