Westworld Saskatchewan

Winter 2012

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postcards Prince of the park: Who's afraid of a big black wolf? ''M aybe we'll see a wolf." M y b r o t h e r 's voice bubbles with enthusiasm. He wants to experience the thrill of spotting one of nature's most notorious predators. "If I told people in France I saw a wolf, they'd be amazed," Bill adds. "They think they're the most evil animals on earth." He talks as we speed through the foggy, pre-dawn dark on the highway north from Saskatoon. Bill and his three-year-old daughter, Ella, are visiting from Lorraine over the Christmas holidays. Seeing some prairie wildlife is high on their wish list. "We'll probably spot some deer, a fox or two and some elk," I tell Bill at the start of our daytrip to Prince Albert National Park. "Maybe a moose." But encountering a wolf, with a toddler in tow? It wasn't going to happen. After all, wolves avoid contact with humans. Sightings are extremely rare. Close encounters are almost unheard of. So elusive are wolves, they're sometimes called grey ghosts. About to explain all this, I stop myself. Why quash his hopes and spoil the fun and the spirit of the trip? It's the holiday season, and he and his daughter have come all the way from Europe. All but exterminated from Europe and the United States, about two thousand wolves still live in northern Saskatchewan. In a lifetime of visiting the province's north, I've heard their howling on a few occasions but have never seen one. Few people I know have. About 80 wolves live in Prince Albert National Park, where they thrive by hunting mostly deer and elk. Tens of thousands of tourists visit the park annually, but most never see Canis lupis. Entering the park along its aptly named Scenic Route, we drive past frozen lakes and rivers and over rolling hills covered in aspen and spruce. The park appears deserted, apart from the predictable roadside white-tailed deer and spruce grouse. "Let's stop here," I announce at a road sign 10 W E S T W O R L D p10_11_Postcards.indd 10 >> WINTER 2012 indicating the Spruce River Highlands Trail. "There's a high lookout tower on this trail that's great for sightseeing." Before our walk, we pause beneath the trailhead sign showing an image of a wolf's head – the official symbol of Prince Albert National Park. Soon we are climbing a winding path through dense forest, high above a river valley. The winter temperature, a few degrees below zero, is perfect; sunlight filters through the snow-laden evergreens. Ascending at a pace slow enough for Ella, we stop to enjoy views over the Spruce River. Enchanted, we forget all about wildlife, when along the trail toward us trots a white-tailed doe. The deer is in no hurry to turn tail, though, even slowing and stepping nearer to us. Panting heavily, her tongue lolls out of her mouth. Clearly exhausted and oddly unafraid of us, she soon disappears into the dense bush. Bill is delighted that Ella saw a wild animal at such close range. I press on, slightly ahead of my guests, when another animal comes running around the same bend. Seeing me, it stops. I assume it is a large black dog running off leash and expect its owner to come bounding around the bend behind it. Then it quickly dawns on me what it is. I freeze in my tracks, staring straight into the face of a wolf. Standing tall and alert, not 20 metres away, the animal looks more puzzled than aggressive. In the midday light, the image of this proud creature, its thick, black winter coat highlighted against the snow, leaves us speechless. Holding its head high and wagging its tail, the wolf seems to be asking who owns the right of way on the trail. It begins bouncing from side to side on its front paws, like an anxious dog not sure where it is going next. Then, with one silent move, it leaps into the forest, in the direction of the deer. Turning to my brother and niece, I break our stunned silence. "That . . . was . . . a . . . wolf!" I stammer in openmouthed disbelief, unable to absorb what I've seen. The running wolf explains the bewildered deer then. We'd walked into the middle of a wolf chase. But wolves usually hunt in packs. Why was this one alone? It wasn't. We find two sets of tracks on the trail, each with paw prints 12 centimetres long. Later, in the restaurant overlooking Waskesiu Lake, we join other diners celebrating the season. An hour earlier, we'd nearly witnessed one of nature's goriest scenes: a wolf pack kill. Now, as dining room lights twinkle off glasses of red wine on nearby tables, civilized refinement surrounds us. "I can't wait to tell people in France about what we've seen," Bill says, sipping his beer. For my part, I feel privileged to live in a part of the world where wolves thrive in the wild. Seeing one at close range with visitors from abroad makes it all the more special. –Byron Jenkins iStock 12-10-19 9:33 AM

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