52 pages • 1 hour read
Nate Blakeslee goes a long way to revealing the themes of American Wolf with the three quotations included as epigraphs. The third epigraph, taken from The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood, speaks to the wolf’s place in the human imagination. Atwood says that “all stories are about wolves.” On a literal level that is untrue, which Atwood acknowledges when she clarifies that all stories worth repeating are about wolves, while “anything else is sentimental drivel.” This statement highlights one of Blakeslee’s major themes: the grip the wolf has on the on the human psyche.
This idea comes into focus in Chapter 4, where Blakeslee gives the reader a potted history of humans’ relations to wolves. For thousands of years, humans and wolves were in competition with each other, as early humans began to farm and keep livestock. Wolves roamed these lands and picked off those farmers’ animals in a way that posed a direct challenge to humans’ survival. This deeply primitive aspect to the relationship between the species has forever colored the wolf’s place in the human imagination. “In Western culture,” Blakeslee says, “the wolf became an embodiment of wickedness, from the Middle Ages, when the werewolf myth first appeared, to Grimm’s fairy tales in the early 19th century” (84).
As this remark reveals, humans’ conflict with wolves was so foundational, so omnipresent in early human history, that it leaped the bounds of a purely literal struggle. Wolves were a topic of conversation; wolves took on a symbolic value. Quickly, the image of the wolf appeared in a metaphorical way in Western language, giving rise to idioms that feature the wolf and myths that grant the wolf a far more dangerous aspect than it presents in real life. This brings us back to Atwood’s quip. As a writer, she is interested in the wolf’s metaphorical value and finds some fun in borrowing it as a symbol of danger, excitement, and evil, highlighting its outsize role in Western culture just as Blakeslee does.
However, Blakeslee finds himself obliged to probe this role because of the nature of the opposition to the Yellowstone wolves. As the story progresses, researchers demonstrate their positive effect on the park ecosystem, but that kind of rational evidence does nothing to sway the wolves’ enemies. Indeed, as top Wolf Project biologist Doug Smith laments, “The debate wasn’t about science anymore, if indeed it ever had been” (186). Something else animates anti-wolf activists, a gut feeling, an emotion, an instinct. By evoking the cultural history of human-wolf relations, Blakeslee questions where opposition to the wolves comes from, if not from a reasoned place. Occasionally, the answer is political expediency, but one of the book’s strengths is how the author situates the anti-wolf animus on a larger cultural plane, a mythological one even. As he points out, early Christians equated themselves with sheep; they were a “flock.” Thus, “Their shepherd was God. The wolf that preyed upon the flock was the devil himself” (84).
Overall, Blakeslee builds a convincing argument for how the wolf took up such an influential role in human thought—usually to the wolf’s detriment.
Given the primal rivalry between humans and wolves, Blakeslee intentionally draws parallels between the two species. This may be a way to add more dimension to their relationship (a competition born of similarity), but it also creates empathy for the wolves, showing that on some level the irrational hatred of them is misplaced.
Blakeslee draws the comparison between humans and wolves in several ways. Sometimes, a character like Rick will make the case explicitly. For example, at one point Rick thinks, “[wolves] were more like humans than they were given credit for, in their tribal ways and territoriality; in their tendency to mate for life; and in the way male wolves provided food and care for their offspring, so unusual in the animal world” (139). Rick returns to this comparison in the Epilogue when he argues that wolves experience emotions very similar to human ones (albeit via their sense of smell).
Elsewhere, Blakeslee lets readers draw the comparison between the species for themselves, by portraying the behavior outlined by Rick above, behavior readers can recognize as similar to humans’. For example, Blakeslee thoroughly details both how O-Six raises her pups and what roles 755 and 754 play in the pack. The latter thrives even as a doting uncle, demonstrating considerable patience with his nieces and nephews who make a game of jumping all over him. This scene will be familiar to any reader who has jumped on a put-upon parent or relative, and it enables them to see themselves in the Lamars.
More subtle is Blakeslee’s juxtaposition of human behavior with the wolves, drawing the comparison in the other direction. This begins in earnest in Chapter 3. Between Pages 56 and 59, Blakeslee shows the formation of O-Six’s pack, the way she draws her two male suitors away from the Druids. On the following page, though, Blakeslee turns his attention to the humans watching her. He tells the reader about “Rick Radio,” the group of wolf-watchers that has formed around Rick (notably, its members have named it just as they do the wolf packs). Blakeslee introduces Laurie Lyman, Doug McLaughlin, and others, and shows the different roles they perform. This creates a sense of the human wolf-spotters as a pack. Just as in a wolf pack, the Rick Radio members complement each other through their blend of personalities and skills. And if this might seem subtle, notice what Blakeslee does on Page 65: “Inevitably they spent a lot of time watching, just as the wolves did.” The community might watch elk in lieu of the wolves when they are not there, or in the hope the elk will attract wolf predators. The image of the spotters observing the exact same prey as the wolves cements their characterization as a pack.
While wolves and humans are certainly similar, there are key differences, too, and this is where the book’s second epigraph comes into play. The couplet from Shakespeare’s Richard III turns easy assumptions about bestial cruelty on their head. Richard seems to be saying that, whatever the similarities between human and beast, humans distinguish themselves by their cruelty. Beasts are more noble. Perhaps it is notable, then, that there are zero incidents of wolves attacking humans in Blakeslee’s book, despite their depiction as formidable hunters. Not even when Turnbull kills O-Six do the wolves attack him.
Instead, when the wolves in the story attack each other, hunt, or kill, they are acting on instinct in their bid to survive. The same cannot be said of the story’s humans, who kill by choice. This is the distinguishing factor for Shakespeare’s Richard. The calculating king sees beasts as nobler than humans because they at least are capable of pity. Time and again, the humans in American Wolf show they are not. Recall how the story starts in the Prologue: Turnbull lines up two wolves in his rifle scope. These are not animals he needs to feed himself, clothe himself, or otherwise survive. He pauses as the wolves watch him, but he does not show them “a touch of pity.” After a moment’s hesitation, he guns down O-Six. Similarly, John Tester does not hesitate at the thought of throwing the Yellowstone wolves to the humans to save his job. State officials show no pity as they draw up sweeping plans for their hunting seasons. And yet, as humans who are uniquely gifted with consciousness, they could show pity if they chose to. Blakeslee seems to suggest, both with his story and this epigraph, that humans willfully commit violence against the natural world—and this is the decisive difference in his comparison of them and wolves.
Blakeslee’s first epigraph reminds the reader of another aspect of human behavior: We are, as Aristotle put it, a “political animal.” Blakeslee suggests that even in nature or nature writing, the author cannot ignore the political dimension to their story, and so he carefully weaves the politics surrounding wolf conservation into American Wolf.
Certainly, the period Blakeslee writes about is a tumultuous era in US politics. His story takes place during the fallout from the 2008 financial crisis and opposition to the Obama presidency. Given that Blakeslee has identified wolves as a symbolic animal, he examines what Yellowstone’s wolves might represent in this charged context. His answer is especially apparent in Chapter 6, as the legal battle over their protection unfolds. Protesters throng in front of the courthouse in T-shirts bearing slogans about wolves, such as, “WILL THERE BE ANY ELK LEFT WHEN I GROW UP?” and “AS YOU READ THIS…WOVLES ARE EATING MY FAMILY’S DINNER!” (115). Physically adorning oneself in these words suggests the issue is one of identity. Wolf opponents feel that the issue represents something very close to home to them, and they feel like they are being trampled on by the same federal authorities who reintroduced the wolves to Yellowstone in the first place.
It is this sense of grievance—not only over wolves—that is stoked by the emergent Tea Party Republicans whom Blakeslee mentions (for example, Denny Rehberg in Montana) and, later, by Donald Trump in his successful bid to succeed Barack Obama as president. American Wolf was published in October 2017. Given the lead times involved in publishing books, the 2016 election may not have been decided when Blakeslee submitted his manuscript. But the tone of the election campaign and Donald Trump’s candidacy would very much have been ringing in the author’s ears as he finished his book. He does well, then, to cast his story as one that can help the public understand how seemingly small issues in far-off parts of the country can be weaponized to deliver political success. American Wolf is much more than a story about a wolf or her hunter. It is a story about competing visions for a nation built on dominion over a natural landscape, plus its indigenous people and wildlife.
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