4 April 2005Blaine Harden
Lying alone and listless on a snow-covered ridge, the large male wolf appeared injured, probably from a trap. Blood stained the snow near his front paws.
Circling above in a single-engine airplane, wildlife biologist Gordon Haber found it difficult to maintain his composure. For nearly 40 years, he has been observing a family of wolves, whose current leader was the lethargic alpha male down below him in the snow.
That family, which lives in Denali National Park and is often described as the longest-studied, most-photographed group of wolves in the world, is now at risk. In the past two months, trappers operating just outside the park's northeastern border have picked off two senior females in the 11-member group. For weeks, the alpha male and his new mate have been separated from each other and from six younger members of the pack.
"It's so senseless," Haber shouted over the aircraft noise. "I'm not sure what is worse: the animals being killed or all the so-called experts allowing it to happen."
The demise of this family of wolves, known to tens of thousands of park visitors as the Toklat group, would end a unique stream of longitudinal research. For nearly six decades, Haber and other scientists have chronicled the hunting techniques, mating habits and social interdependence of generations of a geographically stable group of wolves.
At the urging of wildlife preservation and animal rights groups in the lower 48, three Democratic senators -- Frank Lautenberg (N.J.), Carl M. Levin (Mich.) and Barbara Boxer (Calif.) -- wrote last Monday to Interior Secretary Gale A. Norton, citing a "biological emergency" and imploring her to take immediate steps to save the Toklat family.
"These wolves are a national treasure and are of inestimable value to scientists and thousands of park visitors each year," they wrote. Norton has not responded, a department spokesman said.
The Toklat wolves have become relatively easy targets for trappers, said Thomas Meier, a wildlife biologist for the National Park Service at Denali.
"Frankly, these wolves aren't as wary of humans as the average wolf," he said. "Trappers usually catch young wolves, stupid wolves, but that is not the case here. They are catching mature animals habituated to people."
In February, Haber, whose work is funded by an animal rights group and whose views often annoy state and federal wildlife experts, asked the Alaska Board of Game to stop wolf trapping in a narrow wedge of state land that juts into the national park's northeastern corner. That is where the Toklat wolves, wandering out of the park in search of caribou, have been caught in traps in recent months.
But the board, which several years ago did create a small no-trap buffer in that area, has refused to expand it.
"We don't manage wolves for their safety and livelihood and whatnot," said Mike Fleagle, the board's chairman. "We feel that wolves shouldn't be treated individually. Sure, wolves are complex, and sure, they have a pretty interesting social structure, but the bottom line is Alaska is crawling with wolves. We manage for population."
That population is thriving, with about 7,000 to 10,000 wolves in the state. Matt Robus, director of wildlife conservation for the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, said wolf numbers in Alaska are as robust as they have ever been.