It’s mating season for wolves in
Yellowstone, and the alpha male of the Druid Peak pack sits alone
on a snowy ridge, howling mournfully. His mate, whose only name was
the number 42, is dead. One of Yellowstone’s oldest wolves at
eight, 42 was killed by a rival pack the previous night.
She was also known as the “Cinderella wolf,” because of her
overnight transformation from submissive female to dominant female,
and she was featured in two National Geographic TV specials. She
was one of the original 31 Canadian wolves transplanted to
Yellowstone to kick off the wolf restoration effort in the Northern
Rockies. Much of the park’s spectacular wolf recovery can be
attributed to her breeding success: At least three of her daughters
have gone on to form their own packs. And not only was she the
alpha female of the largest wolf pack ever recorded — the
Druid pack numbered 37 wolves in 2000 — but she also
contributed mightily to our knowledge of wolf behavior and pack
dynamics.
Wolf-watchers loved her. Her beautiful charcoal
coat and underdog role endeared her to thousands of visitors to
Yellowstone. In her celebrity status, she even made it onto a
personalized license plate, WOLF 42F. When wolf biologist Rick
McIntyre announced her death recently to a small crowd of wolf
enthusiasts in the park, sobs broke out.
Her life was
nothing if not dramatic. For her first four years in Yellowstone,
42 suffered under the ruthless domination of her sister, 40, the
alpha female at the time, and an especially aggressive wolf. Forty
had ousted her own mother as leader and then lost no opportunity to
beat up on her sisters, 41 and 42, and their offspring.
Forty-one soon tired of the floggings and left the pack, while 42
stuck it out. Perhaps her bond with 21, the alpha male, enabled her
to endure her sister’s assaults. Then in 1999, 21 mated with
both 40 and 42, the latter going off to den by herself. One day 40
came over and gave her sister a thrashing, perhaps even killing her
pups. The next year, after 42 again mated with 21, she chose a den
site far from her sister’s. But when her pups were almost
weaned, 40 again came to visit.
Doug Smith, the Wolf
Project biologist for Yellowstone, says, “None of the other wolves
liked 40 so they would hang out with 42 instead. In fact, the only
wolf to visit 40’s den was 21.” When the aggressive 40 threatened
her sister again, Smith said, “This time 42 said, ‘forget
it’ and attacked 40, defending her pups. At least two other
wolves joined in and left 40 a bloody mess.”
The next day
42 moved her pups clear across the Lamar Valley, took over 40’s den
and raised her sister’s pups along with her own. She quickly
assumed the alpha role, which she held until her untimely death
this winter.
Upon examining her carcass, Doug Smith
marveled at her excellent condition for an eight-year-old wolf.
“None of her canines were broken. I don’t think I’ve
ever seen a wolf older than five that didn’t have canines
broken from trying to bring down running prey.”
Smith
regarded 42 as an excellent hunter, but in her later years she let
the younger wolves do much of the initial chasing and hunting,
assuming a supervisory role. On one particular hunt, he noticed
that she led the pack to a herd of elk, and as the wolves fanned
out across the hillside, she went up to each wolf as if whispering
instructions. She even seemed to reposition several of the wolves
to more strategic locations.
Forty-two was the
quintessential mother. She’d put unruly adolescents in their
place and she raised her daughters’ young as well as her own.
The year she took over as alpha female, the Druid pack successfully
reared 20 out of 21 pups born.
In the past few years, 21
and 42 were nearly inseparable. They cut a distinctive picture as
they led their offspring through the Lamar Valley — 21, a
large, bulky male, part black, part gray, usually trailing the
lithe and darker 42.
After 42 died, 21 spent two days off
by himself, howling. Seasoned observers reported it was more
howling than they had ever heard the wolf do in his entire life.
“Do wolves mourn?” I asked Smith.
“I’ll
leave that up to you,” he replied.
Greg Gordon
is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a service of High Country
News (hcn.org). He writes in Gardiner,
Montana.
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