Coming into the Wood River Wolf Project, I felt excited about the work: running around the steep, breathtaking mountains of central Idaho saving the wolves, and yet after a few weeks at this, my appreciation for the less glamorous parts of the project is slowly becoming my favorites. Don’t get me wrong, when I get to the top of a ridge and see the far-off Pioneer Mountains towering above me it still takes my breath away. At the same time, I am coming to realize that the true beauty in this project stems from me discovering the seemingly forgotten challenges, stories, and characters that embody this magnificent landscape.
As an example, I met with one of the ranchers this week, Corey Peavey, to introduce myself and to find out more about his operation this season. Just physically, Corey’s terrain is different than the other operators. Sure, the ranchers all work in the same general area, but the north-facing drainages of the Pioneers are far different in terms of grass and shade than the comparatively barren slopes of the southern Smokey Mountains. Almost exclusively sagebrush hills are replaced by thick Doug fir, willow and aspen. There is more water, and seemingly more wolves.
Talking with Corey, this year, it seems like it will be a test. The drought may prove challenging as streams dry up earlier than normal. The coronavirus is making it nearly impossible to get herders from Peru. On top of that, there is the constant fear of losing sheep to predators. Even so, he seemed excited about the prospect of having folks from the community coming to camp out with the sheep and scare the wolves away from them.
Ranchers like Corey Peavey are just one part of this web. While he’s dealing with travel routes for the sheep, herders on the other side of the valley are handling the everyday pressures of this wild landscape: this week it was bears. An early morning call from Roberto had me rushing out to the mountains. A bear had killed a sheep, so I went out to document it and cover the body with tarps to speed up the decomposition process. This served as the perfect time to bring him the Fox Lights and t-posts to increase protection from potentially interested wolves in the area. As I wrote last week, Fox Lights emit random bursts of light to imitate human activity. We place them on t-posts driven into the ground to raise them up to the eye level of the wolves. By imitating human activity, the Fox Lights have shown to discourage wolves from straying too close to sheep herds. The smell of a carcass can attract predators from many miles away; thus, it is very important to have deterrence methods in place to keep them away from the smell of a rotting carcass near live sheep.
Finding the shepherds can be extremely difficult. The steep terrain and their constant movement proves to be a great challenge. Roberto kept telling me “Once you get to the first tope (hill), just go to the second tope.” He didn’t get much more specific than that. After reaching the first tope, I looked around at the infinite topes of the Smokey’s. This was going to be fun.
Fortunately, his horse tracks and the sheep trail lead me to Roberto’s camp high up on a ridge. “¡Pensé que el oso te comió! (I thought that the bear ate you!)” he laughed.
Roberto’s camp is quite different than Alfredo and Sixto’s. Roberto has a tent, sleeping bag, a cook stove, and a cooler. Not much else keeps him company, other than his dogs, two horses, and a portable radio blasting classic rock into the otherwise deafening silence of the high mountains.
Roberto’s dog Rambo eyes me suspiciously.
Roberto called me at about 10 in the morning. After getting supplies ready and tracking him down, I arrived around 3 in the afternoon. By the time we got to the kill site, nothing remained but a small puddle of blood. The bear had returned and taken the carcass with it. The dogs sniffed the trail out revealing some excrement and blood trailing down the steep slope. We carried airhorns with us in the off chance that the bear came back.
Roberto is disappointed that we cannot find the carcass drug off by the bear.
Descending the mountain, Roberto noticed a tin shed. We got closer to check it out. An old mining shack revealed itself from the dense cover of trees. Inside, names had been written on the decaying walls. Gregorio, Jaujua, Peru, 1996. Gregorio-Luis, Peru, 1996. Lingering memories of past herders cling to the same walls that sheltered miners many years ago as they etched a living out of these same mountains. (1883)
The following day I brought a solar panel to Alfredo and Sixto donated by Sarah Michael, a volunteer whose spirit and drive helps keep this project going. Approaching their camp, I found a long dead sheep carcass since dried by the sun and wind. I looked for any signs of predators nearby but didn’t find anything. I asked them about it, and they said it had died a while ago and that the dogs had eaten it clean. Fortunately, they will be moving from this area the following week. They also use their Fox Lights and sound makers, like air horns and whistles, at night to help scare away any hungry wolves attracted by the smell of the sheep.
Talking with Alfredo and Sixto, they asked me whether I played any instruments. “Just a little guitar here and there,” I replied. I asked them and a huge grin spread across Alfredo’s face. “Saxophone,” he laughed. His dad laughed replying “I play the accordion.” I was shocked. What an impressive combination. I wondered to myself how effective a father-son band of dueling saxophone and accordion might be in keeping wolves away from the sheep.
As I sat and asked Alfredo some more questions about where they were headed next, Sixto put a plate down on my lap. “Comida peruviana. ¡Disfruta!”
I couldn’t refuse. The plate of piping hot veggies and rice was already on my plate, so I dug in and it was delicious. Sixto took a video of me eating the Peruvian dish to send to his family back in Peru. After finishing up the unexpected meal, it was time to get back on my way. They will be moving camp in a couple days and I’ll go out and meet with them when they do.
Speaking of musicians and shepherds, I had the chance to meet Doroteo, another herder in the Faulkner operation. Doroteo plays the violin, which he keeps with him in his sheep wagon. He represents yet another style of operation. Rather than tents or tarps as his primary way of tending to the sheep, Doroteo spends most nights in his sheep wagon. He has worked in the valley for 8 years and has known many of the people that held my job previously. He knows about our work and is ready to get the equipment that we supply because he knows that it helps him keep his band safe.
When thinking of Idaho, I often think of cowboys and miners rather than Peruvian shepherds, and yet these folks have been here for decades. They lead quiet lives, tending their sheep mostly out of sight in the big country of the Smokey, Pioneer, and Boulder Mountains. They’ve formed a part of this area for years now, and they all come with their own unique stories and personalities. Some are quiet and reserved, while others are friendly jokesters. They all take pride in their work, tending to their herds day after day, even though it’s hard, lonely work. Their personalities and experiences are a key part of the diversity of this project and area.
My hope is that we can continue building community with these elusive characters in the Idaho mythos so that they are remembered not only as shepherds, but as community members working to avoid conflict and promoting coexistence with livestock and wolves.
