Living with Wolves (2005) Movie Script
1
In forested wilds beyond civilization, one
special creature has long haunted humanity.
The wolf has lurked in
our imaginations as the
very spirit of wilderness
mystique and menace.
In 1990, filmmaker Jim
Dutcher set out to capture the first
portrait of the hidden
private life of a pack of wolves.
He was joined by a fellow naturalist and
the two lived with a pack of untamed
wolves for six years in the Sawtooth
Mountains of Idaho.
Jim and Jamie Dutcher had begun as
friends, but the story of wolves also
became a story of two people drawn
together by a love for wildlife.
The pack they studied grew far different
from the demons of ancient myth.
Rather, they were animals
devoted to one another, capable
of affection and bonds
resembling those of human families.
Through Dutcher's films, they
gained fame as the Sawtooth
Pack, ambassadors to a
human world still fearful of wolves.
Their story leads to both hope and
heartache.
Some wolves would survive, some would not.
But the sawtooth pack gave us a new
understanding of wolves.
This is a story that may never happen
again.
Of two people living with wolves.
What they encountered was beyond their
greatest expectations.
In the life of a wolf pack, these cold
spring days are a time of celebration.
A remarkable event has taken place.
One among them, a female, has recently
given birth in a secluded den in the forest.
For the rest of the pack, excitement turns
to play.
Adore puppies.
They can barely wait to meet the new
litter.
But the mother keeps her young hidden from
all intruders, even her own pack.
She will do anything to protect them.
For filmmakers Jim and Jamie Dutcher,
the moment has come for a test of the
trust they've worked
to gain during years
spent living with this
untamed pack of wolves.
With the mother watching, Jamie will try
to crawl down into the den.
Something perhaps never
attempted before, with
animals long dreaded
as ferocious predators.
I really wanted to check on the health of
the pups.
I had spent a long
time with the mother, but
I couldn't be sure she
wouldn't attack me.
I tried to read her body language.
It seemed to me that she had left the den
so I could take a peek.
I sure hoped I was right.
A moment of trust seems
about to unfold between
two species long regarded
as mortal enemies.
Hey, puppies.
All right, guys.
Yeah, you're so cute.
Look at you.
You guys are tiny.
It is the culmination of a project whose
first seeds were sown not in Idaho,
but in the mountains of Wyoming,
some 40 years earlier.
The Absaroka Mountains, just south of
Yellowstone National Park.
At the edge of this vast
expanse of wilderness, young Jim
Dutcher spent summers
working as a wrangler on a ranch.
Back then, I was a teenager with a dream
summer job and a chance to play cowboy.
My responsibilities were to take care of
the horses.
I would take them out in the evening and
gather them up in the morning,
driving them back to the ranch.
For a boy from Florida, the back country
of the ranch seemed a mountain paradise,
With trout-filled lakes,
forests roamed by grizzlies
and moose, a place where
wild encounters were possible.
One day, while
searching for stray horses,
Jim came upon something
he would never forget.
In an opening ahead stood a gray wolf.
It didn't seem threatening, just curious
and unafraid.
I didn't know enough about
wolves to be aware of it at
the time, but I'd actually
seen something incredibly rare.
As Jim began making films, the wolf in
Wyoming remained a distant memory,
until another event changed his life.
It was some 30 years later and I was
looking for a new film idea when I saw
another wolf, ironically at the same
ranch.
Like the earlier wolf, it posed no threat.
It even seemed timid, leading Jim to wonder
if wolves were really bloodthirsty killers.
He imagined making a
film about the true nature of
wolves, only to learn that
they are so wary of people.
Almost nothing of their private lives had
ever been filmed.
And they were disappearing.
By 1990, only about 50 wild wolves were
left in the entire American West.
Two million had been exterminated to
protect livestock, and the surviving
wolves spent their lives in fear,
avoiding humans.
Even from the air, spotting wolves was
nearly impossible.
To film them closely, he needed a novel
strategy.
He had an idea, but it required just the
right place.
After almost a year of exploring,
he found the perfect site on forest
service land below Idaho's Sawtooth
Mountains.
He secured a special use permit,
and the Wolf Project was born.
He would set up the world's
largest wolf enclosure,
big enough to give a
pack a sense of freedom.
Jim would try to assemble
a wolf pack, beginning with a
sedated adult male flown in
from a wolf research center.
They named him Akai, Blackfoot for Wise
One.
If all went as planned, he would arrive to
become leader of the new pack.
Several wolf researchers
gave Jim help and advice, But he
knows there is no guarantee
that a real pack will form.
Nothing quite like this has ever been
attempted.
Carrying Akai into wolf camp, they
understand the significance.
No wolf has lived here in 50 years.
Akai will be the first.
Every event from now on will be documented
to gain new insights into wolf behavior.
The pack won't be as free as their wild
cousins, but Jim hopes they might help
shed light on a species whose daily lives
remain almost completely hidden from us.
Akai is soon joined by an adult female Jim
names Makui, Blackfoot for wolf.
Thus begins a project Jamie believes is
unique among animal studies.
What I've always loved about the way Jim
put this project together was that his
goal was to listen to the wolf, not
as a scientist, but as a social partner.
He learned early on that if he were to
study the intimate life of an animal,
he would have to live with that animal in
order to gain its trust.
Living in a tent for two years,
Jim had earlier filmed the hidden life of
a cougar, capturing unprecedented footage
of its behavior.
Always present, Jim was able
to film a cougar mother caring
for and teaching kittens,
and her rare vocalizations.
Filming next in a log cabin by an Idaho
pond, He modified the technique,
building within the cabin an authentic
beaver lodge.
The animals were free to come and go,
while Jim was able to film the unseen
world of beavers in the privacy of their
lodge.
Some questioned the wisdom of keeping
log-chewing animals in a cabin made of logs.
But the cabin survived, and today serves
as the Dutchers' production studio.
It now houses not wild animals,
but their images.
The world's largest close-up record of the
grey wolf.
In still photos, in miles of film,
and in Jamie's sound recordings.
The cabin also holds the record of the
Dutchers' own personal story.
One interwoven with their mutual
attraction to the natural world.
I first met Jim years ago on a flight from
Africa.
I had been in Zimbabwe taking
pictures, and although we didn't
know it at the time, we
both shared a love for wildlife.
Like Jim, Jamie was drawn to nature as a
child.
Her equivalent of the wilds of Wyoming
were the woods behind her Maryland home.
She spent her spare
time exploring, dreaming of
living in some remote
place with wild animals.
After meeting Jim, Jamie
returned to Washington,
D.C., where she began
a job at the National Zoo.
There, surrounded by the exotic creatures
she had always dreamed about, she would
work toward a career caring for ailing
animals in the zoo hospital.
It wasn't the wilderness.
It wasn't exploring.
But it was a way to have constant contact
with wildlife.
But the man she had met on a flight from
Africa began to write letters from Idaho.
Jim shared his hopes
and fears as he grappled
with the challenges of
filming the natural world.
From afar, Jamie could only imagine what
it must be like living in the wilderness.
It was the beginning of a correspondence
that would last for seven years.
Friday, June 28.
Dear Jamie, it's early morning at Wolf
Camp.
The weather is clear and cold.
In the low 30s last night.
And the mountains behind camp look
spectacular.
Earlier, as we made a fire, a lone wolf
was howling.
Along with the two adults, my crew and I
are also raising four wolf puppies.
It's exhausting feeding them around the
clock, but they're doing incredibly well.
For Jim, it's a time of wonder and worry.
Can he really assemble a wolf pack?
What might the future hold as
tiny pups leave the nursery and
grow into one of the animal
kingdom's most powerful forces?
A pack of wolves.
By 12 weeks, the pups at the Dutcher wolf
camp display distinct personalities.
One named Lakota is very
shy, while his lookalike brother,
Kamats, is the most alert
and curious of the litter.
It seems to Jim that little Komats has the
confidence and spirit of a natural leader.
As the weeks pass, Jim notices that Komats
is becoming increasingly dominant,
taking charge over a deer leg to drive
away his siblings.
Since adult wolves generally welcome pups
into a pack, no one expects a problem when
it's time to introduce them to a kai and
makui.
But there's a surprise, one that reveals
the true complexity of wolf behavior.
The pups can barely contain their
excitement.
Jim hopes the two adults will pair up and
become foster parents.
But as the pups bound in, the adult
female, Makui, slips away silently.
Akai, the adult male, asserts himself and
tries to impose some order.
But Makui, to Jim's amazement and concern,
wants no part of the pups.
She disappears.
Makui remains hidden somewhere in the
woods.
As days go by, Jim and
his crew set out to find
her, concerned she
won't get enough to eat.
She is so determined to stay hidden,
it takes three days to spot her.
Jim can see she's okay for now,
but he's baffled.
Why is she avoiding the others?
Makui remains absent for weeks while the
new pack is developing a hierarchy.
But here, too, wolf behavior is proving
extremely complicated.
The drama unfolds whenever Jim delivers a
roadkill carcass.
Surprisingly, it is not the adult Akai who
dominates, but young Kamats.
The stability of a wolf pack depends on a
single leader called the alpha male.
Jim begins to realize that it's not a
matter of age or size, But something
innate that drives one wolf to take
command of all the others.
None of the wolves, not
even Akai, is challenging
young Kamats as he
asserts himself like an alpha.
When Makui finally comes out of hiding,
she seems too afraid to join.
Jim grows increasingly worried about her
behavior.
The rocky mountain
winter settles in, burying
Wolf Camp under a
thick blanket of snow.
Somewhere beyond, McCouey remains alone.
To mirror normal wolf feeding patterns,
Jim and his crew bring in carcasses of
deer, elk or antelope every five days or
so.
Wolf pups must grow quickly to survive
their first hard winter in deep snow.
The sawtooth young are now almost adult
size.
Food prompts excitement, but Kermot's
presides.
No one eats without his permission.
From afar, Makui watches.
She appears hungry, as if she wants to
join in on the meal.
And the plate.
But she doesn't.
Increasingly worried about Makui,
Jim frequently takes elk meat to her.
Their meetings are too brief
for Jim, who hopes to gain
her trust and to discover
why she has become a loner.
The notion of a lone
wolf is largely A wolf
normally remains solitary
only for a short time.
Jim spends the winter
trying to befriend McCouey,
hoping to figure out why
her behavior is so unusual.
A wolf's every impulse tells it to be part
of something larger, to belong to a pack.
Its identity is completely intertwined
with that of its family.
With each visit, Jim is more convinced
that McCooey yearns for companionship.
Gradually, she allowed me closer, as if
enjoying the company of another being.
It was heartbreaking to think that I was
her only friend.
But at close range, Jim can see the
problem at last.
Her eyes are completely clouded over.
Is she fearful of the new pack because she
can't see them well?
And does she feel safer following trails
up here that she has probably memorized?
Jim knows there is something wrong with
McCooey's eyes.
He needs the help of an expert,
but doesn't know one.
He finally realizes he knows exactly the
right person to contact.
While Jim worries about an ailing wolf in
Idaho, Jamie is consumed with her work at
the National Zoo in Washington,
D.C.
His pulse is strong.
She has no idea that the
medical knowledge she
is gaining will have an
impact beyond the zoo.
Temperature looks good.
She is about to hear again from the
wolfman in the West.
Jim needs advice from someone with
veterinary experience.
Concerned about the wolves, Jim also just
needs to talk to a friend.
Dear Jamie, I know it's
been a long time, but I've
got a serious problem here
with an adult female wolf.
I'm in the yurt and she's howling so sadly
outside.
She seems to be a loner.
I've been trying to get close to her to
see what might be the problem.
I'm convinced there's something wrong with
her eyes.
It may be cataracts.
Have you any ideas?
I could really use some help.
It was obvious from this letter how much
Jim cared about these animals.
I suggested that he contact a veterinary
ophthalmologist to examine her eyes.
I knew that they had performed cataract
surgery on domestic dogs.
I just wish I could have been there to
help him.
Taking Jamie's advice, Jim
finds a top animal eye surgeon
and outfits Wolf Camp with
veterinary surgical equipment.
He fears that carting
McCooey off to a hospital could
deeply stress an animal
already full of anxiety.
He turns the tent into a field hospital.
It's okay, McCooey.
It's gonna be okay.
Okay, now, I'll get your dracopene
injection over here.
It's right here.
Watching the surgery, Jim reflects.
Filming the natural world, it is
impossible to know what direction the
story will take, especially when the subject
is an animal we know so little about.
The result is another surprise.
Mokui emerges with her eyesight restored.
But she never fully trusts Jim in the same
way.
Neither of the two adult wolves have grown
comfortable or accepted Jim.
Reluctantly, he decides to concentrate on
the yearlings and to find another home for
Mokui Kamatsu and the other yearlings knew
me from the moment they opened their eyes.
Their trust was absolute and understood.
I knew deep in my heart that the future of
the sawtooth pack
A dark female named Mataki catches Jin's
eye.
In the emerging hierarchy of the
yearlings, Mataki has been relegated to
the role of Omega, lowest-ranking member
of the family.
At the bottom of the pecking order,
Mataki is part scapegoat for the pack's
aggression, part clown, forever diffusing
tension by initiating play.
The omega is an important
member of the pack,
not an outcast, but it's
always on the bottom.
Though Mataki's role as
a jester is appreciated by
the wolves, her low rank
is made clear at every meal.
Kamatsu and the others eat first.
Mataki must always eat first.
Sometimes,
as if to avoid trouble, Motake wanders off
alone.
She is less than a year
old and not very savvy about
dangers lurking beyond
the protection of the pack.
When Motake fails to show up one day,
Jim goes looking for her.
What he finds is his worst nightmare.
The gentlest, most playful member of the
pack was dead.
Who or what had done this?
For a moment I feared the killer might
still be nearby, watching me.
I tried to think.
Maybe a cougar was responsible.
Some of Motoki's fur had
been removed, something I
had observed while
filming a cougar and its kill.
I found wolf claw marks and a telltale
sign, some of Mataki's fur.
I think the pack found a killer
in this tree and tried to claw
their way up to get the cougar
that had killed their sister.
The death of Mataki has a profound effect.
The rest of the wolves
seem listless, mired in a
deep depression through
spring and into the summer.
Their howling takes
on a mournful, searching
quality, as if they are
trying to call Mataki back.
Mataki's death really affected Jim deeply.
Her loss and the mournful state of the
pack was devastating.
After losing sweet-natured Mataki, Jim
wonders how he can raise the pack's spirit.
There is one perfect way.
Jim decides to expand the pack and enliven
it with three new pups.
The young wolves went beyond just
accepting me.
They bonded with me,
and as detached and
scientific as I tried to
be, I bonded with them.
Wolf Camp is serenaded by new voices.
As Jim begins to
chronicle their emerging
personalities, one spirited
beige male catches his eye.
Unaware the pup will grow up to be the
pack peacemaker and his favorite,
he names him Matsi, Blackfoot for sweet
and brave.
At 16 weeks, the pups join the others.
Instinctively, they recognize
the dominance of the
adults and drop down
submissively in their presence.
Kamats leads them on a tour of their new
home.
Jim can see a new hierarchy developing.
The rankings are sorted out over food.
Kamats presides, but at
times he just observes, as
if curious about the power
struggles taking place.
The young wolf Jim calls Matsi seems
bolder than the other pups.
He even drives away Lakota, the brother of
Kamats.
Despite Lakota's imploring looks,
Kamats never intervenes.
As the second autumn passes,
Jim wonders if the yearlings will
form the stable pack he had
hoped for with Akai and Makui.
One day, Kamats approached me,
but instead of trotting off as he usually
did after greeting me, he sat down next to
me.
In a gesture I'd never seen before,
he raised his paw.
I held my hand out to meet it,
and we just sat there.
At that moment, I knew everything was
going to be all right.
I realized that the one
who would stabilize the
pack and make the whole
project work wasn't me.
It was Kamats.
Another winter descends, imposing bitter
cold.
The deep snow is an
obstacle to filmmakers, but a big
white playground to wolves
wearing thick new coats.
Though Kamats the alpha appears to play
aggressively, when he inadvertently knocks
a yearling over, he returns, as if to
apologize.
To Jim, it seems that the
confidence Kamats possessed
in youth is blossoming
into a calm benevolence.
He is more alert than the
others, with a look that seems
to convey the intelligence
and concern of a leader.
Dear Jamie, at last things are beginning
to look a little bit more positive.
We just had our first snowstorm,
and the pack loved it.
More importantly, I'm starting to see some
new behavior.
I wish you could see how Kamatz takes care
of his pack.
I suppose we all have moments in our lives
that are milestones.
I was stopped by Jim in the aisle of an
airplane, a brief and pleasant meeting,
that turned my life upside down seven
years later.
Jim's letters to Jamie had continued since
their brief meeting.
Letters about wolves and snowstorms, wild
puppies and minus 40 degree temperatures.
They had interests in common, but a
continent between them.
Then, a letter changes Jamie's life.
Jim asks her to come meet the wolves and
see if she might like living in Idaho.
What can I say?
I was being asked to go live in an ice-cold
tent on the other side of the continent.
It was crazy.
But by then, I knew I loved Jim.
So I went.
In her early thirties, Jamie leaves behind
her Maryland home and her career.
Gambling that life
among wolves in Idaho will
be more like the life she
dreamed of as a child.
A life of wild animals and adventure.
As she's about to find out, she has no
idea how adventurous it will be.
Yesterday, home for Jamie was a suburban
house outside Washington, D.C.
Now, it is a tent, surrounded by snow,
without electricity, water, or plumbing.
It's called a yurt, a
round tent traditionally
used by Mongolian nomads
to endure hard winters.
It's about 16 feet in
diameter with a conical
roof that withstands
the weight of deep snow.
One room, few comforts, middle of nowhere.
But the backyard is glorious.
For Jamie, it feels like her dream is
coming true.
Idaho was hardly the far-off and desolate
land it had once seemed.
I have to smile to
myself thinking back on
how foreign and scary
it had been in my mind.
It immediately felt like home.
A beautiful home.
As Jim took me to meet the
wolves, I sensed that I was
regaining something I once
felt as a child in the natural world.
It had begun to fade from my life, and so
had the dream of living with wild animals.
Now it was coming true.
I knew the wolves from Jim's letters.
I just hoped they would accept me.
Jim had a special relationship with the
wolves.
You could see it.
The pack trusted him completely.
He never tried to approach
them when they were not
in a social mood, and he
never treated them as pets.
From
the moment I met Jamie, I
just knew that she would fit
in, not just into the project,
but into my life as well.
When she was introduced
to the wolves, she instinctively
knew that everything
had to be on their terms.
Each of the wolves
wanted to meet me at once,
licking absolutely
every inch of my face.
I quickly learned to keep my mouth closed
during these greetings, which was
extremely difficult to do because the urge
to burst into a smile was overwhelming.
Jamie notices that one wolf is shy and
stays away.
Jim explains that the
role of Omega has been
forced on Lakota
since the loss of Mitaki.
Jamie is drawn to the plight of this
reticent and meek wolf.
Lakota faces the unyielding rule of his
own brother, the alpha.
Kamat can be benevolent, but he is always
supreme.
His command over a carcass is unyielding.
He alone decides who will eat when,
and Lakota, by rank, must eat last.
Lakota tries to approach the carcass
unnoticed, before his turn.
But Kamats must reinforce the rules of
status, which ensure pack stability.
He refuses to let his Omega brother near
the food.
His attack is meant only as a warning.
An alpha rarely harms a pack member.
Mid-ranking wolves constantly seek
dominance over one another.
Kamats is the arbiter of all disputes,
putting each in his place.
Lakota takes a new tack,
hoping to make himself so
insignificant that no
one will notice him eating.
He prostrates himself before Kamats,
whose attention wanders.
Perhaps Lakota can snatch a quick bite
before the others see.
It doesn't work.
For weeks, Jamie watches Lakota play his
omega role.
She notices something
not readily apparent,
because Lakota often
remains so low to the ground.
The ever-submissive Lakota is actually
bigger than his brother Kamats, the alpha.
Can a wolf born with such a yielding
personality ever hope to escape being the omega?
The mysteries are only beginning.
At Wolf Camp, the winter sun slips behind
the peaks by mid-afternoon.
Home life in a frozen wilderness comes
down to the basics.
Firewood provides the only warmth.
Lanterns and candles, the light.
Evenings are spent as if living in a
canvas cocoon, Surrounded outside by
wolves and icy mountains and the hush of
falling snow.
To Jim and Jamie, the modern world seems
far away.
Neither can imagine wanting to be any
place else.
At the end of the day, they heat creek
water on the wood stove.
It makes possible the
one luxury they permit
themselves in a world
so far from civilization.
A hot shower.
Despite the sub-zero winter
temperatures, the wolves
seem as if they couldn't
care less about the cold.
Exploring, the wolves
notice bubbles beneath the ice
and grow frustrated when
they're unable to reach them.
But neither ice nor snow penetrates their
double layer of fur.
Their outer coat of long hair blocks the
wind and gives them their particular color.
Underneath, they all have the same gray
coat of wooly, insulating fur.
Their keen sense of smell detects things
hidden in the snow.
Not exactly big game,
nor a filling meal,
but wolves are born
to hunt, no matter what.
In contrast to the natural comfort of a
wolf in winter, life for Jim and Jamie is
a kind of endless series of chores
performed in constant, finger-numbing cold.
The roof has to be cleared frequently.
Snow cleared from the roof has to be
shoveled.
A simple trip for firewood means donning
snowshoes.
And then there are the
holes The snow falls and roots
hidden beneath the snow and
the wood must still be fetched.
Temperatures stay below zero for long
periods and snowfall reaches 200 inches.
The wolves watch as
if greatly entertained by
Jim and Jamie's attempts
to cope with winter.
Some chores, like getting water for the
shower, are important but not essential.
Keeping the path to the outhouse clear is
essential.
They keep the stove going all day to warm
the yurt.
When the fire dies at night, the icy chill
of winter engulfs Wolf Camp.
Through the winter, the
Dutchers rethink the design of Wolf
Camp, which leaves them
quartered outside the wolves' territory.
The old camp always had shortcomings.
The fence was a barrier between the wolves
and us.
The wolves could hear us at camp,
but couldn't see what we were up to.
Joining them would always alter their
behavior.
They were that curious.
This is a beautiful place.
With the coming of spring in
1994, Jim and Jamie decide to
move their living quarters
inside the wolves' territory.
Without Jamie, I might not have made the
move.
But her enthusiasm refueled the project.
She had a hunch that living with the
wolves would improve our observations.
And she was right.
They relocate the yurt atop
a platform so they will have
a better view of the comings
and goings of the pack.
The change is dramatic.
They are no longer living near the wolves,
but among them.
They aren't intruders, just part of the
pack's everyday surroundings.
The wolves actually pay less attention to
them and behave more naturally.
Jim and Jamie's film and photographs grow
even more intimate and revealing.
There is, however, one thing missing from
the project.
Since the year of Mataki's death,
there's been no female in the family.
To observe the birth of a new litter would
be an extraordinary opportunity.
To do that, they will need a female.
Three new pups are adopted.
Two are females.
Gender seems to matter little when it
comes to their inborn mischief.
Caring for the little ones is a 24-hour
job.
The crew is eager to get them out of the
tent.
The pups are ready to explore.
And the rest of the pack,
excited by the sound
of young voices, is
impatient to meet them.
Two seem bold and spirited, Wayakin and
Wahats.
While the timid black
female, Shamuk, often keeps
to herself, watching her
brother and sister play.
The youngsters quickly try to act like
grown-ups.
On the day they introduce
the new pups to the
pack, Jim and Jamie
worry about little Shamuk.
She seems fearful of mixing with the
adults.
Shamuk watches, while Bahats and Wayakin
are quick to integrate themselves.
Instinct tells them to
get low, submit to the
adults and gain Shemuk
remains wary and keeps away.
The Dutchers wonder if she might be an
omega in the making.
Or worse, that she might be ostracized by
the pack.
But their fears begin to recede as weeks
go by.
Shemuk isn't as assertive as the others,
but she does begin to join them in play.
Watching Jamie play with the pups,
I could see how gentle and caring she was,
how easily she had gained the pack's
respect, and how lucky I was.
At that moment, I did what I should have
done so many years before.
I asked Jamie to marry me.
With both pups as witnesses, Jamie says
yes.
She has found happiness
with Jim and the wolves
and has regained a part
of herself she nearly lost.
From their new vantage
point inside the enclosure, the
Dutchers watch a drama
unfold among the three new pups.
One, it seems, has provoked the
displeasure of the alpha.
Ordinarily, the young are welcome to join
the rest of the pack over a meal,
and that's the case with Bahats and
Wayakan.
But for fearful Shamuk, it's a different
matter.
Kamats makes it clear that she has to
wait, like Lakota, the Omega.
So much of a wolf's social position
depends on a show of confidence.
The Dutchers sometimes wonder if picking
on a timid wolf is a way to encourage the
aggressiveness needed for survival in the
wild.
The more assertive pups
are allowed to gorge, but
they know they eat at
the pleasure of their elders.
But Shamuk's nature seems to make her a
target for kamats.
Each wolf occupies a rung of the social
ladder.
Often there are two omegas, a male and a
female.
Jim and Jamie begin to think Shamuk is
destined to be the female omega.
Motsi, whose boldness as a pup caught
Jim's eye, is now the beta wolf,
second-in-command and also the pack
babysitter.
Always keeping an eye on the young,
Motsi is their caretaker and educator.
I wanted to be an impartial observer,
but Lakota the Omega touched my heart.
Always trying to please
his brother the Alpha,
hunched over, tail
tucked in submission.
I began spending a lot of time documenting
Lakota.
I noticed that although the pack always
picked on him, They clearly cared about
him, especially Moxie, who would stand by
making sure Lakota was okay.
I realized there's a lot going on in the
inner lives of wolves.
I kept trying to film Jamie and Lakota
together.
But every time I would turn the camera on,
Lakota would become nervous and move away.
Jim experiments in an effort to make
Lakota more comfortable.
He replaces the movie camera with a
smaller still camera and sets up further
away, hoping to capture the growing bond
between the Omega and Jamie.
Lakota took a big risk spending time with
me.
If the Pack had caught him getting special
attention, they would have attacked him.
But sometimes we would just sit together.
Once he took his paw and
he gently placed it on my
shoulder and gazed at me with
those wise amber eyes of his.
We sat that way for quite a while.
From that moment I was
captivated by him and I knew
he would forever hold a
special place in my heart.
With the Dutch's move into the wolves'
territory, the human and wolf worlds merge.
Because Jim While Sam and
Jamie are living with the pack,
they witness behavior they
couldn't have seen otherwise.
For example, the comedy
routine that takes place
with food between Wayakan
and her brother Wahats.
Thinking no one is looking, greedy young
Wayakan sneaks away with meat.
Unaware, Wahats is watching.
She quietly hides her secret stash in the
bushes.
Wahats tails her silently, perhaps
suspicious of her bulging belly.
But Wahats figures out that if he waits,
his sister will do all the work.
As soon as Wayakin leaves, Wahats dashes
in and eats the hidden meat.
From then on, Wayakin is always bewildered
when she can't find her stash,
unaware that her brother is outwitting
her.
Some winters are cold, but some are
brutal.
The Dutchers are consumed by daily chores
and by life with the wolves.
Half a decade will pass as a blur of
seasons.
Winter cold seems to melt suddenly into
summer heat.
Summer is quickly winter again.
But there is music accompanying the
passage of time.
An ancient music of the wild.
Sound recordist for the
films, Jamie spends her spare
time accumulating an
archive of the pack's howls.
She finds that she can identify individual
wolves by their unique inflections.
Surprisingly, Lakota had the most
beautiful howl.
Eyes shut and head thrown back,
he would just pour his heart out,
rich, mournful, lonely and sad.
I felt as if I were
listening to him sing the
blues, giving voice to
the despair of an omega.
Jamie believes that
wolves are so intelligent
that they can communicate
in complicated ways
Each was an individual in
personality and voice, but needed
to feel forever linked with
his companions in the pack.
They constantly rubbed
and licked one another
as if to reassure
themselves of this closeness.
Even competitive wrestling was a way of
reinforcing that each Each had a place in
the pack structure, that they were a
united family.
It is at last clear to Jim and Jamie that
the project is succeeding.
The pack is now a cohesive family.
Most importantly, the wolves trust their
human friends.
We had names for each, but they didn't
know that.
We didn't approach the pack.
The wolves came to us only if they chose
to.
It made their friendship all the more
rewarding.
Kamats was in charge, but he could be just
as playful as the others.
I'd come to admire After years of watching
him lead, to be accepted by him,
to be worthy of his attention, and maybe
even affection, was an overwhelming honor.
Early on, the Dutchers learn that the
wolves rarely sleep through the night.
To capture the full range of pack
vocalizations, Jamie sets up an outside
microphone Jamie has been wired to sound
gear in her bed.
Even when howling breaks out in the middle
of the night, she's ready to record.
Wolves howl at any time, day or night.
Sometimes in response to a distant sound.
Sometimes to check on one another.
Jamie believes wolves howl for more
reasons than we can know.
Often the whole pack rallies together and
starts a game of tag, playing in the dark,
unmindful of the bone-chilling cold.
Their nightly singing became
as soothing as rainfall on
a window, an ancient sound
of the earth, of life itself.
The singing would
end, and the pack would
settle down, leaving
the world silent again.
I would fall asleep wanting this magical
life to go on forever.
Winters in the mountains
of Idaho are marathons
of endurance for Jim
and Jamie Dutcher.
The valley surrounding Wolf Camp,
chilled by high altitude and sweeping
winds, is one of the coldest spots in the
United States.
To get warm, the Dutchers must
occasionally go indoors.
But so little body heat
escapes a wolf's thick
coat that snow does
not even melt on its fur.
They can lie completely exposed to the
fury of winter.
No matter how severe the
weather becomes, Jim and Jamie
are always amazed to find
the pack completely unaffected.
Sometimes the wolves curl up and sleep
through the worst storms.
They never seek shelter in a den or under
trees.
They seem a perfect animal for winter.
Not only are they blase
about the cold, they
greet fresh snow as if
it's a gift from heaven.
Some new surprise that always puts them in
a mood to play.
Two of the most fun-loving are the young
female Wayakin and her black sister,
Shamuk.
Once shy, but increasingly rambunctious
and assertive.
The Dutchers believe that Kamatz will soon
pick one to be his mate, to become the
alpha female and the mother of the pack's
first litter.
Jim and Jamie still feel Shamuk might
become an omega, like poor Lakota.
But they know better than to predict wolf
behavior.
In fact, the caretaker Matsi
has begun to discipline Shamuk's
siblings, enabling Shamuk
to begin moving up in rank.
So far, Kamat seems more interested in
snow than in choosing a mate.
Usually, only two in a wolf pack will
mate, the alpha male and female.
Yet all sense that something important is
about to happen.
There's an electricity in the air.
It may be the dead of winter, but the heat
of the mating season approaches.
As January turns to February, Jamie
notices a distinct change in Shamuk.
She grows even more assertive and less
timid.
Everyone is on edge.
Only the alphas mate, but all of the
wolves experience the urge to reproduce.
The pack remains
friendly to them, but Jim
and Jamie sense the
mood turning more serious.
As if the wolves know a turning point is
coming.
Will Kamats choose the watchful Shamuk?
Or the female the
Dutchers believe better
suited, Wayakan, who
is larger and livelier?
One day it is obvious to Jamie,
from the intensity of the pack and their
vocalizations, that the females have gone
into heat.
The situation is not lost on Kamats.
Suddenly, Kamats makes his choice clear.
It is little Shamuk to the Dutchess'
surprise.
And perhaps to hers as well.
From that moment on, Shamuk's life and that
of the entire pack changes dramatically.
The shy female expected to
become an omega has risen
instead to the role of alpha
female, the mate of the leader.
Since wolves usually pair for life,
Shamuk will reign supreme over the other
females in the pack, Effectively becoming
the queen mother of the family.
If her story had unfolded in the fairytale
world, little Shamuk would be Cinderella.
Wayakin had seemed the likely princess.
Now she could only watch.
And so the wait begins, to see if the
tender rituals of courtship will lead to
the first pups produced by the sawtooth
pack itself.
In the third week of April, in a hidden
forest den, a litter of pups is born.
Shamuk, the new mother,
feeds them for nearly a month in
seclusion, barring even the
pack from visiting the den.
The question is, will the high-strung young
female allow Jamie to inspect her new pups?
I scanned Shamuk's
face for any trace of
distress, but she just
looked at me curiously.
She would surely have
attacked anyone else, but we had
developed a strong trust
since she was a pup herself.
When she left the den, it seemed a sign
that I was permitted entrance,
which really touched me.
There was only one way to find out if I
understood her signals.
Shumuk just watched me, as if she was proud
to show off what she had accomplished.
There was no detectable odor.
Shumuk knew how to conceal her pups from
predators by keeping a tidy den.
I could make out three little heads.
Your mom's waiting outside for you.
Yeah, you're so cute.
Look at you.
Yeah, you're tiny.
The pups almost looked like little bear
cubs.
They were endearing and inquisitive,
like most young and innocent animals.
They sniffed the air and chirped at me.
Maybe they thought I was there to feed
them.
I stayed less than a minute.
It was an honor just to get a glimpse.
Until her pups can see
clearly and walk steadily, a wolf
mother keeps them under
her constant watch in the den.
Food for the nursing mother is left
outside by the rest of the pack.
I was amazed by
Shamuk's display of absolute
trust, allowing Jamie to
crawl right into her den.
Then, over the next
several weeks, she continued
to give Jamie access
to her precious litter.
At four weeks, the pups are allowed to
venture out and explore.
There are two females and one male,
all black like their mother.
They are the first wolves born in the
Sawtooth Mountains in 50 years or more.
The arrival of new family members pleases
all of the wolves, but two in particular.
Matsi, the beta male, assumes the role of
caretaker and puppy sitter, as he has with
previous litters, even keeping a closer
eye on the pups than their mother does.
But perhaps the most inspired adult is a
male named Amani.
Always spoiling for a fight with the other
mid-ranking adults, He is completely
gentle with the pups, like an indulgent
uncle.
He doesn't seek to be their teacher or
protector, only their playmate.
The new litter brings out the complex
personalities of the wolves.
Amani is the first to pick on the Omega.
Yet nothing the pups can do bothers him.
The joy of youngsters seems to infect and
enliven the entire pack.
But for the Dutchers, it's a time of
growing concern.
The wolves will soon need a permanent
place to live.
Jim invites Carla High Eagle of the Nez
Perce tribe to wolf camp.
Over several years, Jim and the Nez Perce
have discussed moving the pack to a
similar situation on tribal lands, when
the Forest Service permit expires here.
Now, that time is approaching.
None of them will come to us if we ask
them to.
Everything is on their terms.
And this is the Omega?
Yeah, and he's at the bottom of the pack,
where Kamats is the leader.
Even though we have names of these wolves,
they don't respond to their names.
I don't think they even know their names,
but it keeps them straight.
Impressed by the tribe's involvement in
efforts to bring wild wolves back,
Jim believes the Nez Perce would provide a
safe future for the pack.
In late summer, potential
tragedy intensifies Jim
and Jamie's concern for
the welfare of the pack.
A major forest fire in the
Sawtooth crosses a ridge
above them and for a time
seems headed for Wolf Camp.
All the Dutchers can do is watch and hope.
Fortunately, the fire is controlled.
But the engulfing smoke
and the approaching
deadline on the land
permit prompt the decision.
It is time to find a permanent and safe
home for the Sawtooth pack.
The Nez Perce offer
to give the pack a home
on their tribal lands
when the permit expires.
For Jim and Jamie, the news is
bittersweet.
The wolves will have a lasting home,
but after six years of living with them,
of knowing them as friends, it won't be
easy to say goodbye.
We filled those final summer
days just spending as much
time with the wolves as
possible, Hardly even filming.
We wanted to memorize every move they
made, every facial expression,
to imprint them forever in our minds.
On August 6, 1996, we set out for northern
Idaho, carrying the pack to their new home
on Nespers Land.
It was the saddest trip that I had ever
taken.
At its end, we would be leaving
not only the wolves, but also
the life that Jamie and I and
the wolves had created together.
Carla High Eagle welcomes the pack to the
tribal lands of the Nez Perce.
It's time to see their new home for the
first time.
Jim and Jamie decide to let the youngest
members of the pack out first,
so the adults would be comforted knowing
the pups were free and safe.
The first adult out is Kamats,
followed in turn by the rest of the pack.
But the Dutchers know
that the others will attack
the Omega if he were
to emerge ahead of them.
So Lakota must wait to be let out last.
A moment occurs with Kamats
that symbolizes the alpha's
devotion to his pack and
the solidarity of a wolf family.
Kamats returns to the
crate holding Lakota,
gently coaxing his
fearful brother to come out.
Kamats knew that Lakota would need some
encouragement, and he refused to lead the
wolves into this new territory until his
pack was complete.
Kamats wouldn't leave his brother behind,
Omega or not.
The pack explores with exuberance,
but caution.
Until certain there are no other wolves or
predators, they remain silent.
Sniffing every inch of the terrain and
listening to every new sound.
After several hours, one by one,
they return to the dutchers.
Almost as if sensing that the time had
come for a farewell.
The first was Lakota who licked us.
I'm going to miss you guys.
I wondered if he would ever escape the
role of Omega.
I hoped he would.
Then Kamats, the steadfast
leader, who made our
wolf project succeed and
won my heartfelt respect.
I will never forget you.
And Matsi, who touched me deeply.
The pack's caretaker and peacemaker.
I'm going to miss you, Matsi.
The one who looked after the young and
often defended Port Lakota.
You're going to be alright in this new
place.
They had been our life
and our close companions,
but in the end, they
were a wolf pack.
They had their own family, a good family.
Would they remember us?
Would they adapt to this unfamiliar place?
In wooded backcountry of northern Idaho,
on tribal lands of the Nez Perce,
Seasons pass for a wolf
pack, unaccompanied
for the first time by
Jim and Jamie Dutcher.
But the tribe sends news.
All are well, and there has been a big
shift in the hierarchy.
With the help of Matsi, the
peacemaker, Lakota has finally
escaped the role of Omega,
replaced by another adult.
From afar, the Dutchers can only imagine
Lakota's relief.
To give the pack ample time to grow
accustomed to life on their own,
Jim and Jamie stay away.
But after nearly a year,
the urge to see them and to
check on their well-being
can no longer be resisted.
But how will the wolves now feel about
them?
We were very nervous how the pack might
react to us.
We were afraid they might think of us as
strangers.
Their fears dissolved in a marathon of
licking.
It was wonderful to see them again.
Even after all this time, the wolves still
welcomed us.
That precious sense of trust between us
was still there.
And so was their affection.
I couldn't voice my feelings, but they
could.
The Dutchers have long hoped for the
return of wild wolves.
Conviction deepened by the years spent
with the sawtooth pack.
East of their Idaho home, they trek deep
into Yellowstone National Park.
In an attempt to restore
a native predator here, 30
wolves were reintroduced
to the park in the mid-1990s.
Their numbers have grown to
more than 200, and researchers are
finding their presence beneficial
to the ecology of the park.
Our hope is that the fear of wolves is
fading, The people are beginning to know
them as caring animals devoted to their
families.
Animals that deserve a chance to survive.
We believe the wolves of the Sawtooth Pack
were the forerunners of their wild
cousins, opening people's eyes, serving
as ambassadors from their kind to ours.
Wolves live only about seven to ten years.
In time, members of the sawtooth pack
begin to disappear.
When word reached me that Kamats had died,
I was devastated.
I don't believe I'll ever forget that
moment.
He was such a friend.
For three weeks after his death, a
single wolf was heard howling in the night.
I wonder if it was his brother,
Lakota.
As time passed, we lost more of the pack.
Lakota, my dear friend
Matsi, and we knew we
would have to say
farewell to all of them.
We hope they made a difference,
that their story helped their kind.
On an autumn day, Jim
and Jamie set out on a
mission of the heart, one
they have long avoided.
They head down the trail to the old site
of Wolf Camp.
There is no trace left of the camp.
The trails are overgrown where the wolves
once ran.
The hardest thing is
returning to wolf camp,
and for the longest time
we couldn't even do it.
As they near the old site of the yurt,
a remarkable surprise.
Jim finds a wolf track.
The sawtooth pack has been gone for years.
The track has to be that of a wild wolf
passing through here in the past few days.
By the size of the print, a large male.
It means that wild
wolves are back in the
wilderness of Idaho for
the first time in 50 years.
For Jim and Jamie, this
roaming wolf provides a
poignant close to the
story of the sawtooth pack.
They know that
wolves often travel great
distances following the
scent of other wolves.
This one had probably dispersed from a
reintroduced pack up north and was
traveling south to find a mate and start a
new family.
I wonder how the wolf
responded when he picked
up the fading traces
of the sawtooth pack.
Did he look around in silence,
wary of encroaching on their territory?
Or did he howl in hopes of joining them?
Perhaps he felt more comfortable,
assured by the scent of distant kin,
that this was wolf country.
I like to think that was the case.
That here, where we once lived with
wolves, he felt like he belonged.
In forested wilds beyond civilization, one
special creature has long haunted humanity.
The wolf has lurked in
our imaginations as the
very spirit of wilderness
mystique and menace.
In 1990, filmmaker Jim
Dutcher set out to capture the first
portrait of the hidden
private life of a pack of wolves.
He was joined by a fellow naturalist and
the two lived with a pack of untamed
wolves for six years in the Sawtooth
Mountains of Idaho.
Jim and Jamie Dutcher had begun as
friends, but the story of wolves also
became a story of two people drawn
together by a love for wildlife.
The pack they studied grew far different
from the demons of ancient myth.
Rather, they were animals
devoted to one another, capable
of affection and bonds
resembling those of human families.
Through Dutcher's films, they
gained fame as the Sawtooth
Pack, ambassadors to a
human world still fearful of wolves.
Their story leads to both hope and
heartache.
Some wolves would survive, some would not.
But the sawtooth pack gave us a new
understanding of wolves.
This is a story that may never happen
again.
Of two people living with wolves.
What they encountered was beyond their
greatest expectations.
In the life of a wolf pack, these cold
spring days are a time of celebration.
A remarkable event has taken place.
One among them, a female, has recently
given birth in a secluded den in the forest.
For the rest of the pack, excitement turns
to play.
Adore puppies.
They can barely wait to meet the new
litter.
But the mother keeps her young hidden from
all intruders, even her own pack.
She will do anything to protect them.
For filmmakers Jim and Jamie Dutcher,
the moment has come for a test of the
trust they've worked
to gain during years
spent living with this
untamed pack of wolves.
With the mother watching, Jamie will try
to crawl down into the den.
Something perhaps never
attempted before, with
animals long dreaded
as ferocious predators.
I really wanted to check on the health of
the pups.
I had spent a long
time with the mother, but
I couldn't be sure she
wouldn't attack me.
I tried to read her body language.
It seemed to me that she had left the den
so I could take a peek.
I sure hoped I was right.
A moment of trust seems
about to unfold between
two species long regarded
as mortal enemies.
Hey, puppies.
All right, guys.
Yeah, you're so cute.
Look at you.
You guys are tiny.
It is the culmination of a project whose
first seeds were sown not in Idaho,
but in the mountains of Wyoming,
some 40 years earlier.
The Absaroka Mountains, just south of
Yellowstone National Park.
At the edge of this vast
expanse of wilderness, young Jim
Dutcher spent summers
working as a wrangler on a ranch.
Back then, I was a teenager with a dream
summer job and a chance to play cowboy.
My responsibilities were to take care of
the horses.
I would take them out in the evening and
gather them up in the morning,
driving them back to the ranch.
For a boy from Florida, the back country
of the ranch seemed a mountain paradise,
With trout-filled lakes,
forests roamed by grizzlies
and moose, a place where
wild encounters were possible.
One day, while
searching for stray horses,
Jim came upon something
he would never forget.
In an opening ahead stood a gray wolf.
It didn't seem threatening, just curious
and unafraid.
I didn't know enough about
wolves to be aware of it at
the time, but I'd actually
seen something incredibly rare.
As Jim began making films, the wolf in
Wyoming remained a distant memory,
until another event changed his life.
It was some 30 years later and I was
looking for a new film idea when I saw
another wolf, ironically at the same
ranch.
Like the earlier wolf, it posed no threat.
It even seemed timid, leading Jim to wonder
if wolves were really bloodthirsty killers.
He imagined making a
film about the true nature of
wolves, only to learn that
they are so wary of people.
Almost nothing of their private lives had
ever been filmed.
And they were disappearing.
By 1990, only about 50 wild wolves were
left in the entire American West.
Two million had been exterminated to
protect livestock, and the surviving
wolves spent their lives in fear,
avoiding humans.
Even from the air, spotting wolves was
nearly impossible.
To film them closely, he needed a novel
strategy.
He had an idea, but it required just the
right place.
After almost a year of exploring,
he found the perfect site on forest
service land below Idaho's Sawtooth
Mountains.
He secured a special use permit,
and the Wolf Project was born.
He would set up the world's
largest wolf enclosure,
big enough to give a
pack a sense of freedom.
Jim would try to assemble
a wolf pack, beginning with a
sedated adult male flown in
from a wolf research center.
They named him Akai, Blackfoot for Wise
One.
If all went as planned, he would arrive to
become leader of the new pack.
Several wolf researchers
gave Jim help and advice, But he
knows there is no guarantee
that a real pack will form.
Nothing quite like this has ever been
attempted.
Carrying Akai into wolf camp, they
understand the significance.
No wolf has lived here in 50 years.
Akai will be the first.
Every event from now on will be documented
to gain new insights into wolf behavior.
The pack won't be as free as their wild
cousins, but Jim hopes they might help
shed light on a species whose daily lives
remain almost completely hidden from us.
Akai is soon joined by an adult female Jim
names Makui, Blackfoot for wolf.
Thus begins a project Jamie believes is
unique among animal studies.
What I've always loved about the way Jim
put this project together was that his
goal was to listen to the wolf, not
as a scientist, but as a social partner.
He learned early on that if he were to
study the intimate life of an animal,
he would have to live with that animal in
order to gain its trust.
Living in a tent for two years,
Jim had earlier filmed the hidden life of
a cougar, capturing unprecedented footage
of its behavior.
Always present, Jim was able
to film a cougar mother caring
for and teaching kittens,
and her rare vocalizations.
Filming next in a log cabin by an Idaho
pond, He modified the technique,
building within the cabin an authentic
beaver lodge.
The animals were free to come and go,
while Jim was able to film the unseen
world of beavers in the privacy of their
lodge.
Some questioned the wisdom of keeping
log-chewing animals in a cabin made of logs.
But the cabin survived, and today serves
as the Dutchers' production studio.
It now houses not wild animals,
but their images.
The world's largest close-up record of the
grey wolf.
In still photos, in miles of film,
and in Jamie's sound recordings.
The cabin also holds the record of the
Dutchers' own personal story.
One interwoven with their mutual
attraction to the natural world.
I first met Jim years ago on a flight from
Africa.
I had been in Zimbabwe taking
pictures, and although we didn't
know it at the time, we
both shared a love for wildlife.
Like Jim, Jamie was drawn to nature as a
child.
Her equivalent of the wilds of Wyoming
were the woods behind her Maryland home.
She spent her spare
time exploring, dreaming of
living in some remote
place with wild animals.
After meeting Jim, Jamie
returned to Washington,
D.C., where she began
a job at the National Zoo.
There, surrounded by the exotic creatures
she had always dreamed about, she would
work toward a career caring for ailing
animals in the zoo hospital.
It wasn't the wilderness.
It wasn't exploring.
But it was a way to have constant contact
with wildlife.
But the man she had met on a flight from
Africa began to write letters from Idaho.
Jim shared his hopes
and fears as he grappled
with the challenges of
filming the natural world.
From afar, Jamie could only imagine what
it must be like living in the wilderness.
It was the beginning of a correspondence
that would last for seven years.
Friday, June 28.
Dear Jamie, it's early morning at Wolf
Camp.
The weather is clear and cold.
In the low 30s last night.
And the mountains behind camp look
spectacular.
Earlier, as we made a fire, a lone wolf
was howling.
Along with the two adults, my crew and I
are also raising four wolf puppies.
It's exhausting feeding them around the
clock, but they're doing incredibly well.
For Jim, it's a time of wonder and worry.
Can he really assemble a wolf pack?
What might the future hold as
tiny pups leave the nursery and
grow into one of the animal
kingdom's most powerful forces?
A pack of wolves.
By 12 weeks, the pups at the Dutcher wolf
camp display distinct personalities.
One named Lakota is very
shy, while his lookalike brother,
Kamats, is the most alert
and curious of the litter.
It seems to Jim that little Komats has the
confidence and spirit of a natural leader.
As the weeks pass, Jim notices that Komats
is becoming increasingly dominant,
taking charge over a deer leg to drive
away his siblings.
Since adult wolves generally welcome pups
into a pack, no one expects a problem when
it's time to introduce them to a kai and
makui.
But there's a surprise, one that reveals
the true complexity of wolf behavior.
The pups can barely contain their
excitement.
Jim hopes the two adults will pair up and
become foster parents.
But as the pups bound in, the adult
female, Makui, slips away silently.
Akai, the adult male, asserts himself and
tries to impose some order.
But Makui, to Jim's amazement and concern,
wants no part of the pups.
She disappears.
Makui remains hidden somewhere in the
woods.
As days go by, Jim and
his crew set out to find
her, concerned she
won't get enough to eat.
She is so determined to stay hidden,
it takes three days to spot her.
Jim can see she's okay for now,
but he's baffled.
Why is she avoiding the others?
Makui remains absent for weeks while the
new pack is developing a hierarchy.
But here, too, wolf behavior is proving
extremely complicated.
The drama unfolds whenever Jim delivers a
roadkill carcass.
Surprisingly, it is not the adult Akai who
dominates, but young Kamats.
The stability of a wolf pack depends on a
single leader called the alpha male.
Jim begins to realize that it's not a
matter of age or size, But something
innate that drives one wolf to take
command of all the others.
None of the wolves, not
even Akai, is challenging
young Kamats as he
asserts himself like an alpha.
When Makui finally comes out of hiding,
she seems too afraid to join.
Jim grows increasingly worried about her
behavior.
The rocky mountain
winter settles in, burying
Wolf Camp under a
thick blanket of snow.
Somewhere beyond, McCouey remains alone.
To mirror normal wolf feeding patterns,
Jim and his crew bring in carcasses of
deer, elk or antelope every five days or
so.
Wolf pups must grow quickly to survive
their first hard winter in deep snow.
The sawtooth young are now almost adult
size.
Food prompts excitement, but Kermot's
presides.
No one eats without his permission.
From afar, Makui watches.
She appears hungry, as if she wants to
join in on the meal.
And the plate.
But she doesn't.
Increasingly worried about Makui,
Jim frequently takes elk meat to her.
Their meetings are too brief
for Jim, who hopes to gain
her trust and to discover
why she has become a loner.
The notion of a lone
wolf is largely A wolf
normally remains solitary
only for a short time.
Jim spends the winter
trying to befriend McCouey,
hoping to figure out why
her behavior is so unusual.
A wolf's every impulse tells it to be part
of something larger, to belong to a pack.
Its identity is completely intertwined
with that of its family.
With each visit, Jim is more convinced
that McCooey yearns for companionship.
Gradually, she allowed me closer, as if
enjoying the company of another being.
It was heartbreaking to think that I was
her only friend.
But at close range, Jim can see the
problem at last.
Her eyes are completely clouded over.
Is she fearful of the new pack because she
can't see them well?
And does she feel safer following trails
up here that she has probably memorized?
Jim knows there is something wrong with
McCooey's eyes.
He needs the help of an expert,
but doesn't know one.
He finally realizes he knows exactly the
right person to contact.
While Jim worries about an ailing wolf in
Idaho, Jamie is consumed with her work at
the National Zoo in Washington,
D.C.
His pulse is strong.
She has no idea that the
medical knowledge she
is gaining will have an
impact beyond the zoo.
Temperature looks good.
She is about to hear again from the
wolfman in the West.
Jim needs advice from someone with
veterinary experience.
Concerned about the wolves, Jim also just
needs to talk to a friend.
Dear Jamie, I know it's
been a long time, but I've
got a serious problem here
with an adult female wolf.
I'm in the yurt and she's howling so sadly
outside.
She seems to be a loner.
I've been trying to get close to her to
see what might be the problem.
I'm convinced there's something wrong with
her eyes.
It may be cataracts.
Have you any ideas?
I could really use some help.
It was obvious from this letter how much
Jim cared about these animals.
I suggested that he contact a veterinary
ophthalmologist to examine her eyes.
I knew that they had performed cataract
surgery on domestic dogs.
I just wish I could have been there to
help him.
Taking Jamie's advice, Jim
finds a top animal eye surgeon
and outfits Wolf Camp with
veterinary surgical equipment.
He fears that carting
McCooey off to a hospital could
deeply stress an animal
already full of anxiety.
He turns the tent into a field hospital.
It's okay, McCooey.
It's gonna be okay.
Okay, now, I'll get your dracopene
injection over here.
It's right here.
Watching the surgery, Jim reflects.
Filming the natural world, it is
impossible to know what direction the
story will take, especially when the subject
is an animal we know so little about.
The result is another surprise.
Mokui emerges with her eyesight restored.
But she never fully trusts Jim in the same
way.
Neither of the two adult wolves have grown
comfortable or accepted Jim.
Reluctantly, he decides to concentrate on
the yearlings and to find another home for
Mokui Kamatsu and the other yearlings knew
me from the moment they opened their eyes.
Their trust was absolute and understood.
I knew deep in my heart that the future of
the sawtooth pack
A dark female named Mataki catches Jin's
eye.
In the emerging hierarchy of the
yearlings, Mataki has been relegated to
the role of Omega, lowest-ranking member
of the family.
At the bottom of the pecking order,
Mataki is part scapegoat for the pack's
aggression, part clown, forever diffusing
tension by initiating play.
The omega is an important
member of the pack,
not an outcast, but it's
always on the bottom.
Though Mataki's role as
a jester is appreciated by
the wolves, her low rank
is made clear at every meal.
Kamatsu and the others eat first.
Mataki must always eat first.
Sometimes,
as if to avoid trouble, Motake wanders off
alone.
She is less than a year
old and not very savvy about
dangers lurking beyond
the protection of the pack.
When Motake fails to show up one day,
Jim goes looking for her.
What he finds is his worst nightmare.
The gentlest, most playful member of the
pack was dead.
Who or what had done this?
For a moment I feared the killer might
still be nearby, watching me.
I tried to think.
Maybe a cougar was responsible.
Some of Motoki's fur had
been removed, something I
had observed while
filming a cougar and its kill.
I found wolf claw marks and a telltale
sign, some of Mataki's fur.
I think the pack found a killer
in this tree and tried to claw
their way up to get the cougar
that had killed their sister.
The death of Mataki has a profound effect.
The rest of the wolves
seem listless, mired in a
deep depression through
spring and into the summer.
Their howling takes
on a mournful, searching
quality, as if they are
trying to call Mataki back.
Mataki's death really affected Jim deeply.
Her loss and the mournful state of the
pack was devastating.
After losing sweet-natured Mataki, Jim
wonders how he can raise the pack's spirit.
There is one perfect way.
Jim decides to expand the pack and enliven
it with three new pups.
The young wolves went beyond just
accepting me.
They bonded with me,
and as detached and
scientific as I tried to
be, I bonded with them.
Wolf Camp is serenaded by new voices.
As Jim begins to
chronicle their emerging
personalities, one spirited
beige male catches his eye.
Unaware the pup will grow up to be the
pack peacemaker and his favorite,
he names him Matsi, Blackfoot for sweet
and brave.
At 16 weeks, the pups join the others.
Instinctively, they recognize
the dominance of the
adults and drop down
submissively in their presence.
Kamats leads them on a tour of their new
home.
Jim can see a new hierarchy developing.
The rankings are sorted out over food.
Kamats presides, but at
times he just observes, as
if curious about the power
struggles taking place.
The young wolf Jim calls Matsi seems
bolder than the other pups.
He even drives away Lakota, the brother of
Kamats.
Despite Lakota's imploring looks,
Kamats never intervenes.
As the second autumn passes,
Jim wonders if the yearlings will
form the stable pack he had
hoped for with Akai and Makui.
One day, Kamats approached me,
but instead of trotting off as he usually
did after greeting me, he sat down next to
me.
In a gesture I'd never seen before,
he raised his paw.
I held my hand out to meet it,
and we just sat there.
At that moment, I knew everything was
going to be all right.
I realized that the one
who would stabilize the
pack and make the whole
project work wasn't me.
It was Kamats.
Another winter descends, imposing bitter
cold.
The deep snow is an
obstacle to filmmakers, but a big
white playground to wolves
wearing thick new coats.
Though Kamats the alpha appears to play
aggressively, when he inadvertently knocks
a yearling over, he returns, as if to
apologize.
To Jim, it seems that the
confidence Kamats possessed
in youth is blossoming
into a calm benevolence.
He is more alert than the
others, with a look that seems
to convey the intelligence
and concern of a leader.
Dear Jamie, at last things are beginning
to look a little bit more positive.
We just had our first snowstorm,
and the pack loved it.
More importantly, I'm starting to see some
new behavior.
I wish you could see how Kamatz takes care
of his pack.
I suppose we all have moments in our lives
that are milestones.
I was stopped by Jim in the aisle of an
airplane, a brief and pleasant meeting,
that turned my life upside down seven
years later.
Jim's letters to Jamie had continued since
their brief meeting.
Letters about wolves and snowstorms, wild
puppies and minus 40 degree temperatures.
They had interests in common, but a
continent between them.
Then, a letter changes Jamie's life.
Jim asks her to come meet the wolves and
see if she might like living in Idaho.
What can I say?
I was being asked to go live in an ice-cold
tent on the other side of the continent.
It was crazy.
But by then, I knew I loved Jim.
So I went.
In her early thirties, Jamie leaves behind
her Maryland home and her career.
Gambling that life
among wolves in Idaho will
be more like the life she
dreamed of as a child.
A life of wild animals and adventure.
As she's about to find out, she has no
idea how adventurous it will be.
Yesterday, home for Jamie was a suburban
house outside Washington, D.C.
Now, it is a tent, surrounded by snow,
without electricity, water, or plumbing.
It's called a yurt, a
round tent traditionally
used by Mongolian nomads
to endure hard winters.
It's about 16 feet in
diameter with a conical
roof that withstands
the weight of deep snow.
One room, few comforts, middle of nowhere.
But the backyard is glorious.
For Jamie, it feels like her dream is
coming true.
Idaho was hardly the far-off and desolate
land it had once seemed.
I have to smile to
myself thinking back on
how foreign and scary
it had been in my mind.
It immediately felt like home.
A beautiful home.
As Jim took me to meet the
wolves, I sensed that I was
regaining something I once
felt as a child in the natural world.
It had begun to fade from my life, and so
had the dream of living with wild animals.
Now it was coming true.
I knew the wolves from Jim's letters.
I just hoped they would accept me.
Jim had a special relationship with the
wolves.
You could see it.
The pack trusted him completely.
He never tried to approach
them when they were not
in a social mood, and he
never treated them as pets.
From
the moment I met Jamie, I
just knew that she would fit
in, not just into the project,
but into my life as well.
When she was introduced
to the wolves, she instinctively
knew that everything
had to be on their terms.
Each of the wolves
wanted to meet me at once,
licking absolutely
every inch of my face.
I quickly learned to keep my mouth closed
during these greetings, which was
extremely difficult to do because the urge
to burst into a smile was overwhelming.
Jamie notices that one wolf is shy and
stays away.
Jim explains that the
role of Omega has been
forced on Lakota
since the loss of Mitaki.
Jamie is drawn to the plight of this
reticent and meek wolf.
Lakota faces the unyielding rule of his
own brother, the alpha.
Kamat can be benevolent, but he is always
supreme.
His command over a carcass is unyielding.
He alone decides who will eat when,
and Lakota, by rank, must eat last.
Lakota tries to approach the carcass
unnoticed, before his turn.
But Kamats must reinforce the rules of
status, which ensure pack stability.
He refuses to let his Omega brother near
the food.
His attack is meant only as a warning.
An alpha rarely harms a pack member.
Mid-ranking wolves constantly seek
dominance over one another.
Kamats is the arbiter of all disputes,
putting each in his place.
Lakota takes a new tack,
hoping to make himself so
insignificant that no
one will notice him eating.
He prostrates himself before Kamats,
whose attention wanders.
Perhaps Lakota can snatch a quick bite
before the others see.
It doesn't work.
For weeks, Jamie watches Lakota play his
omega role.
She notices something
not readily apparent,
because Lakota often
remains so low to the ground.
The ever-submissive Lakota is actually
bigger than his brother Kamats, the alpha.
Can a wolf born with such a yielding
personality ever hope to escape being the omega?
The mysteries are only beginning.
At Wolf Camp, the winter sun slips behind
the peaks by mid-afternoon.
Home life in a frozen wilderness comes
down to the basics.
Firewood provides the only warmth.
Lanterns and candles, the light.
Evenings are spent as if living in a
canvas cocoon, Surrounded outside by
wolves and icy mountains and the hush of
falling snow.
To Jim and Jamie, the modern world seems
far away.
Neither can imagine wanting to be any
place else.
At the end of the day, they heat creek
water on the wood stove.
It makes possible the
one luxury they permit
themselves in a world
so far from civilization.
A hot shower.
Despite the sub-zero winter
temperatures, the wolves
seem as if they couldn't
care less about the cold.
Exploring, the wolves
notice bubbles beneath the ice
and grow frustrated when
they're unable to reach them.
But neither ice nor snow penetrates their
double layer of fur.
Their outer coat of long hair blocks the
wind and gives them their particular color.
Underneath, they all have the same gray
coat of wooly, insulating fur.
Their keen sense of smell detects things
hidden in the snow.
Not exactly big game,
nor a filling meal,
but wolves are born
to hunt, no matter what.
In contrast to the natural comfort of a
wolf in winter, life for Jim and Jamie is
a kind of endless series of chores
performed in constant, finger-numbing cold.
The roof has to be cleared frequently.
Snow cleared from the roof has to be
shoveled.
A simple trip for firewood means donning
snowshoes.
And then there are the
holes The snow falls and roots
hidden beneath the snow and
the wood must still be fetched.
Temperatures stay below zero for long
periods and snowfall reaches 200 inches.
The wolves watch as
if greatly entertained by
Jim and Jamie's attempts
to cope with winter.
Some chores, like getting water for the
shower, are important but not essential.
Keeping the path to the outhouse clear is
essential.
They keep the stove going all day to warm
the yurt.
When the fire dies at night, the icy chill
of winter engulfs Wolf Camp.
Through the winter, the
Dutchers rethink the design of Wolf
Camp, which leaves them
quartered outside the wolves' territory.
The old camp always had shortcomings.
The fence was a barrier between the wolves
and us.
The wolves could hear us at camp,
but couldn't see what we were up to.
Joining them would always alter their
behavior.
They were that curious.
This is a beautiful place.
With the coming of spring in
1994, Jim and Jamie decide to
move their living quarters
inside the wolves' territory.
Without Jamie, I might not have made the
move.
But her enthusiasm refueled the project.
She had a hunch that living with the
wolves would improve our observations.
And she was right.
They relocate the yurt atop
a platform so they will have
a better view of the comings
and goings of the pack.
The change is dramatic.
They are no longer living near the wolves,
but among them.
They aren't intruders, just part of the
pack's everyday surroundings.
The wolves actually pay less attention to
them and behave more naturally.
Jim and Jamie's film and photographs grow
even more intimate and revealing.
There is, however, one thing missing from
the project.
Since the year of Mataki's death,
there's been no female in the family.
To observe the birth of a new litter would
be an extraordinary opportunity.
To do that, they will need a female.
Three new pups are adopted.
Two are females.
Gender seems to matter little when it
comes to their inborn mischief.
Caring for the little ones is a 24-hour
job.
The crew is eager to get them out of the
tent.
The pups are ready to explore.
And the rest of the pack,
excited by the sound
of young voices, is
impatient to meet them.
Two seem bold and spirited, Wayakin and
Wahats.
While the timid black
female, Shamuk, often keeps
to herself, watching her
brother and sister play.
The youngsters quickly try to act like
grown-ups.
On the day they introduce
the new pups to the
pack, Jim and Jamie
worry about little Shamuk.
She seems fearful of mixing with the
adults.
Shamuk watches, while Bahats and Wayakin
are quick to integrate themselves.
Instinct tells them to
get low, submit to the
adults and gain Shemuk
remains wary and keeps away.
The Dutchers wonder if she might be an
omega in the making.
Or worse, that she might be ostracized by
the pack.
But their fears begin to recede as weeks
go by.
Shemuk isn't as assertive as the others,
but she does begin to join them in play.
Watching Jamie play with the pups,
I could see how gentle and caring she was,
how easily she had gained the pack's
respect, and how lucky I was.
At that moment, I did what I should have
done so many years before.
I asked Jamie to marry me.
With both pups as witnesses, Jamie says
yes.
She has found happiness
with Jim and the wolves
and has regained a part
of herself she nearly lost.
From their new vantage
point inside the enclosure, the
Dutchers watch a drama
unfold among the three new pups.
One, it seems, has provoked the
displeasure of the alpha.
Ordinarily, the young are welcome to join
the rest of the pack over a meal,
and that's the case with Bahats and
Wayakan.
But for fearful Shamuk, it's a different
matter.
Kamats makes it clear that she has to
wait, like Lakota, the Omega.
So much of a wolf's social position
depends on a show of confidence.
The Dutchers sometimes wonder if picking
on a timid wolf is a way to encourage the
aggressiveness needed for survival in the
wild.
The more assertive pups
are allowed to gorge, but
they know they eat at
the pleasure of their elders.
But Shamuk's nature seems to make her a
target for kamats.
Each wolf occupies a rung of the social
ladder.
Often there are two omegas, a male and a
female.
Jim and Jamie begin to think Shamuk is
destined to be the female omega.
Motsi, whose boldness as a pup caught
Jim's eye, is now the beta wolf,
second-in-command and also the pack
babysitter.
Always keeping an eye on the young,
Motsi is their caretaker and educator.
I wanted to be an impartial observer,
but Lakota the Omega touched my heart.
Always trying to please
his brother the Alpha,
hunched over, tail
tucked in submission.
I began spending a lot of time documenting
Lakota.
I noticed that although the pack always
picked on him, They clearly cared about
him, especially Moxie, who would stand by
making sure Lakota was okay.
I realized there's a lot going on in the
inner lives of wolves.
I kept trying to film Jamie and Lakota
together.
But every time I would turn the camera on,
Lakota would become nervous and move away.
Jim experiments in an effort to make
Lakota more comfortable.
He replaces the movie camera with a
smaller still camera and sets up further
away, hoping to capture the growing bond
between the Omega and Jamie.
Lakota took a big risk spending time with
me.
If the Pack had caught him getting special
attention, they would have attacked him.
But sometimes we would just sit together.
Once he took his paw and
he gently placed it on my
shoulder and gazed at me with
those wise amber eyes of his.
We sat that way for quite a while.
From that moment I was
captivated by him and I knew
he would forever hold a
special place in my heart.
With the Dutch's move into the wolves'
territory, the human and wolf worlds merge.
Because Jim While Sam and
Jamie are living with the pack,
they witness behavior they
couldn't have seen otherwise.
For example, the comedy
routine that takes place
with food between Wayakan
and her brother Wahats.
Thinking no one is looking, greedy young
Wayakan sneaks away with meat.
Unaware, Wahats is watching.
She quietly hides her secret stash in the
bushes.
Wahats tails her silently, perhaps
suspicious of her bulging belly.
But Wahats figures out that if he waits,
his sister will do all the work.
As soon as Wayakin leaves, Wahats dashes
in and eats the hidden meat.
From then on, Wayakin is always bewildered
when she can't find her stash,
unaware that her brother is outwitting
her.
Some winters are cold, but some are
brutal.
The Dutchers are consumed by daily chores
and by life with the wolves.
Half a decade will pass as a blur of
seasons.
Winter cold seems to melt suddenly into
summer heat.
Summer is quickly winter again.
But there is music accompanying the
passage of time.
An ancient music of the wild.
Sound recordist for the
films, Jamie spends her spare
time accumulating an
archive of the pack's howls.
She finds that she can identify individual
wolves by their unique inflections.
Surprisingly, Lakota had the most
beautiful howl.
Eyes shut and head thrown back,
he would just pour his heart out,
rich, mournful, lonely and sad.
I felt as if I were
listening to him sing the
blues, giving voice to
the despair of an omega.
Jamie believes that
wolves are so intelligent
that they can communicate
in complicated ways
Each was an individual in
personality and voice, but needed
to feel forever linked with
his companions in the pack.
They constantly rubbed
and licked one another
as if to reassure
themselves of this closeness.
Even competitive wrestling was a way of
reinforcing that each Each had a place in
the pack structure, that they were a
united family.
It is at last clear to Jim and Jamie that
the project is succeeding.
The pack is now a cohesive family.
Most importantly, the wolves trust their
human friends.
We had names for each, but they didn't
know that.
We didn't approach the pack.
The wolves came to us only if they chose
to.
It made their friendship all the more
rewarding.
Kamats was in charge, but he could be just
as playful as the others.
I'd come to admire After years of watching
him lead, to be accepted by him,
to be worthy of his attention, and maybe
even affection, was an overwhelming honor.
Early on, the Dutchers learn that the
wolves rarely sleep through the night.
To capture the full range of pack
vocalizations, Jamie sets up an outside
microphone Jamie has been wired to sound
gear in her bed.
Even when howling breaks out in the middle
of the night, she's ready to record.
Wolves howl at any time, day or night.
Sometimes in response to a distant sound.
Sometimes to check on one another.
Jamie believes wolves howl for more
reasons than we can know.
Often the whole pack rallies together and
starts a game of tag, playing in the dark,
unmindful of the bone-chilling cold.
Their nightly singing became
as soothing as rainfall on
a window, an ancient sound
of the earth, of life itself.
The singing would
end, and the pack would
settle down, leaving
the world silent again.
I would fall asleep wanting this magical
life to go on forever.
Winters in the mountains
of Idaho are marathons
of endurance for Jim
and Jamie Dutcher.
The valley surrounding Wolf Camp,
chilled by high altitude and sweeping
winds, is one of the coldest spots in the
United States.
To get warm, the Dutchers must
occasionally go indoors.
But so little body heat
escapes a wolf's thick
coat that snow does
not even melt on its fur.
They can lie completely exposed to the
fury of winter.
No matter how severe the
weather becomes, Jim and Jamie
are always amazed to find
the pack completely unaffected.
Sometimes the wolves curl up and sleep
through the worst storms.
They never seek shelter in a den or under
trees.
They seem a perfect animal for winter.
Not only are they blase
about the cold, they
greet fresh snow as if
it's a gift from heaven.
Some new surprise that always puts them in
a mood to play.
Two of the most fun-loving are the young
female Wayakin and her black sister,
Shamuk.
Once shy, but increasingly rambunctious
and assertive.
The Dutchers believe that Kamatz will soon
pick one to be his mate, to become the
alpha female and the mother of the pack's
first litter.
Jim and Jamie still feel Shamuk might
become an omega, like poor Lakota.
But they know better than to predict wolf
behavior.
In fact, the caretaker Matsi
has begun to discipline Shamuk's
siblings, enabling Shamuk
to begin moving up in rank.
So far, Kamat seems more interested in
snow than in choosing a mate.
Usually, only two in a wolf pack will
mate, the alpha male and female.
Yet all sense that something important is
about to happen.
There's an electricity in the air.
It may be the dead of winter, but the heat
of the mating season approaches.
As January turns to February, Jamie
notices a distinct change in Shamuk.
She grows even more assertive and less
timid.
Everyone is on edge.
Only the alphas mate, but all of the
wolves experience the urge to reproduce.
The pack remains
friendly to them, but Jim
and Jamie sense the
mood turning more serious.
As if the wolves know a turning point is
coming.
Will Kamats choose the watchful Shamuk?
Or the female the
Dutchers believe better
suited, Wayakan, who
is larger and livelier?
One day it is obvious to Jamie,
from the intensity of the pack and their
vocalizations, that the females have gone
into heat.
The situation is not lost on Kamats.
Suddenly, Kamats makes his choice clear.
It is little Shamuk to the Dutchess'
surprise.
And perhaps to hers as well.
From that moment on, Shamuk's life and that
of the entire pack changes dramatically.
The shy female expected to
become an omega has risen
instead to the role of alpha
female, the mate of the leader.
Since wolves usually pair for life,
Shamuk will reign supreme over the other
females in the pack, Effectively becoming
the queen mother of the family.
If her story had unfolded in the fairytale
world, little Shamuk would be Cinderella.
Wayakin had seemed the likely princess.
Now she could only watch.
And so the wait begins, to see if the
tender rituals of courtship will lead to
the first pups produced by the sawtooth
pack itself.
In the third week of April, in a hidden
forest den, a litter of pups is born.
Shamuk, the new mother,
feeds them for nearly a month in
seclusion, barring even the
pack from visiting the den.
The question is, will the high-strung young
female allow Jamie to inspect her new pups?
I scanned Shamuk's
face for any trace of
distress, but she just
looked at me curiously.
She would surely have
attacked anyone else, but we had
developed a strong trust
since she was a pup herself.
When she left the den, it seemed a sign
that I was permitted entrance,
which really touched me.
There was only one way to find out if I
understood her signals.
Shumuk just watched me, as if she was proud
to show off what she had accomplished.
There was no detectable odor.
Shumuk knew how to conceal her pups from
predators by keeping a tidy den.
I could make out three little heads.
Your mom's waiting outside for you.
Yeah, you're so cute.
Look at you.
Yeah, you're tiny.
The pups almost looked like little bear
cubs.
They were endearing and inquisitive,
like most young and innocent animals.
They sniffed the air and chirped at me.
Maybe they thought I was there to feed
them.
I stayed less than a minute.
It was an honor just to get a glimpse.
Until her pups can see
clearly and walk steadily, a wolf
mother keeps them under
her constant watch in the den.
Food for the nursing mother is left
outside by the rest of the pack.
I was amazed by
Shamuk's display of absolute
trust, allowing Jamie to
crawl right into her den.
Then, over the next
several weeks, she continued
to give Jamie access
to her precious litter.
At four weeks, the pups are allowed to
venture out and explore.
There are two females and one male,
all black like their mother.
They are the first wolves born in the
Sawtooth Mountains in 50 years or more.
The arrival of new family members pleases
all of the wolves, but two in particular.
Matsi, the beta male, assumes the role of
caretaker and puppy sitter, as he has with
previous litters, even keeping a closer
eye on the pups than their mother does.
But perhaps the most inspired adult is a
male named Amani.
Always spoiling for a fight with the other
mid-ranking adults, He is completely
gentle with the pups, like an indulgent
uncle.
He doesn't seek to be their teacher or
protector, only their playmate.
The new litter brings out the complex
personalities of the wolves.
Amani is the first to pick on the Omega.
Yet nothing the pups can do bothers him.
The joy of youngsters seems to infect and
enliven the entire pack.
But for the Dutchers, it's a time of
growing concern.
The wolves will soon need a permanent
place to live.
Jim invites Carla High Eagle of the Nez
Perce tribe to wolf camp.
Over several years, Jim and the Nez Perce
have discussed moving the pack to a
similar situation on tribal lands, when
the Forest Service permit expires here.
Now, that time is approaching.
None of them will come to us if we ask
them to.
Everything is on their terms.
And this is the Omega?
Yeah, and he's at the bottom of the pack,
where Kamats is the leader.
Even though we have names of these wolves,
they don't respond to their names.
I don't think they even know their names,
but it keeps them straight.
Impressed by the tribe's involvement in
efforts to bring wild wolves back,
Jim believes the Nez Perce would provide a
safe future for the pack.
In late summer, potential
tragedy intensifies Jim
and Jamie's concern for
the welfare of the pack.
A major forest fire in the
Sawtooth crosses a ridge
above them and for a time
seems headed for Wolf Camp.
All the Dutchers can do is watch and hope.
Fortunately, the fire is controlled.
But the engulfing smoke
and the approaching
deadline on the land
permit prompt the decision.
It is time to find a permanent and safe
home for the Sawtooth pack.
The Nez Perce offer
to give the pack a home
on their tribal lands
when the permit expires.
For Jim and Jamie, the news is
bittersweet.
The wolves will have a lasting home,
but after six years of living with them,
of knowing them as friends, it won't be
easy to say goodbye.
We filled those final summer
days just spending as much
time with the wolves as
possible, Hardly even filming.
We wanted to memorize every move they
made, every facial expression,
to imprint them forever in our minds.
On August 6, 1996, we set out for northern
Idaho, carrying the pack to their new home
on Nespers Land.
It was the saddest trip that I had ever
taken.
At its end, we would be leaving
not only the wolves, but also
the life that Jamie and I and
the wolves had created together.
Carla High Eagle welcomes the pack to the
tribal lands of the Nez Perce.
It's time to see their new home for the
first time.
Jim and Jamie decide to let the youngest
members of the pack out first,
so the adults would be comforted knowing
the pups were free and safe.
The first adult out is Kamats,
followed in turn by the rest of the pack.
But the Dutchers know
that the others will attack
the Omega if he were
to emerge ahead of them.
So Lakota must wait to be let out last.
A moment occurs with Kamats
that symbolizes the alpha's
devotion to his pack and
the solidarity of a wolf family.
Kamats returns to the
crate holding Lakota,
gently coaxing his
fearful brother to come out.
Kamats knew that Lakota would need some
encouragement, and he refused to lead the
wolves into this new territory until his
pack was complete.
Kamats wouldn't leave his brother behind,
Omega or not.
The pack explores with exuberance,
but caution.
Until certain there are no other wolves or
predators, they remain silent.
Sniffing every inch of the terrain and
listening to every new sound.
After several hours, one by one,
they return to the dutchers.
Almost as if sensing that the time had
come for a farewell.
The first was Lakota who licked us.
I'm going to miss you guys.
I wondered if he would ever escape the
role of Omega.
I hoped he would.
Then Kamats, the steadfast
leader, who made our
wolf project succeed and
won my heartfelt respect.
I will never forget you.
And Matsi, who touched me deeply.
The pack's caretaker and peacemaker.
I'm going to miss you, Matsi.
The one who looked after the young and
often defended Port Lakota.
You're going to be alright in this new
place.
They had been our life
and our close companions,
but in the end, they
were a wolf pack.
They had their own family, a good family.
Would they remember us?
Would they adapt to this unfamiliar place?
In wooded backcountry of northern Idaho,
on tribal lands of the Nez Perce,
Seasons pass for a wolf
pack, unaccompanied
for the first time by
Jim and Jamie Dutcher.
But the tribe sends news.
All are well, and there has been a big
shift in the hierarchy.
With the help of Matsi, the
peacemaker, Lakota has finally
escaped the role of Omega,
replaced by another adult.
From afar, the Dutchers can only imagine
Lakota's relief.
To give the pack ample time to grow
accustomed to life on their own,
Jim and Jamie stay away.
But after nearly a year,
the urge to see them and to
check on their well-being
can no longer be resisted.
But how will the wolves now feel about
them?
We were very nervous how the pack might
react to us.
We were afraid they might think of us as
strangers.
Their fears dissolved in a marathon of
licking.
It was wonderful to see them again.
Even after all this time, the wolves still
welcomed us.
That precious sense of trust between us
was still there.
And so was their affection.
I couldn't voice my feelings, but they
could.
The Dutchers have long hoped for the
return of wild wolves.
Conviction deepened by the years spent
with the sawtooth pack.
East of their Idaho home, they trek deep
into Yellowstone National Park.
In an attempt to restore
a native predator here, 30
wolves were reintroduced
to the park in the mid-1990s.
Their numbers have grown to
more than 200, and researchers are
finding their presence beneficial
to the ecology of the park.
Our hope is that the fear of wolves is
fading, The people are beginning to know
them as caring animals devoted to their
families.
Animals that deserve a chance to survive.
We believe the wolves of the Sawtooth Pack
were the forerunners of their wild
cousins, opening people's eyes, serving
as ambassadors from their kind to ours.
Wolves live only about seven to ten years.
In time, members of the sawtooth pack
begin to disappear.
When word reached me that Kamats had died,
I was devastated.
I don't believe I'll ever forget that
moment.
He was such a friend.
For three weeks after his death, a
single wolf was heard howling in the night.
I wonder if it was his brother,
Lakota.
As time passed, we lost more of the pack.
Lakota, my dear friend
Matsi, and we knew we
would have to say
farewell to all of them.
We hope they made a difference,
that their story helped their kind.
On an autumn day, Jim
and Jamie set out on a
mission of the heart, one
they have long avoided.
They head down the trail to the old site
of Wolf Camp.
There is no trace left of the camp.
The trails are overgrown where the wolves
once ran.
The hardest thing is
returning to wolf camp,
and for the longest time
we couldn't even do it.
As they near the old site of the yurt,
a remarkable surprise.
Jim finds a wolf track.
The sawtooth pack has been gone for years.
The track has to be that of a wild wolf
passing through here in the past few days.
By the size of the print, a large male.
It means that wild
wolves are back in the
wilderness of Idaho for
the first time in 50 years.
For Jim and Jamie, this
roaming wolf provides a
poignant close to the
story of the sawtooth pack.
They know that
wolves often travel great
distances following the
scent of other wolves.
This one had probably dispersed from a
reintroduced pack up north and was
traveling south to find a mate and start a
new family.
I wonder how the wolf
responded when he picked
up the fading traces
of the sawtooth pack.
Did he look around in silence,
wary of encroaching on their territory?
Or did he howl in hopes of joining them?
Perhaps he felt more comfortable,
assured by the scent of distant kin,
that this was wolf country.
I like to think that was the case.
That here, where we once lived with
wolves, he felt like he belonged.