We have coyotes that live around our farm. How do I know, you ask?
I’ve heard them. There’s nothing scarier than being outside alone, after dark and hearing a coyote yip, especially when it sounds like it’s just a few feet away from you.
I’ve seen them, too. Not in person … or in canine. But in videos on a camera.
A few years ago, I was trying to catch a video of the kids who ride their four-wheelers on our property without permission. We had a field cam attached to a post of the fence around our pasture.
I didn’t get any pictures of the trespassers, but I did get hundreds of videos of the deer leaving the wooded fencerow and heading off across the field. I caught video of raccoons, our dogs, and a few stray cats. And a coyote or two.
I’ve always been afraid of letting my pets out at night, for fear one of the wily creatures would try to snack on one of my furry friends.
What About the Fear?
Looking back, I realize the field cam encouraged my neurotic fears. What if a hawk swoops down? The deer could trample the cat! What’s that dog barking at?
I don’t have the field cam anymore. I figured not knowing what kinds of wildlife were in our backyard would help ease my worry. I sent the field cam to my son, Philip, who lives in Minnesota where he’s taking care of about 100 sled dogs at a kennel in northern Minnesota, about 15 minutes south of Canada.
His boss has a deal with the state wildlife department to take the carcasses of deer that are killed on the roads. He feeds the meat to his sled dogs. And sometimes he puts them out to feed other wildlife – like birds, bobcats, coyotes, and wolves.
Philip has set up the field cam in strategic locations so he can see the animals that partake of the venison buffet.
I went to visit him for about 10 days at the end of February so I could help a little (very little) while his boss was laid up with an injured hand. I’ll save my description of that experience for another post, but I got to stay in Philip’s cabin, which is rather primitive. No electricity, wood stove heat, a well-packed snow path to the outhouse.
Wolves, Coyotes and Bobcats. Oh My!
His cabin is at the bottom of a long driveway that leads to the main house and the kennels. Every morning, during our walk to the main house, we’d see fresh signs of animal crossings from one side of the drive to the other. “This is where the wolves cross, and this is where the bobcats cross, and this is where the coyotes cross,” Philip would point out to me.
We could see the deep holes where the animals’ legs sank down into the snow coming from the woods on one side of the lane. The tracks led to paw prints across the driveway and another set of leg-holes on the other side.
One morning, we found a fresh paw print in the snow that looked like it belonged to a cat, a BIG cat. The print was huge–too big for the resident bobcats. Canada Lynx, maybe?
I felt relatively safe while walking around the property. Except when I walked down the drive by myself at the end of the day. The dark sky was like ink, so black the stars popped out like auto headlights. My imagination would tell me predators’ eyes were following me as I crunched in the snow. My piddling cellphone flashlight was useless.
Something happened before I arrived that should have scared me, but it wasn’t until I actually saw where this event happened that my heart beat faster. See, even without the field cam, the worry was still with me.
While there’s snow on the ground, Philip takes tourists on rides with a team of dogs pulling a sled. He told me about one evening, after getting a late start, the sun went down while he and a family were still out on the trail.
What's Following Me?
He noticed a wolf following them and tried to figure out what he would do if the wolf made a move toward any of the dogs or his passengers. When he told me about the experience, I didn’t think too much about it until I was on that same trail and Philip pointed out how close the wolf was to him, his sled occupants, and the team of dogs–only about 20 to 25 feet.
He assured me the wildlife that moves around the house and kennel knows the men who live there and stay far away. But the wolves in Superior National Forest, where most of the sled trail is, are a different pack, and not as shy around humans.
I didn’t think much about it again until I’d been home for a week or so.
Philip called late one night. He was so hyped and talking so fast that I found it difficult to understand him. When he finally calmed down, he told this story:
It had been warmer in Minnesota and some of the snow had melted. The sled trail goes over a bridge and all the snow on the bridge was gone, so he went out to create a path across the bridge for a ride scheduled the next day.
As it got dark, he decided it was time to head back to the dog yard, and he tried to start the snowmobile he used to get to this part of the trail. Of course, the snowmobile wouldn’t start.
The realization hit him that he was going to have to walk back to the kennel, dragging the plastic tote that held all the tools he brought along with him. He set out to walk the 4.5 miles back to the dog yard – in the dark.
Wolves In the Dark
His headlamp lit the path in front of him as he trudged through the packed snow that formed the trail. As he walked, pulling the sled behind him, he felt like he was being followed. He turned. And his headlamp lit on a wolf tip-toeing about 25 feet behind him. Then he saw another one beside the trail.
And then the battery in his headlamp died, and he was plunged into darkness.
There was very little light from the moon, but he could see eyes in the distance. Five pairs. He was being followed by five wolves.
He turned and continued walking. He knew the animals were trying to decide what he was–a nuisance or dinner. And if he ran, he knew he’d be seen as prey and the wolves would start planning their all-you-can-eat buffet. So, he walked briskly and kept his hand on his knife.
As he walked, he could hear more animals following him–to the left, to the right, behind, and in front of him. He tried to plan out what he would do if the wolves attacked. He had his knife and other tools in the tote that he could use as weapons.
Then the wolves howled. They were calling in their friends.
Philip said he had never been so scared in his life. At one point, he thought there were about 20 wolves following him. As he got closer to the dog yard, the sled dogs started barking, and the wolves lost interest.
Be Prepared
His lesson? Be prepared. Make sure he’s not in the forest after dark alone. Carry extra headlamps and batteries. And other forms of protection.
Of course, I couldn’t get back to sleep after he disconnected the call. I started thinking about how we all put ourselves in situations when we should know better.
Going to the grocery store when we’re hungry. Procrastinating a project that is on a deadline. Not publishing a blog post for months on end.
We can either learn from those experiences or not.
I have several other stories about my time in Minnesota. I’m sure they’ll make their way to a blog post sooner rather than later.
In the meantime, keep an eye out for the wolves in your life. Make sure you look like someone they don’t want to mess with. Otherwise, you’re just prey.
Until next time,
Susie from Stix-N-Stonez
2 thoughts on “There’s a Time for Wolves–Just Not Now”
A.azing writing of his story. The trip to go recover the snowmobile was very fun lol. Our boundary waters trip was beautiful and serene. That place is pure magic!
And this is why I don’t like going into the Australian bush on my own: the fear of an unseen predator’s eyes upon me. Well done, Susie!
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