The second meeting of the series featured wildlife researcher and technician Elena Bassi together with Michela de Mattei and Invernomuto, artists and directors of Paraflu.
The discussion, of which we publish an extract, focused on the theme of the reappearance of the wolf in different areas of Italy, and analysed the figure of this predator, symbol of independence and knowledge, conflict and transformation.
VALENTINA GERVASONI
Thinking Like a Mountain emerges from an encounter with a wolf. I refer to what is described by Aldo Leopold in the chapter of the same name from A Sand County Almanac, a key text in the development of modern ecological thought. Leopold recounts how it was only upon meeting the dying gaze of the she-wolf, which he himself—as a hunter—had shot, that he realized the impact of his action on the mountain ecosystem.
The wolves referenced in the development of this project are also ones pursued by others albeit with intentions other than predation.
The artists’ initial research around Paraflu started from Baptiste Morizot, who in On the Animal Trail, recounts tracking large predators. He talks about the wolf, the grizzly bear, and the snow panther. For Morizot, the possibility of this encounter calls for a subtle sensitivity to the ecological relations that weave us all together into living territories; it calls for decentralization. This practice of relating to “nature” is referred to by him as s’enforester, i.e. entering the forest just as much as it may enter into us.
This book leads me on to another one, which I want to mention at the opening of our meeting. It is The Snow Panther by French journalist and writer Sylvain Tesson. Tesson was invited by nature photographer Vincent Munier to go to Tibet in search of the last specimens of the snow panther. Another elusive animal. The apparition emerges through looking at a photo. A hawk in the foreground. And from the mountain ridge, camouflaged amid the rocks, the snow panther watching them.
As the author himself writes, his gaze would never have discovered it without help because he was only trying to see an immediate presence. Our eyes always look for the easiest thing. But in nature we are observed. Paraflu is constructed on the basis of the consideration, one Morizot also invites us to make, of the wolf as possessing the magical art of misdirection.
While “enforesting” involves decentering, this also means questioning ourselves with regard not only to visible tracks but also to invisible ones, for in order to follow the trail, we need to get inside the animal’s head. To us, it would seem natural to think that the wolf, on reaching the clearing, proceeds along its path, while in fact it does not. Then maybe Elena Bassi will tell us I’m talking nonsense, but Morizot explains how humanly we tend to imagine the wolf projected forward, yet how it actually retraces its steps to circumnavigate the clearing. It’s here that we lose track of it.
But tracking on the trails implies being trackable.
“Who is watching as you examine a footprint?”
The objectifying relationship to the living being is thus turned on its head. The hierarchizing form is overcome, that way of inhabiting the world inherent to colonialism, capitalism and patriarchy based on the affirmation of difference and non-identity through the more complex concept of dominant and universal identity that, to put it in extreme synthesis, has led to an exploitation of the feminine and of nature, inevitably considered inferior, for in a dual logic of presence/absence, the other is always defined as an absence, be it of qualities, of characteristics, or ideals.
It was the ecofeminist philosopher Val Plumwood who best described how Western culture has always dealt in terms of dualisms, including the human/nature relationship: “…western culture has treated the human/nature relation as a dualism and […] this explains many of the problematic features of the west’s treatment of nature which underlie the environmental crisis, especially the western construction of human identity as ‘outside’ nature”(Feminism and the Mastery of Nature, 1993, p. 2).
Paraflu invites us to reflect on the practices of vision, the visible and the invisible, the practices of listening, and also the practices of enforesting, which surely the guests at this meeting have experienced in their various capacities.
Simone Bertuzzi and Simone Trabucchi have been collaborating as Invernomuto since 2003. With Michela de Mattei, they made this film which through plural perspectives tells of the return of the wolf to the Alps. They are accompanied by Elena Bassi, a wildlife technician who has been studying the wolf for years with a focus on the food chain ecology of this predator.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
While working on this film, we activated a lot of research channels. One of the people we worked with was actually Elena Bassi. In the film Elena is to be seen while performing her “wolf howling.” Certainly, Paraflu comes very much from a dimension of listening, so in trying to observe rather than to attempt a synthesis of the wolf. It is a very polarizing topic that arouses a lot of strong feelings.
ELENA BASSI
I have been dealing with wolves since 2008 and currently collaborate on the Life Imagine project, an initiative funded by the European Union as part of the LIFE program, dedicated to monitoring large carnivores in Umbria. I am particularly concerned with the wolf and the Marsican bear—although, so far, I haven’t yet spotted any bears, though I hope to soon.
Over the years, I have experimented with various tracking methods, from footprint tracking to genetic marking. In particular, tracking in the snow has always given me the feeling of being both the observer and the observed. Anyone who has encountered a wolf says the same thing: it’s like a ghost, you don’t feel it coming; you sense it for an instant, and as soon as you turn around, it is already gone. Even when the population was smaller and intercepting them was even more difficult, the wolf was an elusive animal. Therefore, most monitoring techniques rely on indirect signs of its presence: no one actually expects to see it.
One of the most fascinating techniques is wolf howling, which exploits wolves’ natural tendency to respond to acoustic stimuli. It is applied in summer, when there are pups who, being still inexperienced, will respond to almost any sound. Howling is a form of communication that can cover distances of up to three kilometers and is used not only to signal one’s presence to other packs, but also to communicate within the family unit, consisting of parents and their offspring of different generations. It is a system for coordinating pack activities, avoiding dangerous encounters with other wolves, and, during periods of dispersal, understanding whether a territory is already occupied.
Getting them to respond is not easy—they are extremely intelligent and cautious animals. However, this technique works and provides unique moments. Finding ourselves at night, in the woods, in the dark, listening to wolves responding to howling is something quite magical. Through the use of wolf howling, we can estimate the minimum number of individuals in a pack and check for pups. When pups respond, adults also step in to signal their presence and protect the group’s most important resource.
Howling is also a metaphor for the wolf’s condition: it crosses boundaries, it crosses territories that animals do not perceive as separate, and so it challenges the human notion of boundaries. We often think of protected areas as enclosed spaces, but wolves see no boundaries: they follow their own trajectories, moving freely, adapting to a changing world. For this reason, today we have more advanced tools, such as camera traps, that help us observe them without interfering with their shy nature.
Wolves carry a collective memory of persecution along with them: until the 1970s they were hunted down relentlessly, and even today they know humans can pose a threat. This makes them cautious, prompting them to avoid conflict. And at the same time, it reminds us that the real challenge is learning to coexist. It does not mean accepting a wolf in your backyard, but understanding that if you live in the middle of a forest, the presence of these animals is an integral part of the environment. The key is to find a balance, just as herders and hunters have always done.
SIMONE BERTUZZI
You were telling us that when you do wolf howling,you always use the same audio track, the same recording of wolves—which by the way is a rather compressed and poor quality one. In addition to that recording, in Paraflu, we also used a professional sound libraryput together by Dmitry Chernov from a series of recordings of various wolf packs. It is curious for us, though, to imagine that in the low quality or extreme compression there actually is or might be a better response from the animals.
ELENA BASSI
I’ve always wondered whether wolves really perceive our howling and, more importantly, how they interpret it. In scientific research, we are obliged to standardize stimuli to avoid factors that might influence responses. If one stimulus were qualitatively better than another, the result of our research might depend on this variable instead of the animals’ authentic reaction. For this reason, we recorded two wolves in captivity without knowing exactly what message they were communicating.
Every year, during wolf howlingsessions, we always follow the same procedure: we go out at night, choose emission stations and, at each point, emit two howls. The first one is at a lower volume to avoid being too invasive in case there are wolves nearby. After howling, we wait two and a half minutes in passive listening. If we receive no response, we assume they may be further away and then repeat the howl at a higher volume, then wait another three minutes. This method is always the same, yet despite stimulating the same packs several times over a season and year after year, the wolves continue to respond. They do not get used to this stimulus; they respond each time, confirming the effectiveness of the method.
One interesting aspect is that the frequency of wolf vocalizations is very similar to human vocalizations, which means that howling vocally can also work. However, there is a limit: if a person howls for an entire night, inevitably the sound quality drops with fatigue and the wolves, at some point, stop responding. Despite this, I have witnessed rather curious scenes: during some monitoring outings, I happened to be accompanied by hunters who, after drinking copious amounts of wine, sounded more like howler monkeys than howling wolves. Yet despite the poor quality of the howls, the wolves still responded. It is as if they had an instinctive need to signal their presence and defend their territory, warning that it is best not to get too close.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
Entering the language of wolves could be perceived as an invasion of their territory. If an area is inhabited by a pack, imitating their howls could be interpreted as territorial intrusion.
ELENA BASSI
It is essential to apply the wolf howlingtechnique ethically, avoiding repeated sound emissions in the same place so as not to disturb the wolves, especially in the presence of pups. The recordings might be perceived as threatening, causing adults to move the pups, exposing them to risks. Unlike other noninvasive methodologies, this technique requires special care to minimize disturbance to the animals.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
Can you elaborate on the phenomenon of dispersal? In Paraflu, we were interested in the analogy between the wolf and the magician: when a wolf disperses, it seems to try to erase its traces, even its urine markings, which recalls this dynamic.
ELENA BASSI
Dispersal is the process by which young wolves leave the natal pack to seek new territory and form a family. It usually occurs around the age of two, when individuals are reproductively mature. Often it is the parents themselves who push them to leave.
The phenomenon is gradual: the wolf does not leave suddenly, but explores the surrounding area carefully, assessing safety and available resources. The new territory may be close or similar to the original one, but it is unfamiliar to the young wolf, so it must move carefully. In the early stages, dispersing wolves still stay in contact with the family of origin, returning periodically before breaking away altogether.
Males tend to disperse earlier and travel greater distances, often hundreds of kilometers, before finding a suitable area and a mate or partner with whom to form a new pack. Females, on the other hand, are more tolerated within the family territory and can stay nearby or even occupy part of it without creating conflicts with their parents. Males, on the contrary, are more often removed.
VALENTINA GERVASONI
Can we talk about how much the sound environment plays a key role in Paraflu? On the one hand, the sound of the ocarina, which connotes the film’s opening, really seems to emerge from the fog, like some distant, elusive call. It gives the film a suspended, archaic atmosphere, amplifying the sense of mystery that pervades the entire film. On the other, there’s the spoken word that adds a narrative layer by introducing the theme of illusion, perception, the magician-spectator relationship of domination. The visible and the invisible as well as the various perspectives brought together are intertwined around the figure of the wolf, emblematic of a broader reflection on fear, control, and the relationship between man and nature.
SIMONE TRABUCCHI
Paraflu arises from a story told to us by a hunter friend about a year and a half ago. This story deeply shaped the atmosphere of the film and its direction. The tale takes place in the Apennines, in the province of Piacenza, where a pack of wolves was poisoned by a hunter following a conflict with his own dog. The previous night, in fact, the hunter had woken up to find his dog in a state of agony, having been attacked by a pack of wolves. Driven by a desire for revenge, he decides to sacrifice the body of his own animal: he leaves it in the yard, douses it with antifreeze—of which the brand name is in fact Paraflu—and waits. The wolves return to the site and, attracted by the carcass, eat its poisoned flesh. The next morning they are all found dead.
This practice, unfortunately, is widespread, not only against wolves but also other domestic and wild animals. It is a particularly cruel practice because, as is explained in the film, antifreeze does not taste unpleasant; on the contrary, it seems to have a sweetish taste that attracts animals, making it an insidious poison. When we heard this story, we immediately sensed a sort of horror film atmosphere.
Horror, as a genre, is of great interest to us precisely because of its ability to set the stage, build tension and entertainment around the raw nerves of society: capitalism, patriarchy, the fear of diversity—whatever it may be.
The soundtrack grew out of this along with the idea of constructing a rather recurring and almost haunting theme, using instruments related to the area. We used the ocarina, which we had already exploited in another project, as a starting point. Added to that were some recordings mentioned earlier by Simone, excellent quality sound materials from a Russian sound designer who follows and records wolf packs. We have these really incredible soundbanks; some, for example those of gnashing teeth, are almost percussive, extremely three-dimensional. Among the recordings used is also that of Buck and Taiga, used for the wolf howling. And then there is a remixing phase, a digital reworking of these sounds to build the structure of the soundtrack, on which the final editing was then based.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
The voiceoverfollows the analogy between the wolf and the magician, taking up and reworking a text by Dariel Fitzkee, a well-known illusionist and author of several books, particularly on misdirection—theart of confusing the spectator. His manual for magicians explains techniques for diverting attention, and it was this concept that provided the basis for our rewriting.
We reworked the text in depth, turning it into an element that drives the editing and introduces an additional layer of misdirection, amplifying the sense of bewilderment and ambiguity in the narrative. As you suggest, the goal in every aspect of the project—from image to sound—was to multiply perspectives, rejecting the polarization that often accompanies the discourse around wolves. We followed the traces left by researchers, the images and the paths explored, and the voiceoveron magic techniques fits perfectly into this logic: the wolf itself toys with perception, escaping any unambiguous definition.
Many accounts of wolf attacks, for example even those collected in the valleys of Bergamo, describe them as strategic, almost supernatural events, with sheep seeming to jump fences of their own accord, as if the pack had induced them to do so. The stories we followed—like the initial one in Paraflu—showhow a collective psychosis develops around the wolf, related perhaps to the difficulty of coping with its return. It is clear that a large part of it is a figment of the human imagination: the wolf becomes an archetype, a cultural and symbolic projection, deeply bound up in its representation. The voiceoverreflects this dimension, blurring the characters to the point where reality becomes indistinguishable.
SIMONE BERTUZZI
As you heard, reinforcing this dynamic is the use of two voices, both generated through the use of artificial intelligence. The male voice is modeled on that of Silvan, an iconic magician in Italian showbusiness, while the female voice is that of Val Plumwood, mentioned in the introduction by Valentina. These two lingering elements, revealed only in the end credits, add further ghostlike presences to the film.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
Again, we reflected on the choice of narrative persona in the text: which gender to use? The masculine, the feminine? In the end, we settled on the pack dimension, emphasizing plurality.
Often, when we talk about wolves, we hear mention of the “alpha male,” an expression that I personally find irritating, because it tends to exclude the figure of the “alpha female,” who plays an equally central role in the pack structure. Elena, perhaps it’s important to outline the social organization of wolves.
ELENA BASSI
In the pack, the dynamics are much more equal than we tend to imagine. These are not vertical relationships, but rather horizontal, cross-cutting relationships. For example, if one year a pair breeds and has pups, the following year it’s their offspring that will help wean and raise the newborns. Initially, the female stays in the den to nurse, but once this period is over, she will return to take part in all group activities.
For all intents and purposes, it’s a family structure based on cooperation: each individual has a role and actively participates in the survival of the pack. There are two key figures, those of the parents, the only ones that reproduce, but the system is not based on a strict vertical hierarchy, let alone a gender distinction. It is a collaborative system.
This multiplicity of levels and perspectives that you tried to portray can be felt. Often two people witnessing the same scene describe it in completely different ways: where one might see four white wolves, someone else might see them as black. Perception is so subjective that it becomes difficult to reconstruct the facts exactly.
Many times, I have come across testimonies from people convinced they had seen two wolves in a certain area, only to find out, thanks to the use of video cameras, that there were actually eight of them. Conversely, those who spoke of ten wolves were far off: there were only three. The use of cameras has made it possible to clarify many of these “mysteries,” but before they were available, the only source of information was testimonies, which were often rather discordant with each other.
Reactions to the presence of wolves also vary greatly depending on the context. In Tuscany, where wolves have never disappeared, shepherds get angry if they attack but they know how to handle it. In the Alps, on the other hand, their reappearance was greeted with panic and anger, because living with wolves is a new phenomenon and the experience needed to deal with it is lacking.
Now, the presence of wolves is even spreading to urban environments, and this has generated a wave of fear and disorientation. The most common question is “What should I do if I meet a wolf?” The lack of clear answers fuels panic.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
Yes, there’s probably insufficient information, in fact you also do a lot of awareness raising.
ELENA BASSI
Exactly, and it is just as you said: the wolf is a polarizing figure, so you have to be careful how you talk about it, especially in a built-up area where not everyone is aware of its presence. Openly stating “there’s a wolf here” can generate very different reactions: those who were not aware of it might panic, while those who already knew about it might react with anger and frustration.
That’s why it’s essential to approach the topic gently, to listen before speaking and to sense what the dominant feeling is. This is the only way to choose the right words and steer the speech in the most appropriate direction. It is a complex process, but one thing is certain: fear is always a permeating element.
SIMONE BERTUZZI
Elena, would you like to tell us about the practice that you have been carrying out recently, which concerns the approach of wolves to urban spaces and the phenomenon of their hybridization with domestic dogs? In particular, I would like to know more about what you’re doing to curb this situation.
ELENA BASSI
The wolf is a protected species in Italy. Ours is a unique subspecies that has developed due to the unique geography of our country: the Alps in the north and the peninsula shape have isolated wolves, preventing them from moving around easily. This isolation has led to the formation of a distinctive genetic population not found elsewhere in Europe. This is why wolf conservation is so important—in other nations, such as Spain or Switzerland, wolves are a genetically different species.
However, approaching population centers and due to poor dog management, especially livestock-guarding dogs or stray dogs, a problematic phenomenon has occurred: that of hybridization between wolves and dogs. This typically occurs when a female wolf mates with a male dog. The pups that result from this union are raised by wolves and grow up in the wild, but genetically they are hybrids between a wolf and a dog.
This hybridization has both genetic and ecological implications. Genetically, pollution of the Italian wolf genome is a concern, while ecologically there could also be an impact on animal behavior. Hybrid pups, although raised in the wild, may behave like wolves, but with behavioral and physical traits derived from dog genes, such as unusual coloration, perhaps black fur, or different morphologies, such as lowered ears or different tail shapes. However, there are still no comprehensive studies on the long-term effects of this genetic introgression on wolf behavior.
To try to curb this phenomenon, proper dog management and, at the same time, specific interventions on the wolf population are essential. As part of the LIFE project, targeted captures have been initiated to sterilize hybrid animals, so as to prevent the disintegration of the pack and stop hybrids from reproducing. The goal is to keep the group cohesive, preventing animals no longer part of the pack from becoming solitary and unpredictable.
Unfortunately, captures made in an area above Gubbio, where a large pack was located, did not yield positive results. Although three pure female wolves were captured, no hybrids were found. It could be that the dog genes make these animals more elusive, harder to catch, perhaps even more accustomed to human presence and therefore harder to intercept.
Over recent years, several projects have focused precisely on hybrid management, but there are still many difficulties related to legislation. In fact, it is still unclear how to treat hybrids in legal terms: it is not known whether to apply the legislation on wolves or on dogs, which creates a degree of uncertainty.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
I was very struck by what you told us. On the one hand, there is the need to preserve the purity of the wolf by intervening with the sterilization of hybrids. On the other, however, there is the problem that humans are increasingly encroaching on its natural territory, creating a kind of conflict between the preservation of the species and the expansion of urban spaces.
ELENA BASSI
On the one hand, there is the concern with preserving the purity of the wolf, but on the other hand you could also see it as a natural phenomenon: there was never any human intervention to make a dog mate with a she-wolf, let alone when it came to wandering dogs that simply met a wolf and mated. These animals met and, being of the same species, decided to mate.
That’s the way it goes right across the mountainside. It’s kind of like what happens with ungulates: first we reintroduced them to increase their numbers, then when they rose too high, we started culling them to limit population numbers.
It is always human error, a kind of negotiation between us and nature. The problem stems precisely from our lack of foresight: we often do not foresee the consequences of our actions, and when ecosystems fail to hold, we intervene by looking for solutions that don’t always work. Cities have grown a lot, especially since the depopulation of the mountains communities during the 1970s in particular, and this expansion has led humans to occupy more and more spaces that were once occupied by wolves and other animals. In some cases, however, these animals have been gone for centuries, so the return of wolves to certain places is new.
On the ecological level, it is crucial to maintain a healthy, rich ecosystem: without natural predators, such as wolves, ungulates would destroy the forest, eating all the new growth produced on ground level. However, the real problem is that not all ranchers, particularly those who run small operations, can handle wolf attacks, and institutions often don’t provide adequate support. Even if there are preventive measures, the real obstacle is the practical difficulties farmers face alone.
Coexistence between humans and wolves doesn’t come without a cost. If we don’t want wolves invading population centers, efforts must be made: scaring them away so that they understand the city is not their environment, even if this might cause some trauma to the animals. In the past, the wolves that risked being seen were the bravest ones, and they were also the ones who were eliminated; only the shyer ones remained. Now that the population has increased, the bolder wolves are returning, and they need to be made to understand that it is not safe for them to get too close to human spaces.
VALENTINA GERVASONI
In Paraflu, the alternation between fictional shots and natural settings seems to emphasize this contrast between the natural environment, the misty mountain of wolves, and the encroachment of “human spaces,” highlighting how the boundaries between nature and urbanization become increasingly blurred. I’m referring in particular to the pool shots.
SIMONE BERTUZZI
We shot a number of scenes with Czechoslovakian wolfdogs; talking to some experts there were a number of objections because they are clearly not real Italian wolves. We wanted to maintain this aspect of fiction in the film, though. The scenes you mention were shot at a private house, in the province of Bergamo, with a swimming pool and an unexpected satellite dish equipped with a series of mirrors. This created the interplay of illusion we were looking for; the moving antenna was used to create the lights on the surrounding landscape, without any post-production. There was also another scene we wanted to shoot as the final image, a crash with a jeep and a wolf, but it didn’t work, so we left it out, leaving only a fragment. In that case, we used artificial intelligence to conjure it up and created the final image with the snow, the jeep driving off, and the blood dripping.
SIMONE TRABUCCHI
This one was shot with an Italian wolfdog, the outcome of another experiment in controlled hybridization designed in the 1960s for law enforcement purposes, similar to the Czechoslovakian wolfdog, of which there are few specimens around.
Then there is the “Centro Uomini e Lupi” (“Men and Wolves Center”) in the province of Cuneo, and it is a place where wolves injured in the wild are rescued and recovered, but often they become no longer re-introducible because they have spent too much time in contact with humans. They told us about an interesting phenomenon, the “omega wolf”: in the wild, an outcast wolf might go into dispersal and actually become a lone wolf, while in captivity it becomes an outcast. It cannot leave the pack, but is excluded and continually seeks contact by howling or observing others. It’s a state of captivity that struck us a lot.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
And then there is a real wolf. On the last day of shooting, with the last film we had—because we shot everything on 16 mm—this magical thing happened: an unexpected appearance. We saw two wolves in the province of Piacenza, in Ponte dell’Olio, very close to the houses, in fact. They ran off immediately, but we managed to film them in time. It was a gift.
VALENTINA GERVASONI
Simone [ed. note: Trabucchi] says three wolves because in fact there is a third one present, albeit of another species. I would just like to link here to the presence of Lupo, the baby blissfully sleeping, lulled and perhaps, being a pup, protected from howling, because earlier Elena was talking about hybridizations and the fact that black wolves don’t exist in the wild. Blackness in the wolf is not an original characteristic of the species. Yet in the collective imagination, in the darkest tales, it’s always a black wolf, a symbol of fear, of menace and darkness. It is interesting how this narrative has become entrenched, while biological reality tells a different tale. Hence the opportunity—and perhaps the duty—to construct a counter-narrative, one that overturns stereotypes and opens up new perspectives on these animals and our relationship with them.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
Yes, absolutely. As you were saying that, I was reminded that even in the lullaby I sing to my son, there is mention of the “black wolf.” That shows how important it is to build a counter-narrative.
The wolf is often the symbol of evil, of the enemy. This has deep roots, also related to the construction of religion, which is based on the idea of a pastoral society: the shepherd, the flock, the lost sheep. In this scheme, the wolf is always the threat, the looming danger. The same happens in children’s fairytales, where it is almost always portrayed in an extremely negative light.
I often get to talk to people who have completely distorted ideas about wolves, which are the result of this ancient and established narrative. And I think it will happen ever more often.
ELENA BASSI
In this regard, there is an interesting anecdote: in Greenland there are no wolves, and there never have been. In Norway, on the other hand, wolves exist and are making a comeback, and historically Norwegians hate them. The curious thing is that if you go to Greenland, Greenlanders talk about wolves in the same way Norwegians do, with the same fear and contempt, even though they have never seen one.
This shows how much the image of the wolf as a negative figure is a cultural construction rather than a reality based on direct experience and independent of the animal’s actual presence on the territory.
MICHELA DE MATTEI
Even when we talk about the pack in certain contexts, such as in group rape, there is always this association with the image of the wolf. It is a negative symbol ingrained in the collective imagination.
I am developing a study on the Tasmanian tiger. The wolf was also a scapegoat for the extinction of the Tasmanian tiger in 1936. Although it was a marsupial, it was equated with the wolf by Europeans when they arrived. They began calling it the “Tasmanian wolf,” depicting it in illustrations with wolf-like features and associating the same negative reputation with it. This led to actual extermination campaigns because it was accused of preying on livestock. In fact, it was the cultural narrative that contributed to the extinction of this animal.
ELENA BASSI
Instead, in the completely different context of Vancouver Island, talking to a researcher who lives there, I discovered that the local natives deal with the wolf problem very differently. There, the wolf is seen as sacred, the reincarnation of the ancestors, so shooting a wolf is completely out of the question. When a wolf comes into the town center, the native community actively mobilizes to protect it. In such cases, a helicopter is sent to capture the wolf and return it to the wild without harming it. This shows how native peoples, who have a spiritual and cultural connection with the wolf, are an integral part of the decision-making process and influence it. By contrast, European populations, with a more utilitarian and antagonistic view, do not tolerate the presence of the wolf. This is a significant cultural contrast, reflecting different perceptions and treatments of animals.
VALENTINA GERVASONI
Elena, are there any examples of cooperation within packs?
ELENA BASSI
At the tracking level, the camera traps showed that, for example, if one member of the pack has difficulty walking, such as a three-legged wolf, the other members of the group do not leave it behind. The healthier animals bring food to the animal that cannot take part in the hunt, helping it survive, displaying very supportive behavior. In general, except during the summer season, when the cubs require a lot of attention while growing, the pack operates very cooperatively. This period lasts only four months, after which cooperation resumes, and all activities—such as hunting, resting, and moving—are carried out together.
In the wild, unlike in captivity, pack sizes are regulated by social factors. There are no packs that are too large because each individual must be able to maintain relationships with all other members of the group. On average, a pack never exceeds eight individuals so as to avoid social interaction issues. If the pack were too large, this would become difficult, and members would not be able to interact properly with each other. What’s more, there is a limit to the amount of social stress each individual can take, so there is a balance to be maintained. When the pack becomes too large, reaching sizes of twelve to fourteen individuals, the wolves may split into two subgroups to hunt or perform other activities, then reunite once the task is completed. In larger packs, typical of North America where territories are larger and prey may also often be larger, adoptions can sometimes occur, whereby a dispersing wolf is welcomed into an already-formed group. However, these events are rare and not the norm.
Q&A
Can a lone wolf survive on its own or does it have to rebuild a pack at some point?
ELENA BASSI
In nature, the key to everything is reproduction, that is, to pass down the genetic line. Although it can survive alone, a wolf eventually feels the desire to reproduce. When a specimen grows old, it can live in isolation, but only on the fringes of another pack, since solitary life brings its own hardships, such as in hunting. Although a wolf can hunt alone, it is an activity best done in a group, where cooperation facilitates success.
In some cases, dispersing wolves may meet another dispersed wolf and form a new pack. This is a natural mechanism to prevent specimens of the same family from mating with each other, which would be detrimental to the species.
Q&A
Can a territory also be shared by multiple packs?
ELENA BASSI
Yes, they usually adopt spatial and temporal segregation strategies. This means that while using the same space, each pack moves at different times, avoiding any encounters. Both packs are aware that the other is present in the area, but they also know they will never be in the same place at the same time.
