Saddle Sore: The state that cried wolf

Just by looking at various papers this week, it is obvious the lid has been blown off the wolf reintroduction program in the Roaring Fork Valley. In one week. It’s hard to say how many calves have been killed by wolves, just last weekend, simply because some cannot be found; others, critically injured, are hanging on, the outcome unclear.

Nature can be kind to producers of livestock, particularly cattle ranchers in the waning months of winter. Or she can be brutal. Probably the same for sheep ranchers. Calves start being born, usually late February through March, and it’s a steady procession of births until the last one hits the ground.

Ranchers, wives, sometimes children, and however many ranch hands one might have are on call during that time. Usually every hour, someone is checking on the calving grounds, eyes alert to birthing problems that occur, such as breech, forelegs or head turned back, or other issues requiring help from the human corner. It’s a brutal schedule that requires dedication, knowledge, and the ability to function with very little sleep.

Calves delivered, green grass coming on open pastures, and with a sigh of relief at a job well done, the rancher turns his cows and calves out from the calving grounds into sunshine, relaxation, and growth. He can grab a breath of fresh air, catch up on some sleep, maybe find time for family activities.

Wrong!

There’s a dead calf just outside the willows by the creek, killed by a wolf or wolves. Not a pretty sight, eaten from the tail-end, hindquarters, some backstrap and innards, as well. Face and front legs still intact, maybe the eyes pecked out by birds. You remember the night that little guy was born: -5 degrees Fahrenheit. Resilient little son-of-a-gun. You admired his tenacity, his will to stay alive. Tough, oh yes — tough enough to withstand the cold weather, but he didn’t have a chance against a marauding wolf or pack of wolves. 

They don’t die quickly. Likely still alive, he lies there, helpless with the back legs rendered useless, the wolves eating their way up, starting with the hindquarters. Afterwards, his mother is off to the side, barely standing, still shaking from exertion, doing everything she could to protect her baby. Her head, chest, and front legs are covered in mud, a tough battle she had very little chance of winning. For all practical purposes, she’s also dead, not killed, per se, but she’ll never breed back this year, maybe never again. And if she’s been bred, she’ll abort. A living creature can only take so much nightmare.

And the question immediately becomes, “Who made the decision to place wolves in Pitkin County?” Did anybody bother to do any research? Between Pitkin County and the Crystal River Ranch in Carbondale, there exists the largest herds of cattle in the valley. I’m not talking two or three hundred — there are many more than that. Plus, the mountain foot (and bike) traffic, particularly in the summer, is so crowded that places such as Conundrum Hot Springs and the Four-Pass Loop now require permits for overnight travel. 

The wolves I’ve come across in the wild would rather flee than stick around to see what my attitude was. So, maybe those wolves aren’t going to hang around wild areas where there are a lot of people — they’re gonna be on the travel, lured forward by the smell of cattle and sheep. Plus, more and more, the elk and deer herds are camping out on private property rather than in the wild, which further entices wolves toward domestic livestock.

Seriously, why would anyone think that reintroducing wolves into this county and countryside would be a good idea? It strains the imagination.

According to Colorado Parks and Wildlife, our elk and deer herds are decreasing in population. One of the reasons given (other than too much human activity) is that mountain lions find the babies, hidden out while their mothers graze, and kill them for food. A wolf is going to figure that out before any protective measures for baby wildlife can be implemented. Mostly because it’s impossible. 

It’s odd that with the number of animal lovers we have in this area, no one seems to speak out about the brutal desecration of animals that depredation, sometimes in a vicious fashion, causes. 

Tony Vagneur writes here on Saturdays and welcomes your comments at ajv@sopris.net.