American Wolf: A True Story of Survival and Obsession in the West

by Nate Blakeslee

Rick thought about the last time he had seen her, heading up over Norris. It had been snowing steadily and visibility wasn’t ideal, but he’d still been able to track the Lamars through the trees the entire way up the mountain. All twelve of them had been strung out in a line across the mountainside, moving back and forth across the slope as they ascended, like hikers on a switchback trail. Middle Gray had been in the lead, with O-Six content to follow in her wake, keeping everyone moving in the same direction, holding the family together as she always had. Laurie and Doug had been there, too, watching alongside him. Laurie would later remember how purposeful they seemed, like a troop of soldiers; there was no play, no straying to investigate strange scents, no pausing to rest. Just up, up, along the ridgelines that ran parallel to the floor of the valley, toward the skyline. Near the top they crossed paths with a nervous group of bighorns, which drew together at the sight of the pack and then bolted when the time seemed right. The wolves held their course. They stopped momentarily at the top, twelve figures beautifully silhouetted against the skyline. And then they were gone. Rick had lingered awhile behind his scope, hopeful that the pack might come back down, but O-Six didn’t return. And now she never would.

“Rick thought about the last time he had seen her, heading up over Norris. It had been snowing steadily and visibility wasn’t ideal, but he’d still been able to track the Lamars through the trees the entire way up the mountain. All twelve of them had been strung out in a line across the mountainside, moving back and forth across the slope as they ascended, like hikers on a switchback trail. Middle Gray had been in the lead, with O-Six content to follow in her wake, keeping everyone moving in the same direction, holding the family together as she always had. Laurie and Doug had been there, too, watching alongside him. Laurie would later remember how purposeful they seemed, like a troop of soldiers; there was no play, no straying to investigate strange scents, no pausing to rest. Just up, up, along the ridgelines that ran parallel to the floor of the valley, toward the skyline. Near the top they crossed paths with a nervous group of bighorns, which drew together at the sight of the pack and then bolted when the time seemed right. The wolves held their course. They stopped momentarily at the top, twelve figures beautifully silhouetted against the skyline. And then they were gone. Rick had lingered awhile behind his scope, hopeful that the pack might come back down, but O-Six didn’t return. And now she never would.”