A close encounter of the wolf kind in Idaho’s Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness

This column commits a journalistic sin — more of a no-no or faux pas than a major transgression.

Here it is: There is no photograph to represent the main topic of the column, which is built around a recent hike to the Wind Lakes Basin in Idaho’s Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness Area.

There is a picture of the stunning lower Wind Lake, of course, and other bits of scenery. There’s a picture of my dog June, a 6-month-old Drahthaar, swimming in the lake. There’s a snap of one of the last bear grass blooms of the season.

But there’s no picture of the wolf.

Long time coming

I’ve been writing about gray wolves for more than 20 years. During that time, I’ve had tons of personal and professional excursions into wolf country. Yet, until last Sunday, I’d never seen one in the wild.

I’d heard them howling. I’d caught quick glimpses of wild canines that for a moment made me think, “Maybe it’s a wolf,” even though I knew it was a coyote. I’ve seen wolf scat, wolf tracks and a wolf kill.

Sunday, Sadie and I saw the real thing, a no-doubt-about-it, yep — “that’s a wolf” — wolf. We were hiking out of lower Wind Lake and headed toward our truck at the Tom Beal Park Trailhead. It was late afternoon, and the hike out had turned into a bit of a slog.

I was in the lead, with June on a leash. Sadie was behind. Ahead, just off the trail, I caught a glimpse of movement. I stopped, stood on my toes and craned my neck for a better look. More movement, but again just a snippet obscured by the lodgepole pine trees. A back perhaps, but what did that back belong to?

It seemed like a canine, but it could have been a bear. If canid, it could have been a domestic dog. We’d passed a handful of other groups that day and like us, they all had dogs. Whatever it was, it was oblivious to our presence just 30 to 40 yards away.

Sadie read my “on alert” body language and was ready with a can of bear spray. With June’s leash firmly wrapped around my hand, I let loose a loud, sharp “hey.”

Then it appeared. It was black, big — like bigger than the biggest German shepherd you’ve ever seen — and absolutely beautiful. It gave us a quick look, crossed the trail and melted into the trees in an unhurried but obvious exit.

Extra caution

In the course of writing about wolves and wolf reintroduction, I’ve learned the controversial animals don’t really mess with people, but they don’t much care for domestic dogs. I’ve written about wolves killing hunting hounds in pursuit of bears or mountain lions. In these cases, the hounds were far from their human handlers.

Although I’ve never heard of them harming dogs in the close presence of people, I’ve heard stories of wolves following people with dogs.

With that in mind, and not knowing if the wolf was alone, I dug for the small .22 pistol I sometimes toss in my daypack, loaded it and moved it to my front pocket. To be honest, I felt a little silly about the gun, but also protective of my young pup. If need be, it would serve as a last resort should more shouts and then bear spray not be enough.

Sadie and I marveled at the experience and wished aloud that we’d had our phones out and ready for a photo. Then we continued the slog out, me with a .22 in my pocket, she with a can of bear spray in hers and June showing no sign of having seen or smelled the wolf.

We looked over our shoulders from time to time and were aware of every odd noise in the forest during that last mile or so of the hike, but neither heard nor saw the wolf again.

Like many wilderness experiences, it will remain a vivid picture in our minds and a reminder that the world is still a wild place.