Wolf and Raven

Driving through the milky dawn twilight, the hills and forest of the Lamar Valley in Yellowstone
National Park begin to gradually materialize with the ever-increasing light. The air flowing over the
vehicle seems to almost crackle with the intense cold of a Yellowstone winter. It is roughly 20
degrees below zero outside of the metal and glass frame, and the temperature is somewhat
warmer inside. I had started this drive in the pitch-black darkness of 3 a.m. I have come to this
place in search of one of the spectacles of the Northern Rockies, to see the gray wolf roaming
wild and free in an essentially unaltered environment. Just a few years ago, it was impossible to
see the gray wolf in the Rockies.

Pulling into a turnout at the Specimen Ridge trailhead, I get out of the vehicle to face to brute
force of the winter for the first time. It is the type of cold that burns your nose and sucks the wind
out of your lungs. The frigid air slices through the wool and synthetic fibers of my clothing with the
ease of a needle through cloth. Almost immediately my ears and nose sting with intensity that
clouds the mind with ideas of a warm bed and hot chocolate. This cold does not seem to affect
the wolves and ravens. They, in fact, thrive in these harsh conditions. These creatures are
perfectly suited for the climate of the Northern Range of Yellowstone National Park.

With a semi-frozen ear, I hear the mournful howl of a distance wolf cascade over the sparsely
vegetated rolling hills. It is a liquid sound that seems to flow with an incessant momentum. The
howl of a wolf brings up many primordial feelings for some people. The fear of the unknown and
the dread of being in the presence of a skilled and cunning predator. The sense of wilderness and
kinship arises for others, creating a conflict in the human heart and mind. I also felt the former
was more true than the latter. The wolf is the very essence of wildness to many of us humans.
Another sound quickly accompanies the howl of the far off wolf, the hoarse call of the Common
Raven.

The raven and the wolf seem to coexist with a certain sense of harmony and understanding. The
predator provides scavenging opportunities for the bird, and the bird may be welcome company
on the coldest of nights.

The relationship between the wolf and raven has become the stuff of myths and legends for the
Native Americans and other groups around the world. Both raven and wolf were important to
these cultures. Among the Norse to see a wolf and raven together was a good omen for success
in an upcoming battle. The Cree use the relationship between the wolves and ravens to explain
the creation of the earth. “When all the land was covered with water, the trickster Wisagatcak
pulled up some trees and made a raft. On it, he collected many kinds of animals swimming in the
waters. The Raven left the raft, flying for a whole day, and saw no land, so Wisagatcak called
Wolf to help. Wolf ran around and around the raft with a ball of moss in his mouth. The moss
grew, and earth formed on it. It spread on the raft and kept on growing until it made the whole
world. This is how the Earth was created.” As native cultures told stories about wolf and raven for
thousands of years, residents and visitors in the Northern Rockies have had an opportunity to see
how wolf and raven interact since the reintroduction of the former.

The wolves have killed an elk during the night, and the half eaten carcass is lying in the brushy
gully. Where the cow had crashed through the snowdrift, there are three sets of wolf tracks
alongside. They dragged her down by the haunches, and delivered the deathblow by ripping her
throat. The predators then feasted on the warm flesh as the elk’s body heat steamed in the
moonlit night. They ate until their bellies were full, and distant sun began to lighten the eastern
horizon. The wolves had retreated into the nearby timber, and we occasionally caught a glimpse
of one of the small, black, young wolves. Standing atop the carcass, a large raven picks chunks
of meat from the rapidly freezing body. Other ravens and Black-billed Magpies soon join it. These
scavengers have sought out this kill from some distance away. Watching the ravens, I wonder if
the black birds witnessed the hunt that took place the previous night. Did a silhouetted raven
against the moon maintain a watch on the life and death struggle, and hope for death? A shy
coyote has joined the mob at the carcass. It acts like a scolded child, as it smells the wolves at
the kill. It quickly rips off a mouthful and retreats to a safe distance. For the small dog knows if the
nearby wolves catch it at their kill, it will mean a quick, violent death from the crushing jaws of its
cousins.

By the late afternoon, the light is fading and the wolves are rising. On an exposed hillside, the
pack begins to stir. They are making ready for another night’s hunt. A couple of the younger
wolves come down to the carcass for a snack. As they approach, the magpies flush in a
cacophony of harsh calls. Ravens launch up into the air, and they circle around. Except for one,
which has perched on the exposed limb of a dead Douglas-fir. It watches intently as the pair rips
bits of frozen muscle from the elk’s body. The bird seems to be almost studying the wolves, trying
to learn more about their habits. The pair of wolves turn and lope up the sage-covered hill to
rejoin the pack. With a series of howls and other vocalizations, the entire pack trot off for the
night’s hunt. The raven takes flight, and follows the pack’s path. The companions are together
again for the hunt.