scooter
04-28-2008, 01:11 PM
PUBLICATION: Calgary Herald
DATE: 2008.03.11
EDITION: Final
SECTION: The Editorial Page
PAGE: A10
COLUMN: Nigel Hannaford
BYLINE: Nigel Hannaford
SOURCE: Calgary Herald
WORD COUNT: 781
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Just how many wolves does one province need?; They would happily hamstring more cattle than they could eat
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If you are resolutely opposed to hunting, in all its forms and at any time, this column is not for you.
If, however, you agree mankind having invaded and thereby distorted Alberta's balance of nature might as well try to remediate the worst results, then you might also concede some hunting, for some purposes, is not merely permissible but actually has merit.
So it is with the University of Alberta's wolf-control experiment west of Rocky Mountain House -- an area with a high density of wolves, and "very disproportionate, almost historic lows of elk, mule deer and mountain sheep," in the words of Sustainable Resources Minister Ted Morton. The hope is prey and predator populations may be rebalanced by sterilizing male wolves, for instance.
First, though, a story. Days after starting as a reporter decades ago, I had the temerity to trash a similar plan in northeastern B.C. As the only wolf I had seen was roadkill up the Alaska Highway, my own knowledge was a bit limited, so I did the classic appeal to authority: that is, to Farley Mowat.
Mowat had written an engaging account of an Arctic wolf pack he had studied. Having named them, he noted their personalities -- the wise sire, the She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed female, the affable bachelor uncle with whose tail the delightful children, er cubs, would play -- and their eating habits.
Wolves, I learned, lived on small rodents: From herds of larger animals, they took only the weak and sick, thus performing a useful evolutionary function. And, as a family unit, they were no more or less dysfunctional than lots of people I knew. Certainly, their role as predator, with bloody fangs and piercing satanic gaze, seemed to have been grossly mythologized. What a crime, said I, to hurt these charmingly anthropomorphic beasts: Something akin to contemporary wolf-cull critic Paul Paquet's view of the U of A plan; "destructive and morally reprehensible."
Two things then happened.
First, a pickup showed up in Fort St. John, carrying two badly savaged cows to the slaughterhouse. Victims of a wolf pack, great chunks were missing from their haunches, and there was ripped flesh and skin everywhere: not a pretty sight. The rancher was holding a public meeting right there on the street demanding helicopter gunships, as I recall.
The second event was a blistering response to my tenderfoot article, from a longtime area trapper. Later, Norm Mackenzie and I were friendly. But, in this first encounter, he thundered whatever the truth of Mowat's Arctic vacation, the wolves in these 'ere parts were a rotten lot, that would hamstring more cattle than they could ever eat, just for the sheer satisfaction of chewing on bone. Why, only yesterday if you had but eyes in your head, you could have seen the mess the Upper Halfway pack had made of so-and-so's cows . . . Wolf families? Street gangs, more like, you blame fool.
There was more. Mackenzie was prolific as well as articulate, and later published a fascinating memoir of 60 years living off the bush.
He had me cold. I'd seen the cows. We met, and I got the other side of the story I should have had to start with, as he explained the circle of life.
First, the explosion in prey species. Then, the predators move in; with abundant food, they multiply until they eat themselves out of prey. Finally, the mass predator starvation, leaving the beleaguered prey to re-establish itself. "That is the balance of nature, if you care to call it that," said Mackenzie. "There is no easy death."
The issue in Alberta today is similar to what was happening in northeastern B.C. all those years ago: What happens when man barges in on the environment?
How does one manage the impact? Should one even try?
In the end, one finds it's just what one is personally comfortable with.
If the end of a predator population explosion is starvation, controlling it in the first place is arguably compassionate.
Ah, but the point of controlling wolves is just so hunters can shoot the elk instead, right?
Yes, and this is where it becomes a matter of opinion. If you don't care for hunting and hunters, let us agree to differ, for nothing I say is likely to change your mind.
But, if this is about animal suffering, a hunter's bullet is a better end for a moose than to be eaten alive by wolves. (See: http://isleroyalewolf.org/photo_essay/photo_essay/moosekill.html)
Meanwhile, hunting licences and fees feed millions of dollars into the provincial treasury every year, and hundreds of people make a living guiding non-resident hunters.
And Alberta has lots of wolves, one of the highest populations in North America.
Clearly, we value them. But, we also value other animals, and want them to flourish.
Nature taking its course is no guarantee they will, though. (Nor is it as beautiful in reality, as it is in theory: As Mackenzie put it, nature really is a mother.)
What has worked is hunting, and management. There need be nothing reprehensible about it, or even immoral. Indeed, in my book, and Mackenzie's, more elk in the freezer is a considerable moral good.
After all, how many wolves does one province need?
nhannaford@theherald.canwest.com
DATE: 2008.03.11
EDITION: Final
SECTION: The Editorial Page
PAGE: A10
COLUMN: Nigel Hannaford
BYLINE: Nigel Hannaford
SOURCE: Calgary Herald
WORD COUNT: 781
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just how many wolves does one province need?; They would happily hamstring more cattle than they could eat
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you are resolutely opposed to hunting, in all its forms and at any time, this column is not for you.
If, however, you agree mankind having invaded and thereby distorted Alberta's balance of nature might as well try to remediate the worst results, then you might also concede some hunting, for some purposes, is not merely permissible but actually has merit.
So it is with the University of Alberta's wolf-control experiment west of Rocky Mountain House -- an area with a high density of wolves, and "very disproportionate, almost historic lows of elk, mule deer and mountain sheep," in the words of Sustainable Resources Minister Ted Morton. The hope is prey and predator populations may be rebalanced by sterilizing male wolves, for instance.
First, though, a story. Days after starting as a reporter decades ago, I had the temerity to trash a similar plan in northeastern B.C. As the only wolf I had seen was roadkill up the Alaska Highway, my own knowledge was a bit limited, so I did the classic appeal to authority: that is, to Farley Mowat.
Mowat had written an engaging account of an Arctic wolf pack he had studied. Having named them, he noted their personalities -- the wise sire, the She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed female, the affable bachelor uncle with whose tail the delightful children, er cubs, would play -- and their eating habits.
Wolves, I learned, lived on small rodents: From herds of larger animals, they took only the weak and sick, thus performing a useful evolutionary function. And, as a family unit, they were no more or less dysfunctional than lots of people I knew. Certainly, their role as predator, with bloody fangs and piercing satanic gaze, seemed to have been grossly mythologized. What a crime, said I, to hurt these charmingly anthropomorphic beasts: Something akin to contemporary wolf-cull critic Paul Paquet's view of the U of A plan; "destructive and morally reprehensible."
Two things then happened.
First, a pickup showed up in Fort St. John, carrying two badly savaged cows to the slaughterhouse. Victims of a wolf pack, great chunks were missing from their haunches, and there was ripped flesh and skin everywhere: not a pretty sight. The rancher was holding a public meeting right there on the street demanding helicopter gunships, as I recall.
The second event was a blistering response to my tenderfoot article, from a longtime area trapper. Later, Norm Mackenzie and I were friendly. But, in this first encounter, he thundered whatever the truth of Mowat's Arctic vacation, the wolves in these 'ere parts were a rotten lot, that would hamstring more cattle than they could ever eat, just for the sheer satisfaction of chewing on bone. Why, only yesterday if you had but eyes in your head, you could have seen the mess the Upper Halfway pack had made of so-and-so's cows . . . Wolf families? Street gangs, more like, you blame fool.
There was more. Mackenzie was prolific as well as articulate, and later published a fascinating memoir of 60 years living off the bush.
He had me cold. I'd seen the cows. We met, and I got the other side of the story I should have had to start with, as he explained the circle of life.
First, the explosion in prey species. Then, the predators move in; with abundant food, they multiply until they eat themselves out of prey. Finally, the mass predator starvation, leaving the beleaguered prey to re-establish itself. "That is the balance of nature, if you care to call it that," said Mackenzie. "There is no easy death."
The issue in Alberta today is similar to what was happening in northeastern B.C. all those years ago: What happens when man barges in on the environment?
How does one manage the impact? Should one even try?
In the end, one finds it's just what one is personally comfortable with.
If the end of a predator population explosion is starvation, controlling it in the first place is arguably compassionate.
Ah, but the point of controlling wolves is just so hunters can shoot the elk instead, right?
Yes, and this is where it becomes a matter of opinion. If you don't care for hunting and hunters, let us agree to differ, for nothing I say is likely to change your mind.
But, if this is about animal suffering, a hunter's bullet is a better end for a moose than to be eaten alive by wolves. (See: http://isleroyalewolf.org/photo_essay/photo_essay/moosekill.html)
Meanwhile, hunting licences and fees feed millions of dollars into the provincial treasury every year, and hundreds of people make a living guiding non-resident hunters.
And Alberta has lots of wolves, one of the highest populations in North America.
Clearly, we value them. But, we also value other animals, and want them to flourish.
Nature taking its course is no guarantee they will, though. (Nor is it as beautiful in reality, as it is in theory: As Mackenzie put it, nature really is a mother.)
What has worked is hunting, and management. There need be nothing reprehensible about it, or even immoral. Indeed, in my book, and Mackenzie's, more elk in the freezer is a considerable moral good.
After all, how many wolves does one province need?
nhannaford@theherald.canwest.com