Six adults are at the den when we arrive, including Dirt Ball whom we alternately call Muddy and Pigpen. These are not romantic names for a wolf, but this critter is so encrusted with mud and so oblivious to its appearance that no other names will do. Dirt Ball has brought in the head of a musk ox calf. A little later, Brutus (who has a fresh wound on his left hind leg – looks like he got hooked by a musk oxen horn) brings the head out, and Mother goes into full food-begging mode. Brutus resists relinquishing the head. This is unusual. It is his job to feed Mother while she is confined to the den by the pups. Later, it will be his job to feed the kids. Mother asserts herself, and snarling, she insists on having the calf head. Brutus relents (smart one, he is!) and gives her the gory trophy which she carries off.

We read and doze and watch the wolves snooze and cavort with the increasingly rambunctious pups. Suddenly, we hear whimpering and puppy howls from somewhere behind us. The napping adults leap to their feet and rush toward the sound. Games are suspended as the playground wolves join their pack mates in the search. It takes them no time to find the vagabond pup and herd it along toward the family circle. The pup has other ideas, though. It keeps diverging from the direct route, so the adults attempt the pick-up-and-carry maneuver. But the pup is too big and too squirmy, so the big wolves resort to nosing the wanderer along to safety.
Dave decides to conduct an experiment with the walkie-talkie radios. Across the swale is a low ridge topped with rocks and boulders. It is not far – maybe 100 yards as the crow flies – or as the raven flies in our case. After hiding one of the radios

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