Colorful sea urchins and sea stars adorn a rocky island in the heart of the Great Bear Rainforest. The forest is a place where the land and sea don’t just meet; they merge.
Colorful sea urchins and sea stars adorn a rocky island in the heart of the Great Bear Rainforest. The forest is a place where the land and sea don’t just meet; they merge.
By the Beautiful Sea
At first glance, the churning waters off the coast of the Great Bear Rainforest may seem like the last place on Earth to find a wolf. There’s no open tundra or windswept prairie where herds of ungulates (what scientists call hoofed animals like deer or moose) amass like armies. But by now you’ve come to realize what a special place the Great Bear Rainforest is. And as it happens, the wolves of the GBR are special wolves as well. Coastal wolves are different from other wolves in a number of respects. We’ve already mentioned that they’re smaller than their cousins on the other side of the Coast Mountains, and that their coloring is different—red/brown instead of silver/gray. Another key difference is that coastal wolves are excellent swimmers, though not the way seals are. They don’t turn corkscrews and somersaults in the heaving surf. But they do swim—and they do it with ease and confidence.
Hundreds of islands hug the coast of the BC rainforest, and many are decorated with seaweed-soaked reefs like this one. Consequently, coastal wolves, unlike their inland cousins, make their living by hunting both land and sea creatures.
So if you’re in a canoe or a sailboat, plying your way between the hundreds of islands that litter the rainforest coastline like confetti, and you happen to cast your eye sideways or glance across the bow, there’s no telling when a wolf might come dog- or wolf-paddling by. All you’ll be able to see will be his or her head, held erect and safely out of the water, and the upper back sloping gently out of sight. But under the surface will be four busy paws steadily moving the wolf forward, slowly and purposefully, from one island to another. Even four-month-old pups sometimes swim with their parents. If you’re not expecting it, the sight will certainly make you look twice. Even three times. Can that really be a wolf swimming? Yes. In the Great Bear Rainforest they do it all the time.
Wolves aren’t equipped with the same long fishhook claws that bears have, so they have to use their jaws and teeth to catch salmon. This wolf is doing his best, but it’s tough fishing in deep choppy water.
You’ve probably been told how important it is to drink water each day. Wolves are no different. Meat eaters like wolves need fresh water to aid their digestion.
But if you think about what kind of a place the Great Bear Rainforest is, the fact that wolves are competent swimmers only makes sense. Animals evolve according to their surroundings. Over time, as one generation gives way to another, the individuals most likely to survive and reproduce are those who can do things easily and efficiently. If the BC coastal wolf lived in a place where there was no water, knowing how to swim wouldn’t matter. But in the Great Bear Rainforest the land and water don’t just meet; they merge. Waves rush in from the Pacific and pound the rocks and sand. Mountain streams flow into rivers that flush into the sea. Fish return from the sea to swim up these rivers and feed the land. And trees that grow at the water’s edge dig ever deeper into the earth, firming their grip on it. This is the rich, changing and, above all, diverse environment where coastal wolves make their homes, so it’s no wonder they have to be comfortable in water as well as on land.
But even within the Great Bear Rainforest there are two distinct populations of coastal wolves. There are wolves who live on the mainland, and wolves who live on the many islands that hug the coast. And each kind of wolf leads a different life. Island wolves may live their whole lives without ever seeing a moose or a mountain goat—animals as familiar to mainland wolves as the fur on their paws. But why would they? Wolves and their families occupy carefully marked territories from which they rarely stray. So even though moose and mountain goats might live only a few kilometers away from an island wolf family’s territory, if they never enter that island territory, the island wolves will never see them.
Wolves can run very fast, and when they set their sights on a particular prey animal, they are determined. But hunting large prey, like deer or moose, is difficult—even dangerous—for a wolf on his own. This is why wolves usually hunt in packs.
What mainland and island wolves do have in common is that they both eat deer. They eat lots of other animals too—big, small, landlubbing and sea-dwelling. But mainly they eat deer—the same Sitka black-tailed deer that travel swiftly and quietly through so much of the Great Bear Rainforest. Consequently, if deer live on a rainforest island, chances are wolves will live on that island too. As with almost everything in nature, there’s a balance. A family of wolves needs a steady supply of deer to feed them. If there’s a healthy population of deer, the wolves will be healthy too. Sometimes, however, while there may be deer on an island, there may not be enough to sustain a wolf family’s needs. But what if there is a neighboring island with deer on it? And what if next to that island is a third island with deer on it too? Individually, each of these islands may not have enough Sitka black-tailed deer to maintain a family of wolves over the long term. But put them together and they can support generations of them. The only catch is that to get from one island to another, wolves have to swim. So they do. Either that or they starve. Look out over the water and you might see a whole parade of them, nose to tail, making their way through the waves from one island to the next. When the water is calm, swimming is easy—perfect for paddling. When it’s rough, it’s harder and more dangerous. So wolves weigh their options carefully before they dive in.
When it comes to mainland wolves, the world they occupy is both constant and changing. It changes with the weather and the seasons, but it’s also a place where giant trees stand still and steady. Not so the island wolf’s home. It’s a more varied place, where sandy beaches, open bogs, rocky headlands and tidal pools are pushed and pulled relentlessly by tides and storms. When you think about it, it’s amazing that two groups of wolves can live so close to each other and yet lead such different lives. But to them their territories are like two planets, one defined mainly by the land and the other by the sea. And as we all know, the only predictable thing about the sea is its unpredictability. It’s a wild, restless, rippling and sometimes overwhelming environment.
The ocean can turn up all sorts of meals for a wild wolf—everything from barnacles to sea lions. Rainforest wolves don’t have a hope of catching a seal or sea lion at sea, but on land it’s a different story.
The sea can also be generous. For an island wolf growing up with the sound of surf in his ears, there is more than just deer meat in nature’s larder. There are also shore- and seabirds that flock to intertidal areas to gather food and fish. Birds like cranes, geese and herons also make good use of islands, building nests on them and raising their young. Any of them can make a tasty meal for a wolf.
And while a land animal like a wolf couldn’t possibly hope to catch a seal at sea, it’s a different story on land. Sometimes seals like to haul themselves out of the ocean to rest and sleep. And as they sleep, the tide goes out, separating them farther and farther from the water’s edge. Uh-oh. This is what wolves wait for. Have you ever seen a seal move around on land? If you have, you’ll know that they’re not nearly as fast on land as they are in water, and that’s good news for a wolf. Usually a wolf will manage to take the seal by surprise. The interesting and unfair part of all this is that one of the reasons seals rest on rocks is to avoid orcas, or killer whales, coincidentally known as “wolves of the sea.” Yet another example of how “red in tooth and claw” nature can be.
Of course, with so much water around, there are fish too. Island wolves don’t plunge into the waves after fish the way seals or seabirds do, but given the strong ocean currents and crashing surf that roars in from the Pacific, there’s no telling when a fish, whale or seal might wash up on shore. And when it does, wolves devour it. There are also all the creatures of the intertidal zone—the crabs, clams, mussels and barnacles that live on and under the shoreline rocks and sand. Individually they’re not much more than an hors d’oeuvre for an animal the size of a wolf. But when there are enough of them, they become a meal. Not only that; small animals like these can be hunting starter kits for pups. The pups can chase them and sharpen their teeth and claws on animals they know won’t fight back. There are not many places in the world that provide newly born wolves the same kind of opportunity for a successful hunt—even if the quarry is only a small crab or a barnacle.
When the tide goes out, the seashore reveals its bounty. This family of wolves is resting just below the tide line, where, if they’re hungry, they’re bound to find all sorts of tasty snacks.
During the spring and summer, island wolves, like their mainland cousins, also enjoy good days in the rainforest. There is less rain, the air is warmer and the wolves have shed their winter coats. Food is plentiful too. The air and land are buzzing, squawking and squealing with potential prey. So this is the time when island pups learn both how to hunt and how to engage socially within their family. Island life is also less dangerous for pups than mainland life because there are fewer predators like bears and cougars that can catch and kill wolf pups living on the islands. So when the tide goes out, pups can safely play tug-of-war with the seaweed they find on the beach or romp in the ocean foam that burbles off the waves like bubble bath.
But come early autumn, life for all rainforest wolves will change again. In fact, for a short time it will get much better. By September, rainforest wolves, whether they live on the mainland or on an island, enjoy the greatest bounty the sea has to offer—the return of millions of salmon to their rivers of birth. And when that happens, the wolves do something surprising: they go fishing.
Forests are made up of more than just trees. At sea they’re made up of kelp. In fact, kelp forests are among the most beautiful and biologically productive environments on earth. They are found throughout the world in shallow, cool, open coastal waters, including those along the Great Bear Rainforest. At the surface of Pacific kelp forests like this one, the kelp often have long stems called stipes. One end of the stem is anchored to rocks on the sea floor, and the other boasts a gasbag that keeps the kelp afloat.