Wolves in those mountains

 

Thursday, April 08, 2010

 

Just got back from vacation, which was really the settling of a batch of previously unresolved obligations – such as taking my daughter to see the wolf preserve, a small matter left over from last fall.

The place has a curious relationship, nestled at the top of a mountain in northwest New Jersey as part of a camp ground that has an uncomfortable relationship with the preserve.

We got warned on the website not to show up too early – because the camp site, even though not open for business yet, clearly didn’t want a bunch of us tree huggers hanging around.

Camp managers were at first totally rude when we got there too early.

We had a tough time finding the place at all partly because neither the camp ground or the wolf preserve felt comfortable enough in that Nazi part of the state to put out signs near the highway. If we hadn’t the map from the website, we might not have found the turn at all. Even then, as we rose up the twisting and steep road to the top, we weren’t certain we were on the right road at all or if we would find a camp site and preserve when we got there.

I deliberately arranged to meet Ruby early in order to avoid rushing in case we had a problem, and went there deliberately to local the site early.

We found a camp sign at the top, but no sign for the preserve – and were coldly told not to come back until a half hour before the scheduled trip farther up the hill.

No problem. We drove back down the hill, went to the restaurant for lunch, then back to the Delaware Water Gap to hang out for a few hours. Even then, nervous about the possible overcrowding, we went back an hour early. Ruby figured she could browse the gift shop until it was time to make the trip up the final leg to where the wolves hung out.

This time, the driveway was roped off and a small temporary sign was posted about the trip. The camp guy rudely told Ruby that the gift shop wouldn’t open until just before the tour and told us to go away until then.

We decided to waste time by driving up the road some more where we began to see the disturbing landmarks – McMansions scarring the mountain top like a growing disease, as urban dwellers showed off their wealth by ruining an otherwise pristine rural setting.

We drove down the hill again, then when the roads got too confusing, we turned back and came passed the camp ground only to find management had removed the temporary sign for the wolf watch.

It is difficult to understand exactly why they were so paranoid. But I suspect that they feared a backlash from the Sarah Palin supporters among the rural dwellers, who hated us tree huggers and like Palin, hated the idea that we might be harboring criminal wolves in these kills or might be hatching a socialistic conspiracy in the remote portions of the mountain.

The talk we got later on the tour suggested some truth to this, but no one dared speak too openly about the Tea Baggers hiding in the hills ready to shoot down anything that isn’t white, conservative or Christian.

After stalling for a while longer, we finally returned to find the people from the preserve there, and they were a kinder and more gentle breed. Ruby unfortunately discovered the rules for making the trip up the hill, which included “no open toed shoes.”

She was wearing flip flops, and the gift shop sold only more flip flops, so we had to sweat out that no one would notice her footwear long enough for us to get our tickets. I got a little testy with her when she lingered in the open during the final part of the registration, which including signing a document that would prevent us from suing the camp ground if any of us got hurt during our tour.

I have imagined our getting devoured by the wolves, but this was a passing fancy.

Perhaps also peeving Ruby off, I urged us to walk up the steep hill to the preserve rather than wait for the shuttle, and it was a weary walk if not long.

Tall double fences with barbed wire greeted us at the top. The fences and wire really weren’t for the wolves, but to keep them safe from humans.

The wolves didn’t climb fences, they would burrow under them.

This is a valuable lesson on which is the most dangerous species, wolves who are scared of humans or people like Palen who hunt them by helicopter until the wolves are exhausted and then cut off their paws. It reminded me of the savage Christians who killed Native Americans for fun, along with the Buffalo.

When we were all together, management opened a gate and we got to walk up a fence bordered passage where we saw the wolves close up, four packs in four compounds, as curious about us as we were about them. One of the organizers talked about these wolves and others, how they lived and how they were fed, hinting at how misunderstood wolves were in the world.

While the preserve had other animals, we left after we saw the wolves and made our way down to the gift shop. Ruby went crazy over the wolf items as I stood outside. Camp people seemed a little more friendly. A pack of wolf like motorcyclists pulled in to ask about the camp. The staff greeted them cordially. These were clearly not tree huggers.