Blog, Wolves | July 15, 2010
Perhaps because of relentless hunting, wolves are extraordinarily hardwired for fear. If you are not able to bond with them very early, a window is closed and humans are forever something to be scared of. Some wolves seem to be extra hardwired for fear and there is little you can do even if you do get them early.
In the case of Uinta, we didn’t get him early, and he was by nature an especially fearful wolf. He was presented to us as a high content wolf hybrid but his behavior was all wolf. He was unbonded, untrusting, and unhandlable.
Seeing him day after day, in fear; unable to run free because we were unable to get him to the Garden was a constant ache for us. Unwilling to see him consigned to a life in his enclosure, we decided to try something radical. We would tranquilize him, always a risk in a panicky animal - their fear pumps the adrenalin counteracting the drug if one gives too much trying to overcome it and they could die. Once down, we would put a short chain around his neck. That would give him a chance to get used to it and adjust himself to the feel, the drag, the sound of it, thus reducing some of the overwhelming stimuli when it came time to move him. Then when appropriate, we would clip on a longer chain with which we could walk him to the Garden.
We consulted with our vet for the best medication and dosage given the situation and his temperament and used a tranquilizer gun to give the medication. Finally we were able to fasten the chain.
He woke up and predictably panicked but as he wasn’t restricted by it, over the days we could see him adapting to it and easing. When the time felt right we entered and fastened a long chain to the short one. Enough for one day. We took it off and let him digest what happened – that in fact he lived and was unharmed. After several days of this we brought out his companion, Cucumber the self-styled House Wolf (see story). He adores her and we hoped her total trust in us would give him courage. I stood outside the enclosure with Cucumber while Jean put on the long chain and went out the gate. Utter panic. Four paws pushing frantically back against the gate and a tug of the chain. Suddenly, a great leap through and he was out! And – wonder of wonders - relatively calm. He sort of walked, with fits and starts and startled leaps, following Cucumber as she happily trotted towards the Garden. Then another gate. Cucumber jumped through and waited on the other side eager to be let free, but she had a job to do - she needed to stay near to let Uinta know it wasn’t a trap. More chaos, panic, Jean entering the gate with a leaping twisting panicked wolf behind him saying NEVER!! Then with a great leap he was in! And immediately in a state of wonder. It was as if he had suddenly entered another planet - one with soft, moist green grass; trees waving gently in the breeze, and freedom to run. There was such a look of amazement and joy on his face that I spontaneously started to cry. It was unbelievably poignant and beautiful. Cucumber raced around the Garden and he, despite the macho animal he was, looked to her for guidance in this new world as he explored, bit by wondering bit, getting into it more and more.
The next day there was a profound change in him. There was a light in his eye that was dramatically noticeable. There was a spring in his step and he was warmer towards us. I would like to report that it has gotten easier with time but it is sporadic. Some days it is relatively ok, and other days we have to leave it. But once out, he walks as if he had always walked on a leash, and once through the Garden gate there is sheer beauty and graceful running and unbounded joy. We will stick with it until the whole process is pleasurable for him. We will share the video with you when we get there.
Wolves | May 18, 2010
She was in her 17th year. We brought her in to our cabin several months ago to winter with us because she was so old and winter was so cold. She looked like she was pretty much done with life and we expected her to pass on in a matter of days, or a week or two. That was 5 1/2 months ago.
After a few days indoors she apparently began to trust that these were her new, luxurious living quarters and that life was good. She perked up. She explored. She ate with great interest (we must admit that we did feed her the tenderest juiciest morsels of a variety of treats). She took long, long naps ensconced on several layers of soft blankets on a heated floor. When she woke and struggled to her feet, her nose led her directly to the kitchen and the refrigerator. She was very surprisingly quick for someone who could barely walk, see or hear. Unless, of course, she wanted to … Several times when I opened the refrigerator, a roast was snatched before I could catch her and it was quite a big deal to get it back. A lot of determination.
We put her out for a few hours each day to get fresh air and she soon learned her way to the pen and back – mostly back. Then she began to discover that as we guided her back and forth, if she wandered a bit, we indulged her and she began to take advantage of it. Because she couldn’t exactly wander fast or far, or do much damage to anything, we were able to give her a freedom not possible when she was more mobile and alert. She took to wandering all over the ranch, we keeping an anxious eye to retrieve her in case she got into trouble as she was a bit “Alzheimerish”. Her very favorite wander was to the chicken run where she would stand on her rickety legs for hours watching wolf television.
All the indoor animals respected her age. Boychuk the German Shepherd; Talkeetna the malemute who took to giving her little licks on the nose, and even Cucumber the Bad Little House Wolf who had moved in two years ago and refused to leave. She would gladly have done in Talkeetna as a rival female, but was patient and accepting with Windsong. It was partly her age, but also because Windsong had always been a gentle soul. Not something to be said of Cucumber for example!
She settled smack in the center of the living room and into the center of everything, making it very clear that she had no intention of ever spending the night in the roomy cage we had placed there for her. She was stubborn in her old age. Very stubborn. She developed a look I have seen in elderly humans – a sort of not-to-be-deterred will as they wander their homes, cane like a warrior weapon, determined to get everything they can out of life. Some older beings get spiritual, some concentrate on eating and bodily comforts. That was clearly where Windsong was focused. I don’t mean to imply that there was little spiritual life – just that the focus in her old age was clearly physical enjoyment – she was going to get everything she could out of this unexpected windfall, and thoroughly enjoy all physical pleasure available to her during her last days on earth.
She left three days ago, unexpectedly. We got used to the idea of her wandering around so long that on some level we believed this was the way it would always be, fluffing her blankets, feeding her treats, retrieving her from corners of the property. Her energy is still here, but there is a void …
Windsong was Earthfire’s sister, one of a litter of seven that moved me; directed me, to found the Institute. No more will she raise her muzzle and sing to the winds of the earth. But we have these lovely images of her running and playing with her six brothers and sisters who left before her, the full pack once again reunited in joy. And we have Earthfire Institute to honor her and carry her voice onward to any humans willing to listen, be moved, enriched.
Animal Story, Blog, Earthfire Stories, Wolves | April 27, 2010
Watch this video of amazing healing sessions between humans and a resident wolf with a neurological disorder. One of many interactions at Earthfire Institute that deepens our understanding and connection with wildlife.
Cats | April 12, 2010
Swatworth the (self named) Magnificent was in a pickle. He had just been enjoying a nice bobcat outing with Jean, complete with periodic delicious treats from Jean’s pouch and all was well with the world. Then a diesel truck roared up the driveway and scared the kitty fur out of him. Without a thought he bolted out into our sagebrush field and disappeared. “Uh Oh!” thought the people we were walking with.
But they didn’t know Jean.
Or Swatworth.
Swatworth could play a good game of fierce independence (a VERY good game mind you).
Jean called. Nothing. He called again. Silence. Picking up a pet carrier, he started walking in the general direction where the panicked bobcat had flown, feeling for his presence. Getting warmer. Warmer. Sure enough he saw the twitching tail of a flattened cat hiding beneath some sagebrush ahead and to the right. Deliberately ignoring him Jean walked past.
That was just too much. Jean was ignoring him! (Plus — there went safety in this large scary field in the middle of nowhere.) Without turning Jean felt himself being followed. He walked on a bit, put down the carrier, threw in a piece of meat and kept on walking.
Swatworth entered the carrier, ate the meat, came out and continued to follow Jean, who made a big circle back to the carrier. Jean put in another piece of meat but this time he stayed. Swatworth casually entered, Jean gently closed the door, and that was that. Nothing was said about loss of majesty, nobility. Or of panicking. Swatworth was carried back, his dignity intact. The incident was never referred to again.
Animal Story, Deep Ecology, Ethics & Whole Community, Foxes, Wellness & Spirtuality | April 2, 2010
We visited Feather the red fox today after the deep snow of the night. She was her usual lovely sweet mischievous self, fur full and glossy. We brought her some guests, as she always likes to greet everybody, her little 
inquisitive black nose sniffing, examining, assessing. They were enchanted by her sweetness, agility, curiosity; by her eagerness to meet them and visit with them.
She is an elderly fox now, with the feel of wisdom that many living creatures seem to gain with age. Jean went to a fur farm some 11 years ago and bought her as a little kit. (It always astounds me that you can go “buy” a wild animal.) That is eleven years of life given to her; eleven years of life for that dancing diminutive piece of vitality. One out of 800 foxes!
So many questions: a Buddhist who visited her wondered aloud – what was her karma that she was picked out of 800 foxes, to come here and have a life? I don’t know, but I do know that she has done a splendid job helping people see the magic of foxes; of balancing the fact that yes they sometimes do eat chickens and cats. That difficult balance we have to find between loving a predator that is part of our family, say a cat, and also loving a predator that is not so close to us emotionally, yet acknowledging their right to live too.
So it comes down to family and tribal loyalty versus the recognition that we are all part of something larger.
Animal Tales, Bears, Wellness & Spirtuality | March 23, 2010
All winter we worried about Teton Totem and his severe back problem. How would he be? Would the long winter sleep aggravate it? What do we do with a nearly paralyzed 1000 pound grizzly bear?
We made him a special bed for his hibernation, lining his den with wood and then extra hay to make it softer and warmer and he could arrange it as he liked. With Penelope’s help with his back in the fall (see Bear Burrito, Blog November 2009) he was quite a bit better just before going to sleep for the winter but still we worried. What would the long period of inactivity do?
Teton emerged from his den recently – and he was using his hind legs! Not perfectly but the long sleep and stillness did him no harm. Not only was he walking, but he was sweet – sweeter than he had been in a long time. In fact there was an indescribably sweet and gentle look in his eyes. What a gift!! What a way to start spring!!
Deceased, Wellness & Spirtuality, Wolves | March 23, 2010
This is the story of Thunder, a timber wolf, who’s passing illustrates the mystery and wonder of nature and the strong bond between members of his species.
Buffalo | March 17, 2010
Nothing is simple.
Until we can finish landscaping, when we bring a wolf to the yurt for a weekly healing session we have to cross Bluebell’s territory and walking path. Because she is such a “watch” buffalo we first have to bribe and distract her. She wants nothing in her pasture that is new, uninspected and unapproved. She is quite clear about it. Humans – yes. MacDougal the Clydesdale – no choice. He is a lot bigger than she is and he lets her know it.
Foffy the mustang – Bluebell tolerates her because she’s able to dominate her and it makes her feel better after being humiliated by MacDougal. And after seven unhappy mutual years together they have reached an understanding — Bluebell tosses her head, Foffy runs. Very satisfying. But…. when there is fresh hay, Foffy sidles over to MacDougal to share his food, nickering, submitting and flirting skillfully and MacDougal cannot resist her golden female beauty. So she eats and enjoys his protection as Bluebell alternately longs, and glowers, a short distance away. All in all it is an arrangement that works.
We immediately feed Bluebell after MacDougal but he always takes the first helping no matter where we put it. Bluebell has to wait until we put another pile far enough away so that MacDougal feels it is not worth his time and energy to chase her away. He does sometimes, however, think her hay must be better and then there is a rapid switching of positions, MacDougal striding forcefully; Foffy following “meekly” behind, Bluebell snorting and making a wide circle back to where MacDougal was just eating.
But, should a wild coyote run across the pasture, that hapless creature would have 1,000 pounds of furry brown fury thundering after it. And a wolf on a leash? A suspicious character. Buffalo fodder. So we have to put her elsewhere with lots of hay.
However she has become much sweeter and more tractable since we lost her companion-buffalo, Rosebud. She is very lonely and has adopted humans as her herd, though we don’t come around often enough to really fill her needs.
We can count on it … any time we go to the yurt, within moments we hear crunch crunch crunch. Winding her way through the snow, she looks up the steps longingly at us. Bluebell then promptly lies down in the middle of 
the path so that we have to dig a passage in the snow to go around her. It breaks our heart so to see her looking up the steps — though we are happy she hasn’t decided to climb them and try to enter the door to join us. There wouldn’t be much left of the yurt. Interestingly, the other place we often find her is by the bear enclosures. Perhaps she likes the company of other big brown furry creatures. We are hoping to buy a baby from a buffalo farm if possible this year ( we are not allowed to accept orphans from the wild). We’ll keep you posted…
Blog, Wolves | March 11, 2010
Cindar was a 7 year old, beautiful black female wolf. She was very sensitive and smart. Jean and Susan called me because she was depressed and seemed ill. When I arrived she was weak and was breathing very rapidly. When I listened to her lungs with the stethoscope she had very little air moving through them. I was immediately concerned as to why such a seemingly healthy wolf was losing lung function so quickly. We decided that to get a better idea as to what was going on with her lungs, we needed to do a chest x-ray. The x-ray revealed fluid in the chest and very limited lung capacity. Some of the lung had no air in it at all. It was clear she had pneumonia but what would have caused it? Cancer? What sort of infection would be that rapid? We started treatment for pneumonia and I went home unsettled in my mind. In the middle of the night I suddenly sat up from a deep sleep and said – It’s a torsion! Lung torsion is quite rare and is seen mainly in very deep chested dogs like Afghans, which are similar to wolves in conformation with their narrow deep chest cavities. What happens is that one lobe of the lung twists around its base, which includes the airway and all the blood vessels. In a very short period of time the lobe starts to die. This process causes toxins to build up, and fluid to accumulate which further decreases the animal’s capacity to breathe. The only treatment is surgery, which is very complicated and has to be done by a specialist. Unfortunately the closest hospital able to perform the procedure on Cindar was in Salt Lake City. As soon as I realized it was a torsion we were dealing with Jean was in the car on the way to Salt Lake as Susan made arrangem
ents, but it was too late. Cindar died before reaching the hospital. This was a very difficult case to diagnose and to lose. Cindar’s lung had twisted well before she was showing any outward signs of distress. Wolves are so strong and so capable of hidingpain and illness it makes it very difficult to know if something is wrong until they are very ill. This was a very unfortunate case and I may never see another lung torsion again in my career because they are so rare but I will always keep it in the back of my mind because of Cindar and maybe I can save the next one.Maybe this article will help save an animal too. – Summer Winger DVM
Blog, Wellness & Spirtuality, Wolves | February 26, 2010
Whenever we lose a wolf from unknown causes we do an autopsy, to be sure our other animals are not at ri
sk and to learn what we can about better care. Cindar, a young, healthy wolf, died of a twisted lung – the equivalent of a colic in a horse. It is very rare. By the time it was diagnosed, though we rushed her off to Salt Lake City to a specialist, it was too late. As with any colic it is a true medical emergency and chances of survival are slim if not treated immediately. It made we wonder – why would a healthy young wolf die of such a rare illness? In discussing the loss with a healing practitioner, she told us that in some traditions each organ does not only its own job, and has its own vibration, but also carries the energy of a specific emotion. That emotion for the lung, is grief.
Our immediate thought went to possible causes here, but there were none that we could see. No recent losses, no changes. Then three of us looked at each other with the same thought – they started shooting wolves here in Idaho. And not just shooting them mindlessly, but rejoicing in their deaths, undisturbed by the obvious deep distress they are causing in the rest of the pack. Wolves are telepathic across distance among their own pack. We have clear evidence of that here. Is it possible they are feeling the distress of their kind in the vicinity as well, on another level? Death is one thing. Mindless death cruelly inflicted with intent is another, much harder to accept and heal from.
A further thought occurred – some animal communicators believe that illness and death can be a non -verbal communication. (Many psychologist believe that children who are not listened to communicate this way as well). Did she pick a devastating illness for which there was no cure, to emphasize that we need to do what we can to stop the shooting? And taking it even further outwards, to stop what we are doing to wild animals in general?
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Seeing him day after day, in fear; unable to run free because we were unable to get him to the Garden was a constant ache for us. Unwilling to see him consigned to a life in his enclosure, we decided to try something radical. We would tranquilize him, always a risk in a panicky animal - their fear pumps the adrenalin counteracting the drug if one gives too much trying to overcome it and they could die. Once down, we would put a short chain around his neck. That would give him a chance to get used to it and adjust himself to the feel, the drag, the sound of it, thus reducing some of the overwhelming stimuli when it came time to move him. Then when appropriate, we would clip on a longer chain with which we could walk him to the Garden.
Earthfire Experience with Bob Tondro
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