Red Wolf Recovery Program - Field Notes and Observations

Pup Season, 2005

(Field notes are observations made by the red wolf wildlife biologists: Art, Michael, Leslie, Chris or Ford)

Week of June 5th, 2005

Ford

Traveling east before daylight, I see the first rays of sunlight appear above the horizon. Even the humidity cannot spoil this vision of nature's artwork in the morning sky. Every morning sunrise is as unpredictable as the entire natural world. What a job!

It takes me about an hour to reach the farm's main access road. Bobwhite Quail scatter as I advance. Mourning Doves sit in rows on nearby power lines, interspersed with a couple of Kestrels and a sharp-shinned hawk. My "observers" pay close attention from their power line bleachers as I pass the equipment shed and turn east on a secondary road that borders the south side of a block of corn. About midway down the block, I turn off the truck, gather the telemetry equipment and record air frequencies of pup transmitters on my palm. The numbers share "palm" space with yesterday's adult and juvenile frequencies, having made the mistake of using a permanent marker. By the time they fade in a couple of days, I'll have them memorized.

Standing on my truck's toolbox with headphones on, I listen for resident pack adults and hear the female in the corn to the northeast and the male far to the west of my position. Listening for the juveniles, I hear them on the east side of the wheat to the south of the corn just 20 meters or so off the main access road.

Pup transmitters are more difficult to pick up due to the lack of external antenna. I don't hear anything, but am still over 100 meters from the culvert where they were released. I listen again for all four but still nothing. Turning off the receiver, with headphones still on, I think I hear a whine or howl. Sure enough! Now, with headphones off, I hear a pup howl. The sound seems to be coming from about fifty meters into the wheat and fifty meters to my east, about half way to the culvert. Replacing the headphones, I scan the frequencies and hear a faint beep, beep, beep. It's one of the three males traveling alone and moving across the wheat towards the juveniles. With headphones off, I hear his howl again. In my seven-plus years of working with the wolves, I had never heard a pup howl.

Back at the truck, I head further east, closer to the culvert. Time to stop and listen again. I hear the other three but have lost the signal for the first pup. Their beeping varies in intensity, telling me they are on the move. (The transmitters are programmed to double their pulse rate if the animal is motionless for more than six hours.) All the pups' pulse rates are normal. This is good news; they are all alive and well. I investigate the culvert for signs of other pups. This was a litter of nine when we located the den just after their birth. Nothing doing; the pups are too quick and wary. If any of the others were here, they probably moved off quickly or are on the move with the transmitter pups.

I drive back to the main access road to listen for pups and juveniles. I hear the juvenile female and male in the same location as earlier. The first pup I heard is now nearing their position. I would stay all day, but have traps to run another hour's drive to the east. A female that bred with a hybrid at another farm this past season needs her collar replaced. She and the hybrid are still moving together; if her collar goes dead, it could hinder their capture.

Back in the truck and heading east, the sun is high in the sky and the temperature is nearing 95º. The AC feels good but I turn the temperature up so as not to get used to the cool air. Soon I will be walking through head high corn, sweating and killing mosquitoes. I love this job. It beats sitting at a desk by a long shot.

Week of June 5, 2005

Ford (with Art, Leslie and Chris in the field)

The weight of the early morning mist is already dragging on my uniform pants. Another east Carolina summer day is beginning. One hundred percent humidity and 90-plus degree temperatures will be the recipe for the day. That doesn't matter. I can't wait on the weather. There is work to do-work that is driven from inside and makes life worth living and 12-hour days pass like flashes in a dream. The heavy morning fog will clear soon and temperatures will rise.

Hopping in my truck, I head up the road a few miles, slowing down to turn onto a graveled farm road. Corn and wheat appear as far as the eye can see. First stop: the farmers shed. Hoyt, the landowner's right-hand man, is already making passes through the corn on the sprayer; fertilizing the valuable crop thirty rows at a time. He tends his crop and I tend mine. I check the frequency list and see we have two adults, a male and female, and two juveniles, also a male and female, radio collared on this farm. Red wolves have become my obsession and led me to a career I never knew existed as a child.

Today the task is to locate the adult breeding pair's 7-week old litter of pups, capture some of them and implant radio-telemetry transmitters. Post-implantation monitoring will hopefully answer questions about mortality in young wolves. I scribble the adult and juvenile radio frequencies in the palm of my hand and collect tracking gear. Climbing onto the truck's tool box, I turn on the receiver, place the headphones over my ears, and scan the area with the handheld antenna. I listen intently for the rhythmic pulse telling me wolves are near. The adult male is nowhere around. I switch to the adult female and hear her some distance away. Now the juvenile male can be heard. He is much closer and near a canal we had scouted last Friday that had a lot of pup tracks and digging.

He is doing his job keeping an eye on his young siblings while mom and dad are out on a morning hunt. The juvenile female is in the same direction but further out. The pups were likely disturbed by the morning activity of the farmer's sprayer. They are quite accustomed to the movements of the farm equipment and readily shift between the fields of wheat and corn or hide out in the many culverts that drain the farm fields. Hoyt, in his vantage point high up in the cab of the tractor, gets to see the wolves often. I on the other hand am usually limited to the rhythmic sounds of their radio collars as a source of assurance that all is well.

I get down from the toolbox and relocate to get a better idea about where the juvenile male is located, making sure to stay upwind, so as not to spook him. By the time I begin to radio-track again, the juvenile female has moved closer to him (the juvenile male). Possibly coming back to see how the little ones are doing or to help in rounding them up for an early morning feeding. They have moved south along the canal. Wolf tracks are everywhere along the road, and lead down to each culvert. It seems they check out every culvert.

Satisfied that I have a good location for the pups, it is time to back off, moving my truck to the farm shed to wait for Chris, Art, and Leslie to arrive. Chris will be the first to arrive as he is the closest to my location. He has to check on a wolf to the north that was reported to be sickly. A few potential reasons for the illness could be mange, heartworm, or old age.

In the mean time, I exchange information with the farmers about the wolves' activities and adult and juvenile locations. Mom and dad are nearby but don't go to the juveniles' location just yet. The pups are weaned now and don't need mom's constant nursing. A steady diet of regurgitated meat fills their stomachs several times over a twenty-four hour period. Soon pups will have to fend for themselves, but for now, between meals they sharpen their hunting skills on the bounty of leopard frogs and water snakes that inhabit the drainage ditches and canals.

Chris arrives with good news: the wolf in the area he was checking on looked fine. The sun breaks out soon after he arrives and we decide to investigate the juvenile's location and see what sign we can find. My truck is loaded with four big salmon nets, a couple of kennels, and an extendable noose pole. As we make the turn at the far end of the wheat field, a pup scurries across the road, down the canal bank and into the culvert on the other side. I stop the truck immediately. Another pup peeks out of the thigh-high corn and begins to make his break for the canal bank. In a moment of indecision, he turns and retreats to the safety of the cornfield. It seems they were in the process of leaving the wheat and heading back into the corn when we surprised them.

Quietly getting out of the truck, we check wind direction and are still upwind. With nets and a small kennel, we move cautiously down the road, keeping an eye to the corn for signs of movement. Nearing the culvert where the first pup disappeared, I see a pup in the corn. I freeze and give Chris a low whistle. He is on it in a flash, dropping one of his two nets he dashes into the corn and runs between the rows. As the pup quickly outpaces the swift-footed biologist, it makes a fatal error and turns to run across the rows. The tightly spaced stalks slow the pup's pace and Chris scoops him up in the net and walks back toward the kennel.

Pups can be snappy at this age and leather cloves don't provide total protection from the needle sharp milk teeth, but this pup is docile, content to be pickled up by the scrap of the neck and gently placed into the kennel. As Chris was returning with his prize, I eased up the road to peer into the culvert. Nearing the opening, I hear a pup's low growl, defiantly defending its den. I quickly back away to keep from flushing any pups out the far side of the pipe.

Moving quickly and quietly, we cross the canal and I cover the far end of the culvert with one net and stand ready with a second. Chris peers into the culvert and shouts, "One coming at you." The pup hits the net and I scoop it up, moving quickly to cover the exit with the second net. Simultaneously, Chris shouts, "Two more coming!" It too hits the net but retreats into the culvert. I hesitated in scooping up the second pup so as not to lose the last pup. It matters not. We place the second pup in the kennel, cover both ends of the culvert with nets, and retrieve the extendable noose pole from the truck.

This time the pups know the game. They won't run out into my net when Chris shouts into the culvert. This is where the long pole comes in. Chris inserts the noose pole into the culvert while I stand ready. Out comes pup number three, a swift scoop and I got it. I move the second net into place and the fourth pup runs in. A swift scoop and I have two wiggling pups in two nets. I quickly drop the first net and stand on the handle. Again, the pups are docile and I use my bare hand to get them by the nape of the neck for the transfer to the kennel. Three boys and a girl. I guess girls really are smarter.

Week of June 15, 2005

Ford

Today, four pups will undergo implant surgery. The weather is clouding up and a dry place will be needed for the procedures. Arriving at the field location, the landowner readily agrees to our request of using his shop for surgery. In anticipation of the veterinarian team's arrival, we begin clearing off work tables for use as the wolf prep and surgery areas. It begins to drizzle outside and we are thankful for the dry shelter. The vets arrive and take over the prepping of the surgery area. The pups are weighed to insure the appropriate anesthesia in administered. The pups are placed in a surplus military back pack to check their weight. They are rather docile right now, but we exercise caution when handling them, having previously experienced the painful bite those needle sharp teeth can deliver.

The first pup is sedated and transferred to the surgery area where a cone is placed over his nose to maintain sedation. The surgery goes without incident and the first pup is placed in a kennel until the anesthesia wears off. The next three surgeries go equally as well. By the time the fourth pup is done, the first has recovered. We aid the recovery of the other three by warming and stimulating them. Soon they are all fully awake and ready for release.

It is getting late in the day as I drive back down the farm field to the culvert where the pups were captured. I get out of the truck and gather the pups. Each one is placed at the entrance to their shelter where they quickly scurry into safety without so much as a snarl. I grab the telemetry gear and listen for the signal for the adults and juveniles. The adults are in the corn to the north and the juveniles are in the wheat to the east. I feel assured that they will come and check on the pups after I leave.

The sun sets on my drive home and I feel good about what I do. It is satisfying to know that the information we collect on the pups' movements and adult visitation will answer many questions about canid behavior in the wild that scientists previously had not had a chance to document. Tomorrow I'll check on pup positions and see if other pack members are near.

Week of June 20 th , 2005

Ford

I begin today before sunrise, knowing the temperature will be in the high 90's by noon and the heat index will hover between 105º and 115º. I enjoy the spectacular sunrise for a moment before heading out to check my trap line. Must get there before any captured animals are at risk of overheating. Leaving the asphalt to turn onto a farm road, I scan the road surface for scats and tracks. There they are. It looks like two animals have come out of the cotton and begun to travel north along the road hoping to catch a rabbit unaware and seize the opportunity for a snack. The old female is still traveling with the hybrid male she bred last fall. We need to capture him and replace him with a male wolf, but this is proving difficult. He is traveling with a female that has been trapped on numerous occasions. As a result, she is trap-wise, and anything she is wary, of he will avoid. Repeatedly they have avoided the trap set we put out.

As I turn west at the intersection, a six-point buck jumps across the road and begins to run along the edge of an adjacent cornfield. He is in excellent condition, fattening up on soybeans and an abundance of other more natural browse. With a quick turn, he disappears into the corn, no doubt to circle around and cross the road behind the truck.

I approach the orange flagging marking a set and stop the truck to inspect the traps more closely. No action, but something catches my eye some three feet to the left. Coiled nicely in the shade of an overhanging limb lies a cane break rattlesnake. I am relieved that I chose not to step too close to his resting area. He is a nice specimen, over two feet in length and beautifully patterned. The yellow and black bands accented with shades of brown, provide the perfect camouflage for his ambush technique.

I move on checking the trap sets along the road. They are empty. Scorning the quail that mockingly utilize my sets as dust baths, I make the repairs to the sets, get back into the truck and move east to check the rest of the traps.

Turning south at the east end of the corn, I see a piece of orange flagging marking the sub block of corn where traps are set. Exiting the truck, biting flies swarm me. I don't bother with insect repellent as sweat will soon wash it away. Besides, the repellent only seems to serve as seasoning on the meal. I head into the corn with my trap bag. The first few rows are planted north-south so I have to walk across them. I exit the last row at the end of an east-west v-ditch (a small dead end canal) and begin to travel along it parallel to the corn rows. Every fifty meters or so a cross ditch cuts across the corn rows with the purpose of draining excess water from the field into the v-ditch during rain events. The wolves use these to cross the corn rows and we set our traps at the end of them. During hot days in the early part of summer the wolves will lay in the corn, digging shallow daybeds between rows. The corn offers shade but does not cut off the breeze until it reaches six feet or so. The mosquitoes and flies are not bad in the corn, a sharp contrast to the insect-infested wooded areas surrounding the fields. You are immediately swarmed by every biting insect imaginable as soon as you step under the canopy.

Moving along the v-ditch, I disturb snakes every so often. Sometimes I can distinguish species and often see Red-bellied water snakes, Northern banded water snakes, Black racers, Rat snakes, and Water moccasins. The grass is thick along the banks of the v-ditch; knee high in most places. As I move along, an assortment of frogs launch into the v-ditch and grasshoppers fly everywhere, but every trap is still in place. No disturbance and the wind is dying down. Noon is fast approaching and the temp is about 98º in the corn as the breeze dies down. The heat index will soon reach 115º. I keep moving.

Photos: 2005 litters (Chris Lucash photos)

Pups only a few weeks old.
Scat found on the road.	Finding a den.