The lives of animal groups can be as full of intrigue, drama, and machinations as any novel or movie starring humans. But revealing this requires extraordinary perseverance. Following their reintroduction to Yellowstone National Park, no other wolves in the world have been more closely monitored. And of all the people involved, nobody has spent more time in the field watching them than biological technician and park ranger Rick McIntyre. Amongst wolf aficionados, wolf 21—for the wolves are identified by a number—was one the most famous. But before 21, there was wolf 8, and this is his story.
The Rise of Wolf 8: Witnessing the Triumph of Yellowstone’s Underdog, written by Rick McIntyre, published by Greystone Books in October 2019 (hardback, 297 pages)
McIntyre has been involved with the Yellowstone Gray Wolf Restoration Project from the beginning in 1995. He has worked as wolf interpreter, initially part of the year and later year-round, giving talks to visitors and helping them spot wolves in the field. The Rise of Wolf 8 is the first in a trilogy* to tell the life stories of some of the park’s notable alpha** wolves. Now, before we turn to the wolves, a word about “perseverance”, for revealing their stories in this level of detail would not have been possible without it. In the afterword, project leader Douglas W. Smith puts some numbers on it: 25 years, including 6,175 consecutive (!) days in the field from 2000 to 2015; over 100,000 wolf sightings when this book went to print; 12,000 pages of notebooks filled with observations. McIntyre has dedicated himself to this project with a passion that borders on the obsessive.
The result is an unprecedented chronicle of several generations of wolves. The first pack to arrive from Canada became known as the Crystal Creek Pack, encompassing an alpha male and female with their four male pups, one of which was 8. Initially the runt of the litter being picked on by his brothers, he soon reveals himself to be fearless when McIntyre witnesses him single-handedly facing off against a grizzly bear when the pups steal its catch. From here on outwards it becomes clear he has the makings of a very successful wolf.
When the alpha male of the second introduced pack, the Rose Creek Pack, is illegally killed, wolf 8 is accepted by the alpha female as the new alpha male and adopts her children, which includes wolf 21. A third pack, the Druid Peak Pack, is introduced in 1996 and from here on the web of players around 8 increases sharply. When both Druid males are illegally shot, 21 leaves his pack and joins the Druids as their new alpha male. Though 21 seems smitten with one of the three Druid females, 42, the pack’s alpha female, 40, is a tyrannical ruler who is no stranger to killing rival wolves or preventing her sisters from breeding. 21’s story is told in the second book of the trilogy, The Reign of Wolf 21, but the relationship between 8 and 21, and what the adopted son seems to have learned from his stepfather, is notable. The inevitable showdown between the two packs at the end of the book is nothing short of hair-raising.
These three packs go on to have several generations of pups, and other packs also come into existence as some yearlings set out on their own. The tangle of place names and numbered wolves, combined with McIntyre’s numerous descriptions of episodes of wolves interacting, meant that the book did start to wear on me a bit midway through as I tried to keep track of who was doing what, where, and with whom or to whom. The book opens with a map and three partial family trees, and I found myself referring to these frequently. Still, I feel this book could have benefited from some more infographics, drawings, or photos with each chapter (McIntyre’s colleagues have collected family tree data and made it publicly available). The plate section only shows wolf 8 in two group photos taken from some distance, one in which he is partially behind a tree. I am not even sure that the jacket, credited as “photograph of a gray wolf by Jim Cumming”, shows wolf 8. Early on, McIntyre mentions having stopped taking cameras into the field to focus solely on observations with a spotting scope.
Despite the somewhat repetitive writing, what McIntyre reveals here, both from the viewpoint of intergenerational dynasties and of individual wolf personalities, is remarkable. His behavioural descriptions are mostly factual, describing sequences as he observed them, but he does not shy away from interpreting them and clearly indicates where he does so. This involves both attributing emotional states to behaviours and showing that wolves have awareness of certain situations, states of mind, and foresight. Personally, I do not think this crosses over into anthropomorphising wolves. Biologists such as Frans de Waal and Carl Safina, whose book Beyond Words first put me on the track of McIntyre’s work, have hardened my conviction that animals have both intelligence and personalities. McIntyre is the living embodiment of Safina’s admonishment that students of behaviour should get out more and observe animals in the field, and I doubt that there is anyone better positioned to make these interpretations. Many of the unique observations recorded here are invaluable to ethologists, and McIntyre has been a source of unpublished data and personal communications to other wolf researchers (e.g. for Mech et al.‘s books Wolves and Wolves on the Hunt). That said, McIntyre mostly provides anecdotes here and only occasionally links it to some of the other wolf research done in the park.
Fact is, I will likely never visit Yellowstone National Park to see the wolves there for myself. But this book, and the many intimate moments McIntyre describes, allow me to vicariously experience observing them through a spotting scope with an experienced interpreter by my side. The Rise of Wolf 8 is a unique and epic chronicle by the world’s most dedicated wolf-watcher and comes highly recommend if you have any interest in wolves and their behaviour. I am very much looking forward to finding out how the story continues.
* About six months after this review was published, Greystone Books revealed the final instalment in this trilogy: The Redemption of Wolf 302
** (26/01/2023) Several readers on Reddit pointed out that the term “alpha wolf” has fallen out of favour. Wolf biologist Dave Mech, who initially helped spread the term, has publicly disavowed it and expressed frustration with how it continues to linger. Despite McIntyre having met Mech on several occasions, he continues to liberally use this term.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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]]>Recognising that animals are intelligent beings with inner lives, emotions—even personalities—has a troubled place in the history of ethology, the study of animal behaviour. For most pet owners, these things will seem self-evident, but ethologists have long been hostile to the idea of anthropomorphising animals by attributing human characteristics to them. The tide is turning, though, and on the back of decades-long careers, scientists such as Frans de Waal, Marc Bekoff, and Carl Safina have become well-known public voices breaking down this outdated taboo. In preparation of reviewing Safina’s new book Becoming Wild, I decided I should first read his bestseller Beyond Words. I have to issue an apology here: courtesy of the publisher Henry Holt I have had a review copy of this book for several years that gathered dust until now. And that was entirely my loss, as Beyond Words turned out to be a beautiful, moving book.
Beyond Words: What Animals Think and Feel, written by Carl Safina, published in Europe by Souvenir Press in September 2016 (hardback, 480 pages)
A plain summary of this book could run something like this: a large book in four parts in which ecologist Carl Safina delves into the inner worlds of elephants, wolves, and orcas, with frequent comparisons to other animals. This is based on interviews with biologists, time spent with them in the field observing their study animals, and close reading of both the books they wrote and the primary scientific literature. In Africa, he speaks to Iain Douglas-Hamilton and Amboseli Elephant Research Project leader Cynthia Moss. In Yellowstone National Park he spends time with long-term wolf-watchers Laurie Lyman, Doug McLaughlin, and Rick McIntyre. The latter has since started chronicling the lives of Yellowstone’s alpha wolves in a yet-to-be-completed trilogy. And on the Pacific coast between the USA and Canada he accompanies Ken Balcomb who has dedicated his life to observing orcas, while listening closely to Erich Hoyt, Alexandra Morton, Denise Herzing, and Diana Reiss.
This summary would tell you of the long-term studies and numerous observations that have revealed so much. How elephants in a herd defer to the leadership of a matriarch, who is a walking memory bank of valuable knowledge on e.g. the location of food and water holes in times of famine and drought. How they show empathy by caring for their wounded and sick, even grieving their dead, paying close attention to bones long after the death of their owner. How they communicate, using infrasound to cover long distances, and how the slaughter for ivory causes life-long havoc by destroying family structures.
The wolves reintroduced to Yellowstone National Park have revealed how the different alpha males and females have their own personalities, some ruling their pack calmly, others tyrannically. These are clever carnivores who outsmart competitors threatening their pups, and cooperate in a complex fashion to bring down large prey. Here, too, human hunters killing wolves causes collateral damage that reverberates down the social hierarchy, breaking up and reshuffling packs, often costing more lives.
And killer whales? These highly social and long-lived marine mammals live in pods that, like other cetaceans, show what can only be called culture. Such as their exceptional dietary specialisation that is taught to youngsters. These echo-locating predators show refined, cooperative hunting techniques and are intensely social, mothers contributing to the survival of their children and grandchildren well after menopause. Just as elephants and wolves, they recognize other individuals after prolonged periods of separation (and show it too). As told elsewhere, we learned much of this the hard way by catching killer whales for display in marine theme parks. Suffice to say that breaking up families and isolating individuals in small pools has turned out to be extremely traumatising.
But this way of reviewing the book would neglect much of what makes it such an exceptional read. And I am not talking about all the other intelligent beings populating these pages: the primates, dogs, dolphins, and birds.
Take the much-needed history lesson of why scientists have been so shy to grant animals a measure of agency and intelligence: the mere mention of it could kill your academic career. In Mama’s Last Hug, Frans de Waal called this resistance to anthropomorphising “anthropodenial”. Safina agrees that we have taken it to the other extreme: “Not assuming that other animals have thoughts and feelings was a good start for a new science. Insisting they did not was bad science” (p. 27). Notably, though, where De Waal makes a careful distinction between emotions and feelings, Safina uses these two words interchangeably.
Or what of the gentle skewering of academic concepts such as “theory of mind”, the realisation that others have their own motivations and desires? Those who continue to deny animals this should get out more, for they show “that many humans lack a theory of mind for non-humans” (p. 253). In Safina’s hands, the mirror mark test, that supposed litmus test of self-awareness, looks daft. Animals failing to recognize their own reflection only show that they do not understand reflection, without it, well, reflecting on self-awareness. In the wild, both self-awareness and gauging another’s state of mind are often a matter of life or death.
Probably one of the most convincing threads that runs through this book, and to which Safina returns frequently, is that of evolutionary legacy. Consciousness, emotion—the mental traits that we long thought as uniquely human—have deep roots. Peel back the skin and underneath we find similarities everywhere: the same neurological circuits, the same hormones, the same physiological pathways. And why would we expect anything else? We know that evolution excels at reusing, repurposing, and rejiggling existing structures and processes.
So, he happily goes against the grain and speculates about animals’ mental experience in this book, though always with one eye on evidence, logic, and science. (He helpfully bundles up the more unbelievable ones on cetaceans in a chapter called “Woo-Woo”.) To really see animals not for what, but for who they are, observations outside of the artificial environments of laboratories and captive enclosures are vital. Consequently, as Safina admits, much of what he relates here is anecdotal. As many sceptical scientists, myself included, like to say: “the plural of anecdote is not data”. But the bin in his mind labelled “unlikely stories” is getting cluttered. Anecdotes can only keep piling up for so long before you can no longer ignore them.
Finally, this book would not have the impact it has had if it was not for the writing. It is easy to see why Safina’s oeuvre has garnered literary awards. His many, short chapters are threaded together suspensefully. His wordplay sometimes borders on brilliant: when observing our shared evolutionary history and legacy: “beneath the skin, kin” (p. 324); when pondering our endless cruelty towards animals: “the next step beyond human civilization: humane civilization” (p. 411). And if the many stories do not already move you, I will leave you with a quote that choked me up, where he makes the point that the study of animal behaviour is not a mere “boutique endeavour”:
“Anyone can read about how much we are losing. All the animals that human parents paint on nursery room walls, all the creatures depicted in paintings of Noah’s ark, are actually in mortal trouble now. Their flood is us. What I’ve tried to show is how other animals experience the lives they so energetically and so determinedly cling to. I wanted to know who these creatures are. Now we may feel, beneath our ribs, why they must live.” (p. 411)
Beyond Words is a heartfelt gem of a book. Whether you are fascinated by the lives of charismatic megafauna such as elephants, wolves, or killer whales, or have an interest in animal behaviour, pick up this book. It is never too late to read a bestseller that you have ignored so far.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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