Wyatt, the Immortal Wolf, remembers the Old West

Join Wyatt on a journey through the past, as he remembers the West when it was truly wild.

Wyatt remembers when the Rio Grande was a mighty river carving its way through desert canyons, bringing life and beauty to the land. He can recall the many faces of the Rio Grande; the snow-covered peaks where the river was born, the lush highlands where Wyatt easily leapt from one side of the river to the other, the low plains where the river was too deep and wide to cross.

Wyatt saw where the land fed the river, and he saw where the river fed the land. He traced its path from the San Juan Mountains, through wild forests, to land’s end - where the Rio Grande vanished into the Gulf of Mexico. He remembers when countless fish made the river flash silver against the glow of the setting sun. He remembers when the water was so high it seemed to strain the banks containing it.

Then, he watched as diversions and dams began to bleed the river dry, draining its waters to supply new settlements and their cattle. As the settlements grew, the waters receded. Soon, the Rio Grande became a shadow of what it was.

 As the Rio Grande began to fade, Wyatt followed the river north, past Shiprock, toward the great Western plain called the Sagebrush Sea. Already, barbed wire had begun slicing lines across nature’s face, making his journey more difficult and dangerous.

Wyatt remembers when the Sagebrush Sea was a magnificent open range, offering safe passage and sanctuary to a menagerie of wildlife. It was the living heart of the American West. Antelope and deer dotted the landscape and huge flocks of sage grouse could darken the sky.

Wyatt tracked herds of elk over great distances, passing through invisible walls that would soon divide the plain into states and territories. Too quickly, barriers rose across the grasslands. Fences and roads began cutting his world into ever-smaller pieces, cornering the wolf – forcing him onto unnatural islands that robbed him of his freedom and threatened his life.

When the Sagebrush Sea was an open plain and the American West knew no fences, Wyatt rarely crossed paths with a mountain lion. The vast expanse provided ample territory for the cougar and the wolf, but time and men drove them closer together.

Mountain lion, cougar, puma, panther – there are so many names because they once thrived in so many places, with so many tongues. Each culture chose a word that tried to capture the golden beauty and powerful grace of the big cat. Though words could not capture him, hunters did.

Wyatt remembers when his majestic rival ranged over two continents, a threat to few and threatened by none. Then, fear and ignorance led to persecution of the cougar, who was trapped and slaughtered without mercy. The big cat began to disappear and, once again, was rarely seen.

Wyatt led his pack from the wild lands of the Gila to the Colorado Plateau, concealed by the tunnels of cottonwood that formed a thin, green line of life for the arid desert. The shade of the giant cottonwoods provided relief from the heat of the day. At night, when the leafy canopy shrouded Wyatt’s compass of stars, he would simply follow the corridor upstream.

These passages were filled with birdsong, and kingfishers swooped down from the branches, diving underwater after their prey – a skill Wyatt envied. On hot summer days, when he came upon one of the many beaver dams, he cooled off in their ponds. Foxes and squirrels found shelter inside the trees. Every cottonwood was an oasis.

Wyatt remembers when the cottonwoods nearly burst into the sky, growing twenty feet or more in just a few years. Their branches twisted and turned, reaching in all directions, forming nooks and crevices where a multitude of creatures discovered new homes.

Then, people seized the waters and cottonwoods grew slower and seedlings died. Trees from the east pushed out native species. As wolves were hunted and killed, elk began to lounge around streams where they ate the young trees. Cattle did the same. With each passing generation, the giant cottonwoods came closer to being a piece of the past.

Wyatt remembers when legions of prairie dogs surveyed the land, scanning the horizon for signs of danger. He knew his movements were marked, and word of his arrival would quickly spread. Wyatt realized the prairie dogs spoke a language more sophisticated than others. He marveled at the variety of their personalities, their voices and their homes.

Billions of prairie dogs lived in colonies that equaled or surpassed human settlements in both complexity and size. Like the cottonwoods, the colonies provided shelter to a wide range of animals. Snakes, ferrets, foxes and others found refuge in the vast underground tunnels. Birds, frogs and lizards also took advantage of the prairie dogs’ hard work.

In spite of their efforts to remain vigilant, they could not foresee their greatest threat. Wyatt remembers when the prairie dogs and their grand cities began to perish. He watched as entire communities were destroyed. Wyatt never understood the language of prairie dogs, but he understood their necessity, something the newcomers did not.

Wyatt remembers when seas of wild forests flowed from the mountains to the desert floor. He remembers how his senses were filled with sounds and colors and smells as he drank from streams lined by ancient trees that towered over him. Wyatt knew that the forests and the water were one – each growing out of the other.

Wyatt remembers forests alive with color – the blazing reds of the autumn maple, the luminescent greens of the globe willow, the vibrant yellows of Aspens in the fall. The forests, like quiet cathedrals, offered peace. The waters, like a sacrament, offered life. Wyatt remembers when roads entered and divided the forests - and the peace was shattered.

He watched as the ancient ones were chopped down to build new settlements. He saw the waters depleted for irrigation and livestock. Without the once abundant water, the forests grew even thinner, and some vanished. Without the protection of wild forests, the waters diminished even more. Many rivers became streams, and many streams disappeared.

Wyatt remembers when mighty rivers flowed through wide-open spaces, like the Sagebrush Sea. He remembers when cougars roamed without fear and tunnels of cottonwood sprawled throughout the desert. He remembers legions of prairie dogs that numbered in the billions, and he remembers wild forests teeming with ancient trees that soared into a clear, perfect sky – an untouchable sky.

One by one, pieces of his world began to change and disappear, until only the sky remained as it was. The great Western sky - so clear that moonlight and stars challenged the darkness of night. Wyatt could see mountains from more than 100 miles away. From the peaks of the San Juan, he could trace the lines of sandstone canyons on the Colorado Plateau.

Then, towers of smoke and fire rose from the cities of men, slowly stealing the horizon. The nights seemed darker and the mountains seemed farther away. In time, Wyatt lost his final treasure – the clear sky.

Wyatt remembers when he was not alone. Once, hundreds of thousands of wolves roamed freely across the continent - from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from Mexico City to the Arctic Circle. Wolves lived in the mountains, on the plains, and near the sea. His own pack numbered thirty strong. Together, they hunted abundant herds of elk, deer, moose, and bison. They lived without boundaries and without fear.

As time passed, the wagon trains arrived, then the locomotives. The new people brought old stories about the wolf, stories full of fear and contempt. They also brought guns. They began a one-sided war against the wolves. Members of his pack were shot, poisoned, and trapped. Wyatt spent long days lying by the side of other wolves, watching them die, as they struggled in vain against the sharp jaws of the metal traps.

For more than a hundred years, Wyatt has wandered alone. Highways, cities and fences have isolated him from the few wolves that remain. Memories have been his only companion – ghosts of animals and places he has lost. He remembers when America was the land of wolves and he hopes that, someday, it will be again.