Being stalked by a pack of hungry wolves is a kick, until reality sinks in that is. As I prepare for another fall of hunting I’m thinking back to last year’s encounter with a pack of grey wolves in Ontario. Enjoying the outdoors here in Vermont is pretty safe where wild animals are concerned. When we arrived in Ontario last year and the locals started right in telling us about aggressive wolf behavior I figured it was just their way of having a little good hearted fun at our expense.
One of the great things about hunting outside your home state is the opportunity to see not only new country but also new plant and animal species as well. As we made our way out into the Canadian bush we discovered wolf sign, tracks and scat. Some of the other hunters in camp had experienced brief wolf sightings and others, who had hunted for years in Canada, had never actually seen a wolf.
During the second week of our hunt my husband Randy and I were sitting in the truck waiting for day light, listening to wolves howl in the not too distant breaking dawn. We were wowed by their volume and their close proximity when a deer abruptly dashed across the road in front of us. We had had a fresh dusting of snow during the night and I volunteered to hunt alone and let Randy take the fresh deer track. I headed in the opposite direction, and planning to make contact later in the day.
Randy went off and killed a nice buck and was excited about finding great deer sign. We rendezvoused around 2:30ish and headed into some thick swamp in search of a buck for me. Visibility was limited to say the least. We went to where he had gutted his buck less than three hours before and found the only evidence of the gut pile was a rather large blood stain on the fresh snow - cleaned up by martins, Canada jay, ravens and wolves. In fact the sign I noted changed from promising deer sign to a tremendous number of fresh wolf tracks and a total of eight beds melted out of the snow.
We set up to do a little calling with a doe can and a grunt tube. Shortly, I noticed a set of very large legs moving through the underbrush to my hard left and I was sure it was a 200 lb buck coming into our calls. When the beast broke out into a clearing straight in front of us, at about 40 yards, we were surprised to see a large blonde colored wolf. She (my gut just tells me “she”, I have no evidence) continued around to our right into some thick hemlock, where I could hear her moving around on the dry leaves that the fresh snow barely covered. Randy was not carrying a firearm. Although legally he was entitled to he was recovering from an accident that left him with a shattered clavicle, five broken ribs and five broken lumbar vertebrae just eight weeks earlier. (Yes, he’s a tough guy). We were in awe. Having a chance to see a wolf so close seemed pretty special until……
A second grey wolf followed her course and joined the first wolf in the hemlocks. Rustle, rustle, rustle, they were totally hatching a plan for the juicy Vermonters that they undoubtedly could see, hear and smell. Randy, sitting to my right and just behind me counted a third wolf on my left. The wolves had traveled at the very least 180 degrees around us. I was still thinking how really cool this all was however, Randy and perhaps for the lack of a firearm, didn’t find the scenario quite so benign.
The final straw was when the blond she-wolf placed herself strategically out in front of us, where we had fully seen her the first time. She stood their, looking at us and we sat there, looking back. From the corner of my eye I caught a movement to my right in time to see the large grey wolf closing ground at 30 yards. The wolf’s eyes looking directly into mine, it still felt like a thrill!
Randy said aloud, “Now that’s too close” From my seated posture I made a lunging motion toward the closest wolf coupled with a hissing sound and it ducked back into cover. It was getting late and we agreed that this wasn’t the place to kill a buck so we packed up. Randy cautiously watched our back trail as we made our way to a new location in the direction of our truck. Attempting one more set-up before we called it a day only brought more sounds of wolves rustling in around us - we called it a day.
I was under the impression that there were no documented accounts of humans being attacked by wolves…..I was mistaken.
On November 8, 2005, student Kenton Carnegie was working with a survey company in northern Saskatchewan. Kenton went out for an afternoon walk and never returned. Royal Canadian Mounted Police spokeswoman Heather Russell said, “There is nothing to lead us to believe that death was caused by anything other than injuries consistent with canine bites. There were wolves near the body and wolf tracks all around….” “The death of Kenton Carnegie” CBC News Online, March 7, 2006
I’m leaving out the details of Kenton’s story. It took months for that experience to fully impact me. Wolves generally evaporate into the bush. Sightings are rare and special experiences but occasionally we the hunters become the hunted. It’s has given much to think about, especially as I consider my choice of firearm for this season. Flintlock or 35 Whelan…….
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