Wild beasts

by J. Hampden Porter

It is the common or gray wolf—the only one known in Scandinavia, although at one time Nilsson attempted to erect its black variety, Canis lycaon, into a species—which those authors referred to speak of when deploring this creature’s destructiveness. Lloyd thinks that it cannot be extirpated from the mountain and forest regions of Sweden and Norway. The animal is prolific. A female, after ten weeks’ gestation, brings forth from four to six, and even nine cubs. They are born in burrows, inherit great constitutional vigor, and are well tended upon the part of their parents. Whatever else may be denied the wolf, some praise for domestic virtues cannot in fairness be withheld from him. He hunts diligently and disinterestedly for the support of his mate and young, and when these (which are at first nearly black and look like foxes, except that they have not a white tip to their tails) are able to travel, both parents carefully supervise their education. Various diseases are prevalent among wolves, and many die of sickness; but if it be true that hydrophobia is unknown among those of North-western Europe, their exemption from a disorder which afflicts this species in all cold, and even temperate climates elsewhere, must be looked upon as an unexplained fact. During the rigorous and prolonged winters of high latitudes large numbers starve to death. Men shoot, trap, and poison them at every opportunity; they often kill one another, and when the ice breaks up in the greater inlets of the north Atlantic and Baltic, multitudes of wolves that have been hunting the young of seals upon their frozen surfaces perish.

Buffon seems to have furnished the wolf’s character ready made for use by subsequent writers, since these appear to have done little more than copy or comment upon his text. “Il est naturellement grossier et poltron,” he says, “mais il devient ingénieux par besoin, et hardi par necessité; pressé par la famine, il brave le danger”—that is, it will come out of the depths of forests, and attack domestic animals. “Enfin, lorsque le besoin est extrême, il s’expose à tout, attaque les femmes et les enfans, se jette même quelquefois sur les hommes; devient furieux par ces excés, qui finissent ordinairement par la rage et la mort.”

Now if one reads, not all, for that would be impossible, but a great many accounts of actual observations upon wolves, and has at the same time some personal knowledge of these brutes, the foregoing will prove to be unsatisfactory. When special traits, and especially those of courage and enterprise, are examined in books, flat contradictions begin to appear. Colonel Dodge (“Plains of the Great West”) maintains that the gray wolf of America is an arrant coward. Ross Cox (“Adventures on the Columbia River”) asserts that he is “very large and daring.” Nobody has ever denied that wolves are formidable creatures which can be dangerous if they choose; what their annalists have done is to proceed upon the assumption that they are exactly alike everywhere, and give the general disposition and character of an entire race from a few scattered specimens seen by themselves in some particular localities. Under any circumstances it would be useless to discuss the wolf’s courage without having previously settled what courage in a wolf is, and how it displays itself. Principle and sentiment have nothing to do with it; appetite and passion are its sole incentives. To compare it, then, with that of some savage warrior in whom a certain standard of action always exists, is unallowable. Yet this is continually done, not openly and avowedly perhaps, but evidently in effect.

Audubon (“Quadrupeds of North America”) saw wolf-traps in Kentucky. “Each pit was covered with a revolving platform of interlaced boughs and twigs, and attached to a cross-piece of timber that served for an axle. On this light platform, which was balanced by a heavy stick of wood fastened to the under side, a large piece of putrid venison was tied for a bait.” Visiting one of these pits in the morning, with its constructor and his dogs, three wolves, “two black and one brindled,” were found to have been caught. “They were lying flat on the earth, with their ears close down to their heads, and their eyes indicating fear more than anger.” It is said by Felix Oswald, (“Zoölogical Sketches”) that pitfalls always cow animals. At all events, in this case, the farmer, axe and knife in hand, descended and hamstrung them. Audubon stood above with a gun and the dogs, to whom these helpless creatures were thrown to be worried. None of the captives made any resistance worth mentioning because they were such cowards! If a lion of the Atlas, however, comes ramping down upon an Arab douar, leaps over the fence of a cattle-pen, and finds himself at the bottom of a trench, he meets death with the same resignation. But that is on account of the dignity of his character. No mortal knows what either animal thinks or feels, and, since there is no difference between their demeanors, it would be quite as easy to make the death scene of the wolf poetic, and probably fully as much in accordance with the truth.

What has been said of fortitude applies equally to other qualities. It seems reasonable to allow wolves some part in deciding what enterprises they shall undertake, which way an attack ought to be made, and whether the risk of any adventure is likely to overbalance its advantages. They are very well acquainted with the business which it falls to their lot in life to transact, and since the days have gone when Greek lycanthropes, German währ-wolves, and French loupgarous appeared among mankind, not anybody is able to put himself in this animal’s place so completely as to appreciate those motives by which it is actuated.

Wolves differ with their geographical position, with the peoples that come in contact with them, and in virtue of individual peculiarities. What has been done by them anywhere, might undoubtedly occur again if the conditions remained unaltered. Dr. Henry Lansdell (“Russian Central Asia”) knew of Tartars on the steppes who rode down the wolf and beat it to death with their heavy whips. He likewise learned that shepherds in the Caucasus protected their flocks by means of dogs. Yet his native attendants, as he reports with some surprise, actually allowed themselves to become alarmed at the threatened attack of a pack on the road from Kabakli to Petro-Alexandrovsk.

T. W. Atkinson’s views (“Oriental and Western Siberia”) were not so decided, and his experiences in these latitudes had been different. He saw plenty of wolves in the valley of the Ouba, and they had followed his party on the plains of Mongolia. Cossacks assured him (“Travels in the Region of the Amoor”) that travellers upon the steppe were often devoured, and bands of these grim beasts frequently gathered about his camp by night. On one occasion while hunting he observed a fine maral—the large stag of high altitudes in the Ac-tan, Ale-tan, and Mus-tan regions—run into by three of these brutes. “The ravenous beasts were tearing the noble creature to pieces while yet breathing,” when two bearcoots—black Tartar eagles—sailed over the spot, and one swooped. “The wolves caught sight of them in an instant ... and stood on their defence.... In a few seconds the first bearcoot struck his prey; one talon was fixed on his back, the other on the upper part of his neck, completely securing the head, while he tore out the liver with his beak. The other eagle seized another wolf, and shortly both were as lifeless as the animal they had hunted.”

This explorer, however, so far departed from the rule in such cases made and provided, that he did not immediately generalize the character of all the wolves in Asia from his observations of those two that permitted themselves to be killed by a pair of birds. On the contrary, when a pack followed his party in Mongolia, he was prepared to look upon it as a serious matter. They were in camp, the weather was mild, game abounded, and it was a beautiful night. “Before long we could hear their feet beat upon the ground as they galloped towards us. In a very short while the troop came up and gave a savage howl. The men now placed some dry bushes on the fire (which had been allowed to sink by the Kalmucks and Kalkas, lest its light should attract robbers), and blew it up into a bright flame which sent its red glare far beyond us, disclosing the wolves, their ears and tails erect, and their eyes flashing fire. At this instant I gave the signal, and our volley was poured in with deadly effect, for the horrible howling they set up showed what mischief had been done. We did not move to collect our game—that might be done in the morning. Our pieces were reloaded as fast as possible, for the Kalmucks warned us that the wolves would return. We could hear them snarling, and some of the wounded howling, but they were too far away to risk a shot. The fire was let down, and we remained perfectly quiet.

“We were not long left in ignorance of their intentions. Shortly there was a great commotion among our horses, and we discovered that the pack had divided and were stealing up to our animals on each side, between us and the water. The Kalkas and Kalmucks rushed up to our steeds, uttering loud shouts, and this drove the wolves back again. It was now necessary to guard the horses on three sides, as we could hear the savage brutes quite near. The men anticipated that they would make a rush, cause the animals to break away, and then hunt them down. A Cossack and Kalmuck turned to guard the approaches on each side, and I remained watching at the front. The fire was relighted and kept in a constant blaze by Kalkas adding small bushes, and this enabled us to see as well as hear our savage enemies. Presently I discovered their glaring eyeballs moving to and fro, nearer and nearer; then I could distinguish their grizzly forms pushing each other on. At this moment the rifles cracked to my right, and the fire sent up a bright blaze, which enabled me to make sure of one fellow as he turned his side towards me. I sent the second ball into the pack, and more than one must have been wounded from the howling that came from this direction. The other men had also fired, and I did not doubt with equal effect, for it was certain that they would not throw a shot away. In a few minutes the growling ceased, and all was still except the snorting of some of the horses. Both Kalkas and Kalmucks assured me that the wolves would make another attack, and said that no one must sleep on his post.

“To increase our difficulty, we now had but few bushes left, and none could be obtained near us; therefore it would only be by a most vigilant watch that we could now save our horses. The night, too, became very dark, and nothing could be seen at a short distance except towards the lake, where any dark object might be observed against the dim light that rested on the water. Sharp and keen eyes were peering out in every direction, but no wolf was seen, nor sound heard. The Kalkas said the wolves were waiting till all was still, and then they would make a dash at the horses.