Cow-killing Calif. wolves captured in dramatic helicopter hunt by CDFG
Mounting cattle deaths and pressure from ranchers forced California officials to make tough choices about wolf management.
On a clear day in mid-March, Kent Laudon stood in a snow-covered base camp in remote Siskiyou County, waiting for a wolf.
A senior environmental scientist specialist with the Department of Fish and Wildlife, Laudon had been trying to capture California’s wolves on and off for two years, without success. He has no interest in harming the wolves, though. He’s hoping to save them.
Since September, wolves in the Whaleback Pack have killed more than 20 cows and injured another half-dozen across Siskiyou County. It’s the highest concentration of attacks on livestock since wolves first returned to California in 2011. In fact, after 23 years of working with wolves across the
United States, this is the first time Laudon can recall a single pack being linked to so many attacks.
California in 2022 introduced a program to compensate ranchers for wolf-related losses in part to stop ranchers from dealing with problem wolves in their own ways. Wolves aren’t the only predators who roam these rugged hills, though. So when a calf is found injured or dead, tracking the historical locations of radio-tagged wolves can help prove their involvement. But as of last year, not one California wolf was wearing a fully functioning GPS collar.
A helicopter brings gray wolf OR-85 to base camp to be collared. After being darted with an anesthetic, the animal stopped in an area unsafe for the helicopter to land, so the crew had to move him by longline.
Courtesy of Kent Laudon
So on March 17, when a helicopter appeared on the horizon towing an unconscious member of the Whaleback Pack from a dangling longline, Laudon was elated. “There’s not much room in this world for wolves, with the way people feel about them,” Laudon told SFGATE. “Having that collar inserted there to tell us all kinds of things about the population is super important.”
Most of the calves targeted by the Whaleback Pack have been residents of Table Rock Ranch, a large cattle operation set squarely within wolf country. The ranch has been using many kinds of deterrents, including a watchman hired to drive around the range at night. But without knowing when wolves were nearby, it was a little like shooting in the dark.
Now, most mornings local ranchers get a text message letting them know the general locations of the two collared wolves. “I was optimistic that it would be helpful, as far as making our deterrents more effective, and being at the right place at the right time,” Table Rock Ranch manager Janna Gliatto told SFGATE.
Table Rock Ranch manager Janna Gliatto now receives general information each morning on the historical movements of the collared Whaleback wolves. (Ashley Harrell/SFGATE)
Over the past couple of years, the Whaleback Pack has expanded from the founding pair. Seven pups were born in 2021 and eight in 2022, but it’s hard to tell how many there are at the moment, as wolves range over broad areas and often separate from one another for long periods of time. When they last counted in late 2022, state scientists were only able to confirm the presence of six of the pack’s wolves.
The uptick in depredations is likely happening both because the pack has extra mouths to feed and because the region has few elk and deer, which are usually gray wolves’ preferred food source, Laudon told SFGATE. Once the leaders of the pack learn how to hunt cows, he added, they can pass that knowledge on to their pups and other wolves.
The Whaleback Pack is one of three families of wolves currently living in California. Wolves were never actively reintroduced in this state; instead, foundational populations were released in central Idaho and Yellowstone in 1995 and 1996, then made their way into Oregon and dispersed down. In most states where wolves roam, packs that repeatedly harm livestock can be legally hunted, whether by wildlife departments, hunters or ranchers themselves. However, the California Endangered Species Act has fully protected them here since 2014. That makes it illegal for private citizens to harass, harm, pursue, hunt, shoot, wound, kill, trap or capture them — no matter how many cattle turn up half-eaten.
A paw print from a gray wolf in northeastern California.
But in Siskiyou County, “ranchers have been a model of patience,” Laudon said. California’s compensation program will soon begin compensating ranchers who implement deterrents. But that money has been a long time coming; Gliatto says she was promised reimbursement for the range rider months ago, but has yet to see a dime. Still, she’s hopeful that the new data from the collared wolves will help with another aspect of the program called “pay for presence,” where ranchers are reimbursed for the impacts of wolves simply being around, such as stress on the animals.
A male wolf from the Whaleback Pack in Siskiyou County returns to the wild after being outfitted with a satellite collar for management and research purposes on March 17, 2023.
Courtesy of California Department of Fish and Wildlife
Most mornings, the collars transmit satellite location data to Laudon about where the wolves were at 2 p.m., 11 p.m., 3 a.m. and 7 a.m. over the previous 24 hours. If a wolf keeps returning to a particular spot, he’ll let the local cattle owners know to look for a carcass. The sooner a rancher can find a wolf kill, the better the chance there will be evidence left to prove the cause of death.
Two California wolves had working radio collars until last year, including the Whaleback Pack’s breeding male, OR-85. But a year ago, the batteries died in both wolves’ collars, leaving not one wolf in the state with a fully working collar. After that, Laudon was essentially blind to where wolves were roaming. That meant no way to tip ranchers off to nearby wolves — and no way to tell whether wolves were falling victim to the 3S method.
Trying and failing to get collars on wolves has been the bane of Laudon’s existence for the past two years. Wolves are incredibly wily; Laudon once spent 60 straight days setting and monitoring wolf traps. He watched as wolves walked around his traps, and even rolled on top of one. But none of the wolves actually got stuck inside. That left the state with the difficult decision to hire helicopter trappers — a much more costly and difficult operation than trapping wolves on the ground.
After record-high livestock kills, Calif. wolves caught in dramatic helicopter hunt. (Ashley Harrell/SFGATE)
“There’s stress involved in being chased down by this thundering creature from the sky. If they’re with family members there’s probably a sense of panic with family members scattering,” said Amaroq Weiss, the senior wolf advocate with the Center for Biological Diversity. “At the same time, being able to be radio-collared may be what ends up saving these wolves’ lives.”
The helicopter hunt was run by Leading Edge Aviation, an animal capture operation based in Idaho that does work for state and federal agencies. While the old collar on OR-85 no longer sent location data to satellites, it did continue to emit a radio signal. In February, the first helicopter sent by Leading Edge was stymied by snowstorm after snowstorm and couldn’t find the wolves. They decided to try again in March.
The day before, Laudon went up in the spotter plane with a radio receiver, and eventually located OR-85’s signal in a wooded valley. The next day, the team went straight to the valley, where they found three Whaleback wolves. They darted a black yearling, then landed the helicopter and prepared the wolf for travel, blindfolding and hobbling the animal before securing it in a carry bag attached to a longline.
A male wolf from the Whaleback Pack in Siskiyou County returns to the wild after being outfitted with a satellite collar for management and research purposes on March 17, 2023.
Courtesy of California Department of Fish and Wildlife
After dropping the first wolf at the base camp, the helicopter returned to the valley with a bigger prize in mind: OR-85 himself. After the gunner found his mark, the chopper landed and the team hiked to the wolf to check his vitals, blindfold him, hobble him and place him in the carry bag attached to the longline. (This is only done when wildlife must be lifted from an area that’s not safe for the helicopter to land.)
The helicopter returned to camp with the 98-pound animal, where Laudon’s team took his vitals and drew blood for DNA testing and disease surveillance. “The utmost care is delivered to each wolf during the entire process,” he told SFGATE.
Laudon had mixed emotions as he replaced the old collar with a new one — after all, OR-85 had already served his time. Still, Laudon knew it was necessary. The yearling could leave at any moment, but a breeding male almost always stays with his pack.
When the team was done with their tests, they placed the two captured wolves in kennels and drove them back to where they had been captured. Laudon opened the kennel doors and then waited, staying until they were both on their feet and heading back to the wild. As he watched OR-85 trudge away through the snow, he thought about how important this success was for all the stakeholders: ranchers, wolf advocates, scientists and the wolves themselves.
“It was such a relief,” he said.
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