Of books and bears – Harold Macy launches San Josef

The first time I hiked into San Josef Bay I was wor­ried about bears. Didn’t even see a track. The second time, I woke up one morn­ing and grog­gily wondered why Rick was mak­ing so much noise out­side the tent.

Turns out, Rick had gone to in­vest­ig­ate the sea stacks and a bear was wan­der­ing through camp. Luckily, all our food and toi­letries were safely stowed in an im­pro­vised bear-hang.

I’ve ex­plored San Josef two oth­er times via the prin­ted page. The first was at a week-long writ­ing work­shop at Strathcona Park Lodge. That’s where I met an­oth­er wanna be writer, Harold Macy.

One af­ter­noon, while Harold’s wife and two young sons went for a walk, I sat on the floor of their suite next to a stack of pa­per. Harold poun­ded away on an old IBM Selectric type­writer (com­puters were few and far between in 1986) as I read a draft of his work-in-progress.

I re­mem­ber the evoc­at­ive lan­guage and the strong sense of a wild, wet land­scape and the haunted, hope­ful char­ac­ters that in­hab­ited it. The ma­nu­script began with a man in an oil­skin coat row­ing. For thirty some years I pondered the U.S. civil war deserter’s fate once he reached the strug­gling Danish set­tle­ment on north­ern Vancouver Island in Canada.

This sum­mer I found out when Tidewater Press asked if I’d write a blurb for the back of San Josef. Harold’s story ig­nited memor­ies of my vis­its to the re­mote bay and of the writ­ing re­treat that launched my career.

But most of all, I was struck by the de­vel­op­ment of the plot and per­son­al­it­ies. Both had ma­tured like a boda­cious red wine. Within three pages, Harold cap­tures the soul of a man and the land­scape he finds him­self in.

San Josef is a deep and some­times dark nov­el where hope goes astray but is nev­er lost. The char­ac­ters are as com­plex as a spider’s web, the lan­guage po­et­ic and the en­vir­on­ment a tan­gible force.

Harold Macy is the au­thor of The Four Storey Forest, As Grow the Trees, So too the Heart. His short stor­ies have ap­peared in PRISM International, The Malahat Review , Orion and oth­er publications.

On Saturday, Oct. 26 Tidewater Press and Harold Macy will launch San Josef at the Courtenay and District Museum at 2 pm. in down­town Courtenay, BC.

Admission is free; stor­ies will be filled with Harold’s trade­mark hu­mour and the his­tory that in­spired this novel.

Takaya: Lone Wolf

In 2012, an ap­prox­im­ately two-year old wolf sud­denly ap­peared on Discovery Island, not far from the densely pop­u­lated mu­ni­cip­al­ity of Oak Bay on south­ern Vancouver Island, BC.

He’d prob­ably dis­persed from his birth pack on Vancouver Island and was look­ing for a mate and ter­rit­ory to call his own. But some­where along the way, he made a wrong turn and found him­self in an urb­an area. So, per­haps con­fused or spooked, he swam through chal­len­ging wa­ters to a small cluster of islands.

Wolves are highly so­cial an­im­als, so no one thought he’d stay. But, des­pite all odds, he has. For sev­en years he’s sur­vived – and thrived – in a loc­a­tion that has no oth­er wolves, no year-round source of wa­ter and no deer or oth­er un­gu­lates to hunt.

Cheryl Alexander has fol­lowed the jour­ney of the wolf she calls Takaya with her cam­era and heart for nearly sev­en years. The renowned wild­life pho­to­graph­er has watched him swim from is­land to is­land, seen him feed­ing on seals and listened to him howl to­wards the lights of Oak Bay.

On Friday, October 4, the story of this re­mark­able wolf and wo­man will air on CBC TV’s The Nature of Things. Takaya: Lone Wolf is an in­ter­na­tion­al co-pro­duc­tion, which will run on BBC, CBC and ARTE.

Cheryl was a won­der­ful re­source while I was re­search­ing Return of the Wolf and I can’t wait to see the doc­u­ment­ary fea­tur­ing her pho­to­graphs and in-depth know­ledge about this un­usu­al wolf.

Click here to view a trail­er of the documentary.

Photo by Cheryl Alexander

Small but big difference between wolves and dogs

There are, of course, many dif­fer­ences between wolves and dogs. Some are cog­nit­ive, such as a wolf’s will­ing­ness to be trained, while oth­ers in­clude phys­ic­al traits such as the predator’s ex­traordin­ar­ily long legs and huge paws.

A lot of phys­ic­al char­ac­ter­ist­ics have been spe­cific­ally cul­tiv­ated in dogs to en­hance their ap­peal to hu­mans. For in­stance, many people are at­trac­ted to dogs with floppy ears and short muzzles so breed­ers have se­lect­ively en­cour­aged these traits. Wolves have these en­dear­ing fea­tures as pups but, as they ma­ture, their ears be­come erect and their snouts lengthen.

A re­cent study found an­oth­er small but sig­ni­fic­ant dif­fer­ence between wolves and some dogs – their eye­brow muscles.

Whether they own a dog or not, many people are fa­mil­i­ar with that sad sack stare some dogs seem to be able to sum­mon at will. This is the look guar­an­teed to tug firmly on the hu­man heartstrings. And to of­ten foster for­give­ness for any trans­gres­sions that may have occurred.

This im­plor­ing gaze is gen­er­ated by a dog’s abil­ity to move a prom­in­ent muscle that runs along the out­er edge of the eye up and inwards.

Dr. Juliane Kaminski, a psy­cho­lo­gist at the University of Portsmouth in England, dis­covered this while try­ing to un­der­stand why some dogs are ad­op­ted from an­im­al shel­ters soon­er than oth­ers. Apparently, it’s all in the eyes. Those who used their lev­at­or an­guli oculi me­dial­is muscle were first out the door to a new home.

Researchers then stud­ied the fa­cial mus­cu­lature of ca­da­vers of sev­er­al breeds of dogs, as well as those of wild grey wolves. They found a pro­nounced eye­brow muscle in all of the dogs but not the wolves.

This arc­tic beauty has a typ­ic­al wolfish gaze and no sign of sad sack eyes.

Unlike short snouts and floppy ears, the eye­brow muscle was not in­ten­tion­ally in­tro­duced by hu­mans but evolved nat­ur­ally over 20,000 years or more of the hu­man and dog relationship.

Kaminski, who has con­duc­ted sev­er­al stud­ies on the ways hu­mans and dogs com­mu­nic­ate, notes that eye­brows play an im­port­ant role in hu­man body lan­guage. And though it’s not known if dogs move their eye­brow muscle on pur­pose, the res­ult def­in­itely ap­pears to at­tract humans.

 

 

When wolves kill sheep

One morn­ing earli­er this month a Wisconsin farm­er dis­covered three dozen of his sheep had been at­tacked by wolves. Some were ly­ing in the pas­ture; oth­ers had been car­ried over the fence. Some were dead; some had to be euthanized.

Scenes like this aren’t un­usu­al when it comes to wolves and live­stock. Depending on the size of an op­er­a­tion, los­ing thirty an­im­als, half a dozen or even one can severely af­fect the profit mar­gin. Finding in­jured or dead an­im­als takes an emo­tion­al toll, too. There’s also the re­duced sale value of oth­er an­im­als due to stress-re­lated weight loss, the time spent treat­ing in­jured an­im­als, live­stock that don’t con­ceive or abort due to stress and so on.

Hunting is learned be­ha­viour for wolves. Killing live­stock is much easi­er than tak­ing down wild prey and once done, is likely to con­tin­ue. Sometimes guilty pack mem­bers can be des­troyed soon enough to pre­vent oth­er pack mem­bers from learn­ing bad habits but of­ten the en­tire pack needs to be destroyed.

The prob­lem is killing wolves doesn’t al­ways work. Killing one or both of the breed­ing pair of a pack can splinter the so­cial or­der, which may res­ult in more an­im­als breed­ing and lead to more wolves, not less. Eliminating the en­tire pack simply opens up the ter­rit­ory for a new one to move in.

And killing wolves is com­plic­ated or im­possible if a farm is loc­ated in areas where wolves are con­sidered en­dangered and are thus pro­tec­ted by le­gis­la­tion. But some farm­ers are suc­cess­fully rais­ing live­stock in wolf coun­try; they rarely have prob­lems but neigh­bour­ing ranches do.

A key ele­ment of their suc­cess ap­pears to be live­stock guard­i­an dogs (LGDs). But there needs to be enough of them and a vari­ety of breeds.

Liesl Lockhart, co-own­er of Candll Lamb & Cattle Co., raises sheep and cattle in north­ern Saskatchewan near Prince Albert National Park where wolves are pro­tec­ted. The Lockharts usu­ally have around el­ev­en LGDs, a mix of five breeds in­clud­ing Great Pyrenees, Kangals and Anatolian shepherds.

If a predator’s close, one dog will sound the alarm in the pas­ture,” Lockhart ex­plains. “The Pyrenees will gath­er the flock to­geth­er in a tight group. They’ll stay with the sheep and bark. Then there’s a staggered line of dogs mov­ing away from the sheep to cre­ate a buf­fer zone. The Kangals are the ones that go out the fur­thest and chase the predators.”

The Lockharts have lost LGDs to pred­at­ors, es­pe­cially in the be­gin­ning when they didn’t have as many dogs or breeds as they needed. As well as pur­chas­ing ad­di­tion­al LGDs, they began us­ing spike col­lars. These, they found, pro­tect the dogs from that of­ten fatal bite to the throat.

LGDs aren’t enough on their own; oth­er strategies are also re­quired. These can in­clude elec­tric fen­cing, fladry (red flag­ging) and noise makers like ra­di­os. Some ranches em­ploy old-fash­ioned range riders who keep the herd close to­geth­er and whose very pres­ence can de­ter a pred­at­or. Sometimes a gov­ern­ment agency will mon­it­or a collared wolf in a nearby pack and let a farm­er know when they need to step up their protection.

Louise Liebenberg and her hus­band raise sheep, cattle and horses on Grazerie, Canada’s first pred­at­or-friendly ranch. Liebenberg gives present­a­tions through­out North America and Europe on rais­ing LGDs and co-ex­ist­ing with wolves.

The ranch has lost one ewe and one calf to wolves over the last ten years, mostly due to a hu­man man­age­ment er­ror. Liebenberg usu­ally un­der­stands why an in­cid­ent has oc­curred and al­ters their man­age­ment plan to pre­vent it from hap­pen­ing again.

You can’t just use one man­age­ment sys­tem all the time due to ha­bitu­ation; you need to com­bine vari­ous meth­ods,” she says. In 2017, a wolf gave birth to sev­en pups in the middle of the farm. “It was very stress­ful and we had to be su­per vi­gil­ant un­til the fall when the pack moved on. Now I have to change my strategy to make sure that doesn’t hap­pen again.”

In Switzerland they have an emer­gency pro­gram to help farm­ers ex­per­i­en­cing prob­lems. A team of people show up with elec­tric fen­cing and LGDs and sup­port the farm­er un­til the wolves move on. They also teach the farm­er dif­fer­ent ways to pro­tect their livestock.”

As wolf pop­u­la­tions re­bound, many farm­ers are deal­ing with the pred­at­or after an ab­sence of 50 or 100 years. It’s a new era in live­stock pro­duc­tion that of­ten in­volves a steep learn­ing curve, as well as time and money to work out the kinks. Ranches that abut for­es­ted land will have more prob­lems and small op­er­a­tions will take a harder hit. As long as there are wolves, pred­a­tion will be a problem.

There’s no one solu­tion that fits all; each ranch needs a per­son­al­ized pred­a­tion pro­gram and must be pre­pared to modi­fy it over time. Fortunately, most, if not all can ob­tain fin­an­cial and/​or phys­ic­al sup­port from or­gan­iz­a­tions such as Defenders of Wildlife and the USDA Wildlife Services.

Photos cour­tesy Liesl Lockhart.