A Wolf Licked My Hand!

Staying at a wolf Bed & Breakfast in Montana

I had expected to be eased into it, to have a transition into the world of the wolves. But as we pulled up to the building, there he was — a wolf at the top of the hill, eyes staring through me. He was so real, so immediate. Shivers went down my spine. I was transfixed by the gaze of the wild.

Several years previously, I’d heard about a Bed & Breakfast near Bozeman, Montana that had wolves on its property. I couldn’t believe such a marvelous thing actually existed, and I wanted to go there as soon as possible.

I finally got the chance in October 2019, when my mom and I made the four-and-a-half-hour drive from our home in northwest Montana to Bozeman in frigid weather.

The B&B had four wolves, two in each enclosure, who had been rescued as pups or born in captivity. I could hardly tear myself away from them to head up to our room.

We had a great view of the wolf enclosures from our window, but I wanted to get closer. So we bundled up to walk the perimeter.

The woman who ran the Bed & Breakfast said that in spite of the signs that read, “Danger, don’t approach within three feet of the fence,” visitors did so all the time and even petted the wolves sometimes. The signs were just there for liability purposes, she said.

When I heard that, I had palpitations! Could I actually get so lucky as to pet a wolf?

I remembered back to my early childhood, when I saw my first wolf in person at a talk given by a wolf conservationist in Idaho Falls, Idaho, where I lived at the time. The woman stood on a stage with a wolf on a leash, smiling and petting it to show it wasn’t a vicious animal.

I was so jealous. I wanted to be petting the wolf. I don’t remember how it came to be, but somehow even before that event I had decided that wolves were my favorite animal in all the world.

At the B&B, it was bitter cold. The snow wasn’t deep but it was coming down hard. All was quiet except for the panting of the wolves and the patter of their feet.

The wolves wrestled joyously, the white chasing the black, then the black chasing the white. The white was the younger, and most often the instigator. He was a bit of a rascal, sneaking up on the black when the black wanted to rest. I watched them in raw fascination.

The white wolf had had his tail docked because it had frozen to the ground when he was a pup and he’d had to have emergency surgery to save his life.

I noticed that White seemed interested in us, running closer and closer to the fence as he played with his buddy. Leaning against the fence, I willed him to come over.

I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pet him, though. The fence was chain link and the gaps were too small for my hand to fit through.

We stood for a long time in the cold, the snow seeping through our shoes and soaking our socks. The wolves played on. Then, it happened. White came up to me at the fence!

Tentatively, I placed my hand on the fence, but I was right. It wouldn’t fit. There was only one other option — I had to put my fingers through. Did I dare? Sure, White was a wolf in captivity, but he was still a wolf. He might bite those fingers right off.

I risked it, sticking three fingers through the fence. I shivered as I touched White’s muzzle. His fur was soft and warm, just like a dog’s.

Quick as a flash, White’s mouth opened and I saw his teeth. I didn’t even have time to panic before his bright pink tongue snaked out and licked my fingers. Then he turned and scampered off to join his friend.

A wolf licked my hand! I was over the moon with joy. The cold couldn’t touch me after that magical encounter.

Wolves are creatures of the wild and should only be kept in captivity when there is no other choice, as with the rescued wolves at the Bed & Breakfast.

For the first part of my childhood, it was almost impossible to encounter wild wolves in Idaho and Montana, where I lived. But in 1995, wolves were reintroduced to Yellowstone National Park after they’d been hunted to near extinction in the American West.

From Yellowstone, wolves spread outward to other parts of the Rocky Mountain region, and small populations of them are thriving.

I hope someday to see another wolf in the wild, as I did once when a wolf crossed in front of my car on the highway (safely!), or to hear a pack of them howl as I once did while hiking in the mountains.

Thanks for reading, and thank you to the editors at Globetrotters (JoAnn Ryan, Anne Bonfert, Jillian Amatt — Artistic Voyages, Adrienne Beaumont, Michele Maize) for running such a great publication.

There have been so many great stories for September’s Wildlife challenge. Two I’ve especially enjoyed are by Anne Bonfert and Jillian Amatt - Artistic Voyages: