Most of us are familiar with Farley Mowat’s gripping and authentic account of the wild cousin of man’s best friend: the wolf.
There is no better symbol of the rapidly shrinking, untamed north country than the distant call of the wolf on a moonlit night. I experienced it while on assignment photographing pipeline installations for civil engineering. Unforgettable.
Naturally, I was appalled when I read about the killing of 84 wolves. A million-dollar machine against a running wolf. Isn’t that a bit of an unfair contest? It’s like killing a fly with a sledge-hammer.
But let us talk about the reason of it, and here I stand to be corrected for being somewhat ignorant about the facts.
Mountain caribou, the very word sounds like a contradiction to me. I was under the impression that Rudolf comes this far south only when he pulls a sleigh for Santa. Is it possible then that they should not be there in the first place, like man being on the moon, or anywhere else in space? (Technology out of control.)
Unlike us, Mother Nature doesn’t eradicate species for the fun of it – if at all. (Yes, yes, I know about dinosaurs.)
Could it be that wolves were challenging man’s interest and, of course, they cannot win, because we have that million-dollar machine. I am always a little dubious when we start controlling in these matters, it reeks suspiciously of conflict of interest. But like a said, I stand to be corrected.