Wolves & Sled Dogs in the Barrenlands
It was May 5th at the sixty-fourth parallel, about two hundred miles south
of Bathhurst Inlet. We were four days above the tree line, six days north
of the homestead. These were the barrenlands of Canada's Northwest Territories,
in true arctic conditions, and we were traveling north.
We camped out in the open that night. The wind was light and we tethered
our thirty dogs between two boulders on a bed of lush lichen. We fed the
dogs, ate our supper and prepared for bed. Nights are short in the arctic
spring; near midnight, the sun shone pink all around and purple in the
shadows. By 2:00 a.m., the light had returned.
Then we heard them! To our east, about a mile away across the bay a
pack of wolves howled. Our dogs howled back. The wolves howled again, this
time in response. The dogs howled; the wolves answered once more. It was
eerie. We were out in the open and exposed but I knew these wolves couldn't
enter our camp without plenty of warning from our dogs. I put out the candle
and was still fumbling with the zipper on my sleeping bag when the dogs
began their ruckus. Closest to the door, Chris unzipped the tent flap for
a look outside. "Six, seven, eight...." he counted. "They're all around
us and coming right in."
Into a southerly wind, they were coming straight out of the north at a
full lope, in single file. When they saw Chris, the wolves fanned out into
a line about seventy yards across and faced us. Ninety feet away in the
center of this line-up stood a tall, handsome black wolf. Four pure white
wolves flanked him on either side, nine altogether. For a significant period
of time, probably thirty seconds, this black wolf and I stared into each
other's eyes. My presence had stopped him; now I wished he would come closer.
I felt privileged to be in his presence. The hair was up on the necks of
every one of our dogs; they were scared. The flanking wolves became increasingly
nervous, their ears flattened and their tails tucked more tightly beneath
them. The lead wolf stood his ground. In the pink light of the arctic early
dawn, the scene was surreal, other worldly. Intelligence, perception and
courage were clearly evident in an animal that belonged here. This was
not human habitat- we were guests here in the land of this large black
wolf. While he had probably never seen a human before, this intelligent
animal was learning fast. Strong, confident and aggressive he did not leave
in fear, he just decided to go.
The next morning he led his pack by us for one more look. He stayed
out on the lake, heading toward Musk Ox Island.
Arleigh Jorgenson |
