We can only make an educated guess as to the chill that ran down Georgia explorer William Bartram’s spine as he encountered this state’s red wolf population. True, he was a botanist, and I draw comic books, but the thrill of seeing these animals so couched in myth up close runs deep. Canonized as a symbol of ever-present sinister influence by old European folklore and nearly wiped out by sheep farmers riding the wave of American westward expansion, the wolf endures somewhere deep in the human psyche that preserves mystery, terror and awe.
Those native red wolves are all but banished to breeding programs throughout the southern United States and Mexico. Savannah’s Oatland Island Wildlife Preserve just shy of the intersection of Island Expressway and US 80 dedicates itself to the preservation of native Georgia species. The sanctuary is host to a family unit of Grey Wolves, the red’s larger and more recognizable cousin. Opened recently, their new wolf sanctuary invokes the experience of seeing these animals for the first time. The mock cabin with its educational video loop explaining pack dynamics and plexiglass displays of native critters like lizards, snakes and spiders as they would inhabit a kitchen or a workshop is an admirable compliment to the real attraction, a simple, floor-to-ceiling glass window to right upside the habitat. The naturalists at Oatland Island have an understanding of their star attraction.
The grey wolf is one of the flagship achievements of wildlife conservation since their reintroduction at near extinction to Yellowstone National Park in 1995. The members of the original Leopold pack have since all died, but their descendants and the other packs introduced to the area remain a controversial symbol for regeneration, and their image is revered by environmentalists, naturalists, and various free spirits across America. The pack at Oatland Island is a far cry from their wild ancestors, but even in their contented lifestyle free from the stress and savagery of wild pack life, the sight of them draws up deeply rooted feelings that stir the heart.
These are beautiful animals. Their presence at Oatland Island is necessary for research into their carefully tuned pack structure and social behavior. Wolves live in a hierarchical family unit led by a mated “alpha” male and female pair and their subordinates. Rank is indicated by posture, tail position and rigorously scripted behavioral codes that range from dominant aggression to what appears to the sentimental to be tenderness. The pack rears young as a group, cares for their sick and injured, and notoriously hunt as a pack. The most chilling aspect of the wolf that man has always feared may be their precision that borders on strategy in the orchestration of their kills. It is not the wolf’s teeth, as the old fable goes, that Riding Hood should fear most, but his cunning.
The late comedy genius and misanthrope George Carlin spoke admiringly about the wolf for its intelligence, independence, organization and loyalty, and had much less reverent things to say about the ranchers who killed them. This family of wolves, Oden, Cheyanne, Willow, Heron and the other constituent pack members inspire within me wild feelings of solitude and exploration. Just as I leave they howl for me, an eerie chorus that grips onto the untamed part of myself that is lost in the wilderness of human society. No musical contrivance can bring into such sharp focus the lonesome, taciturn America that I’m looking for than the primal, terrifying music of this pack. Oatland Island serves Savannah by keeping alive this pack. More than research, this pack’s continued existence shores up an America that turns its thoughts inward to know the terror of the undiscovered wilderness.
Illustration by Tori Spriggs
