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Friday, October 22, 2021

Guest article: Wolf management in Michigan should set good example

By Jeffrey Towner*

Gray Wolf. (Photo © and courtesy Gary Kramer/U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service)

We are currently in the midst of an acrimonious debate in Michigan concerning management of gray wolves. For me this is an unwelcome déjà vu. Prior to retirement I supervised the endangered species program of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in West Virginia and North Dakota. The gray wolf was on the federal list of endangered species in North Dakota during my tenure there. The common attitude of North Dakota landowners toward wolves was that they should be, and often were, shot on sight, even though it was a violation of federal law. During the 12 years I lived in Alaska, official state management included gunning wolves from the air, among other heinous practices.

One of the last acts of the Trump administration was the removal of the gray wolf from the list of endangered species, which returned management authority to the states. Last February a rushed wolf season in Wisconsin, contrary to the recommendations of the Wisconsin DNR, resulted in the harrying and killing of 216 wolves in four days, exceeding the quota set by the state by nearly 100 animals. Michigan is now conducting a public process designed to have the Wolf Management Advisory Council (WMAC) provide nonbinding recommendations to the state on wolf management. Many of the public comments made to the WMAC, and the attitude of many U.P. hunters, without any scientific basis, is that wolves pose a threat to the white-tailed deer herd, and thus the wolf population should be drastically reduced. Although it appears the DNR is attempting to follow a deliberative, science-driven process, they are being subjected to an all-too-familiar pressure campaign.

We too often hear public criticism of the Michigan DNR, and admonitions for them to "get on with it," to "stop kicking the can down the road," and similar criticisms. Such comments do not recognize the vital importance of engaging in a deliberative process, and of gathering all the information needed to make decisions on complex and controversial issues like wolf management.

I have been a hunter for much of my life, and I have passed that tradition on to my son, who is a Michigan hunter. I fully understand that deer hunters want to venture into the field with a reasonable chance of seeing and harvesting a deer. However, although the deer herd is managed for hunting, deer hunters have no special claim either to the deer or to the way wolves are managed. Non-consumptive uses of wolves -- to include simply the knowledge that they exist -- have equal, if not greater, inherent value as consumptive uses. These wildlife resources are part of our birth right as Americans, and they belong to all of us.

I believe we should view the issue of gray wolves in Michigan in a broader context. We are living through the Earth’s sixth mass extinction event of species and the collapse of ecosystems all over the world. Extinctions are occurring at a rate estimated at 100 to 1,000 times greater than natural background rates. The 2019 Global Assessment Report on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services, published by the United Nations' Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services, posits that roughly one million species of plants and animals face extinction within decades as the result of human actions. In this context we should bear in mind that the gray wolf was only removed from the list of endangered species in January this year, and the definition of endangered means that a species is in danger of going extinct.

The gray wolf is a keystone species, which means they have a greater effect on their natural environment relative to their abundance. Eliminating or greatly reducing keystone species can lead to ecosystem degradation or even collapse. Review of the relevant scientific literature points to the fact that wolves and the animals making up their prey base, if left to their own devices, will reach equilibrium.

As a recently restored meta-population of wolves, we must ensure that Michigan wolves will continue to be secure in healthy numbers far into the future. A majority of Michiganders surveyed take great pride in the fact that at least in the UP we have adequate suitable habitat, an adequate prey base, sufficient human tolerance, and years of dedication and hard work by the professionals at the DNR, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), non-governmental organizations, and concerned citizens -- resulting in a population of wolves sufficient to have them considered recovered. And by the way, a significant amount of taxpayers’ dollars have been spent in the recovery of wolves. Every wolf killed is in a sense being subsidized by the taxpayers.

Gray Wolf. (Photo credit: Tracy Brooks/Mission Wolf / USFWS)

Any decision on a wolf season must be based on the best available science. Research conducted over many years by the DNR clearly demonstrates that deer numbers are determined by many other factors other than predation by wolves. Research in the Upper Peninsula as well as in other locations in the country show that reducing the wolf population as a way to boost deer populations is not justified. A season on wolves must not be held as an experiment. Where would we find a control population? How would we control for other variables affecting the deer herd beyond wolf predation, such as disease, body condition, human harvest, weather, habitat and food availability?

Before any decision is reached on holding a wolf season, the DNR should first complete its revision of the Wolf Management Plan on the timeline determined appropriate by the Director -- and after conducting a thorough survey of all interested Michiganders, not just Yoopers. Killing wolves seems to be a winning issue among the science-denying crowd, and unfortunately a number of politicians are grandstanding and interfering with the process deemed appropriate by the wildlife professionals charged with managing this resource.

The current assault on wolves is calling into question the ability of states to responsibly manage this species. In Montana the hunting and trapping season in 2019 killed nearly 300 wolves. In Wyoming it is legal in most of the state to shoot wolves on sight as vermin or to chase a wolf on a snowmobile until it collapses and run over it until dead. (A bill outlawing this practice was resoundingly defeated in the legislature.) In Idaho it is legal to trap wolf pups outside a den and beat them to death. Contrary to expert opinion of the Idaho Fish and Game Department, a recent bill was passed to have 90 percent of the population (from ~1,500 to 150) killed by contractors, with no limit on private hunters, no closed season in most of the state, and allowing the use of motorized vehicles and night vision equipment. In Alaska the Trump administration allowed the destruction of wolf adults and pups in their den in national preserves. None of this is justified on a scientific or moral basis. This state mismanagement has resulted in calls for the Fish and Wildlife Service to place the gray wolf back on the endangered species list.

Gray Wolf pups. (Photo credit: Voyageurs Wolf Project Recipient of 2020 National Wolfwatcher Wolf Education Mini- Grant)

For those wolf hunt advocates who claim to be sportsmen and sportswomen who believe in fair chase, where is the outrage over such practices? In my view the only legitimate scientific reason for taking wolves is for those individual animals that have been documented as killing livestock or pets be removed by the DNR. There is certainly no compelling reason to hold a wolf trapping and hunting season based on the demands of a vocal minority. Above all, let’s make sure that in Michigan we manage our wolves scientifically and humanely and ensure that we never have to witness an uncontrolled slaughter like the one that occurred last winter in Wisconsin.**

Editor's Notes:

* Guest author Jeffrey Towner is a Certified Wildlife Biologist and member of the board of directors of the Upper Peninsula Environmental Coalition (UPEC). 

** See these New York Times articles: "Wisconsin More Than Doubles Wolf-Hunting Quota, Angering  Conservationists." (Aug. 11, 2021) and "Wisconsin Hunters Kill Over 200 Wolves in Less Than 3 Days." (March 3, 2021)

UPDATE: Some good recent news from Wisconsin: See "'Catastrophic and Irreparable Harm' to Wolves Averted as Wisconsin Judge Cancels Hunt."

Monday, October 18, 2021

Guest article: People of the Heart Water Walk offers hope for area lake

By Theresa Pitts*

Theresa Pitts, KBIC (Keweenaw Bay Indian Community) member, stands at Astor Shipwreck Park, Copper Harbor, on the first morning of the 2021 People of the Heart Water Walk. (Photo © and courtesy J. Pitts)

As an Anishinaabe born in the Keweenaw, I cut my teeth along its many miles of shoreline. I gleaned a healthy respect for the power of the "Big Lake" and crab crawled carefree in the shallows of the Portage. I shared in the bounty of a Rice Lake catch and paused at the pebbled edge of Fannie Hooe, curious about her namesake. Lakes were elemental to my childhood here in the Copper Country -- they were my relatives. Yet there was one body of water which held me at arm’s length, one which seemed orphaned from the rest. I woke to it each day. Watched its changing moods. Marked its shifting colors. That was the lake that piqued my interest. And it lay in my own backyard: Torch Lake.

To a child’s eye, Torch Lake looked not unlike other lakes in the area -- a magnificent field of blue, a playground waiting to be discovered. Ripples blew like whistles across her surface, and the Keweenaw sun glinted like fallen stars upon her quiver. Overhead, seagulls squawked and squabbled. Their elongated wings swooped to and fro, surfing wind currents, weaving a soiled, ivory fabric overhead. It was mesmerizing.

The late autumn sun lights Torch Lake in Hubbell. (Photo © and courtesy J. Pitts)

But there was more to Torch Lake than met the eye. Though her surface appeared fresh and inviting, a dark history lay below. Once a deep, clear, fish-rich glacial bowl, Torch had fallen victim to the mounds of gray sand which now filled her belly and marked her boundaries -- stamp sand dumped there by copper giants Quincy, C and H, and Ahmeek, among others. The sand damaged the lake’s ecosystem, smothered vegetation, starved the fish. And that wasn’t all. There were toxins, too. Heavy metals in the tailings wreaked havoc. And with the dumping of sand came the disposition of mining chemicals as well: arsenic, mercury, PCBs, and PAHs. The lake was churning with enough toxins to endanger entire towns, much less its delicate populations of Northern Pike, Sturgeon, or Smallmouth Bass.

And so the lake became off limits.

The Quincy Dredge lists along the Torch Lake shoreline. (Photo © and courtesy Theresa Pitts)

The fishing ceased. The swimming ceased. The wading met its end. Torch Lake grew silent in her pain. But still we heard it. We, her neighbors perched upon the edge of this ecological disaster -- the residents of Lake Linden, Hubbell, Tamarack City, and Mason. Our lake views now served as constant reminders of what had happened to the waters, to the fish, to the vegetation. Undoing the damage seemed insurmountable. Even the Environmental Protection Agency struggled to right the wrongs committed upon Torch Lake.

But there are other ways to heal the water. Other methods. Other beliefs. And last week was one example. 

On October 9-11, the third annual People of the Heart Water Walk took place in the Keweenaw. It was a departure from science and industry; a chance to offer spiritual comfort to the waters of our peninsula, to sing and pray for its healing. It was a time to peacefully call attention to the plight of what we as Anishinaabe call Nibi, our word for water. Some two dozen individuals from the U.P. to lower Michigan to Wisconsin joined together with one common goal: to walk on water’s behalf.

A group of Water Walkers make their way along M-26 in Keweenaw County on the first morning of the walk. (Photo © Terri Denomie and courtesy Theresa Pitts)

An Anishinaabe ceremony which welcomes all to participate, the three-day Water Walk began in the early morning hours along Gitchigami’s shoreline in Copper Harbor. A headlamp glowed as the women prepared traditional medicines for the walk. The sun was slow to rise that morning, like a bear heavy with the approach of winter’s slumber. The Superior breeze was present but kind. And our ears and hearts were filled with the melody of our purpose: the sound of rushing water from Fannie Hooe Falls to our west.

The group walked over thirty miles that day. Grandmothers and mothers, fathers and children. They skirted M-26 through Eagle Harbor and Eagle River, then turned south toward Mohawk where they rested for the night. Though I had been with them that morning to see them off, I didn’t join the walk myself until the second day. The clouds were low overhead. There was mist in the air and the wind had picked up. We walked through Calumet and Laurium, then down into the valley. I could see the tip of Torch Lake below, could feel my calling. Yes, I was walking for all water, but it was Torch Lake which I would focus on that day. It was this lake that needed my attention the most. And so, as we passed through the streets of Lake Linden, I contacted our support crew. "I’ll meet you near Hubbell," I told them. "I’d like to walk from there to Mason."

Theresa Pitts carries Nibi near Calumet. Mike Rodriquez walks beside her with the Eagle Staff. (Photo © Terri Denomie and courtesy Theresa Pitts)

I left the group and was driven ahead, where I stood waiting in the shadow of the old C and H Mineral Building at Hubbell’s edge. It stands as proof of the industrial surge. Its property line is fenced, and signs posted warn of the dangers that lie beyond -- primarily roofing asbestos, an airborne health hazard. Mining affected more than our waters.

When the group approached, the copper vessel in which a small amount of Nibi is carried was relayed to me as I headed off through town. To my left I had a protector, a local pastor who carried the Eagle Staff. Behind me a group of young adults, students from Michigan Tech, all walked with us, their spirits high, their company welcomed. We traveled through Hubbell, my childhood home, then continued onto Tamarack City. We passed the sandstone ridge beyond, gazed at the old Quincy Mill, paid homage to the lopsided dredge. Then suddenly, my goal came into sight: the first hints of Mason, a former Quincy Mining Company town. As a child I had spent much of my life in Mason. My gramma lived there. Other family members kept homes in Mason, too. Back then, we children sometimes walked along the base of the sandbank, the gray sands of the town’s Stamp Mill and Reclamation Plant seeping into our sneakers. It was in Mason where I learned of the dangers of Torch Lake. It was there I came to understand at an early age that her water was sick.

Theresa Pitts and other Water Walkers reach Mason in Osceola Township. Rev. Bucky Beach of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church walks beside her with the Eagle Staff. (Photo © Charli Mills and courtesy Theresa Pitts)**

As I walked along, I sang to Nibi. I sang to Torch Lake. I sent good thoughts in all directions. I prayed that the lake would heal. That her water would recover. That the fish would one day find new sources of food. That their deformities I’d heard talk of would end. I told my walking companions of my story, of having grown up along that stretch. I wanted them to make a personal connection to that wounded space. I hoped to foster empathy. I prayed the lake would feel our compassion.

We were nearing the Mason sign when the pastor spotted something overhead. "There’s an eagle," he said. I kept my eyes ahead, my heart full, as the others watched it weave in and out of the treetops. To the Anishinaabe, Migizi, the Bald Eagle, is a comfort. Not only is it indoodem, my clan, but it is the spirit that carries our prayers to the Creator.

I hope that was exactly what Migizi had in mind . . . 

Editor's Notes:

* Guest author Theresa Pitts, KBIC member and Keweenaw resident, writes both fiction and creative nonfiction. She is a student of Anishinaabe culture and language and is active in the protection and preservation of wolves in the state of Michigan.

** Watch for another article on the 2021 People of the Heart Water Walk, with more photos, coming soon.