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magazine / nd01
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November/December 2001 issue |
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FEATURE
Intruding on wild lives
How far is far enough in pursuit of knowledge about the other animals?
In
the headphones, John Theberge heard the wolf's radio-collar
signal getting stronger and stronger and knew it could mean only one thing:
a killing in the making. The wildlife researcher tensed with apprehension.
The wolf was approaching through the inky Algonquin Park night —
not toward Theberge himself but toward a pack of wolves in the forest
nearby, to which this wolf was an outsider. Intensely territorial, wolf
packs often attack and sometimes slay intruders in their domains. Theberge
took off his radio headset: the pack was so near, the night so still,
that the fight would be all too audible. But no snarls rent the night.
Instead of a savage fracas, the intruder was quietly accepted, in defiance
of all known wolf behaviour. How could this be?
Only a painstaking study of the wolves' intimate lives, travels,
slaughter by humans and myriad other details could explain this tantalizing
encounter. Having carefully fitted radio collars on the young male and
some of the home-pack members in the preceding years, the team was able
to track the late-night reunion. Blood samples taken by Theberge and analyzed
by his colleagues at McMaster University in Hamilton showed that the intruder
was actually the son of the pack's dominant female; a prodigal returning
home after a three-year sojourn with a distant pack.
It was a short but telling moment in a 13-year study, a measure of the
intimate glimpses that wildlife researchers can get of their subjects
— when their work is careful, professional, ethical. The project
went on to prove that the wolves were a distinct species of special concern
and alerted the public to the unsustainable level of wolf kills by humans
in and near the park.
For the rest of this story, visit your local newsstand or go to our store to buy this issue. top
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