The day I met a wolf on the roof of the world

Hide and seek - part 2

A hide is an essential part of a wildlife photographers or camera operators ‘box of tricks’. I was once told by a much more experienced cameraman than me that ‘if you can film wildlife successfully in the UK then you can do it anywhere in the world”. At some point or other much of the wildlife in the UK has been ‘fair game’ and so much of it is very wary, understandably so, making field craft as important as your skills behind the lens. 

In Orkney I use them mostly for bird photography but in other parts of the world I’ve used them with varying success with mammals. 

One of the best experiences I had in a hide was whilst filming on the Tibetan plateau. I was using a large American made hide or ‘blind’ in this case that had multiple struts making the hide rigid and roomy inside. Many of these blinds however are designed for shooting a rifle out of and not for filming. The windows as a result are larger but often triangle shaped because of the structure of the hide and a real pain as it limits how far left and right you can pan your lens before seeing some material in your image.

I was filming in the Hoh Xil UNESCO world heritage site, a critical habitat for the Tibetan antelope, also known as the chiru. It was a testing trip, I spent 6 weeks sleeping on a rickety old bed frame in a ships container not to mention the physical effects of working at altitude. Your body would sometimes remind you that you were at 15,000ft with a quick gasp of breath.

Wolves follow the chiru from the mountains to the valleys below and our task was to film the wolves hunting newborn chiru. I was all set up in my hide when I heard a crackle on my radio but couldn’t make out what was being said. As I looked up I could see an unmistakeable shape on the horizon; that of a lone wolf. I had seen a wolf pack earlier in the week but they clearly knew we were around and kept their distance, not so this individual. 

As I tried to keep my composure I focused on it as it trotted up towards the hide until it was a mere 10 metres away. It was a beautiful creamy white colour and was clearly moulting as great clods of fur trailed from its coat. It could see me in the hide as it moved its head back and forth to get a better view. Then, to my surprise it sat down and started grooming itself. I count myself very lucky to have had this experience. Humans have treated the wolf appallingly through the centuries and its great to see it making a comeback on its own terms across Europe in particular.

It irked me that one of the local crew manning the station we were staying at disregarded this wolf - ‘what a stupid animal’ the inference being it wouldn’t survive long if it approached humans with such abandon. My take was slightly different, a highly intelligent animal checking out an alien structure in an environment it likely knew like the back of its paw. 

This might be the most emotional I’ve been in a hide too. I felt euphoric but almost overcome at the beauty of the encounter and don’t mind admitting I shed a tear. By some strange coincide I had been reading a book in the hide by one of my favourite writers, Scotsman Jim Crumley, when the wolf approached the hide. Would you believe me if I said the book was called The Last Wolf? A thoughtful ode to these marvellous creatures. Jim argues the wolf has been a victim of ‘black propaganda’ at the hands of historians and folk tales and that this distortion prevents people from thinking rationally about the benefits of wolves in our landscape. This couldn’t be more pertinent, there is very little in the way of balance in the Scottish landscape today, certainly not the kind of balance an apex predator brings to whole ecosystems.

A hide had been constructed for me prior to arriving on site too. It was neat and tidy, covered by a camouflage net and situated near a prominent chiru migration route. Much to my horror I only noticed one of the park rangers had cut holes in every side of the hide once he had finished. This rendered the inside like a freezing cold wind tunnel with frigid air constantly whizzing through the hide. One of the problems with hides in this environment though is there is absolutely no cover, on the steppe a structure like this sticks out like a sore thumb.

At night I would sleep in the 4x4 as the snow fell. As beautiful as it was it was nothing compared to the drama being played out on the iPad of the head ranger who’s vehicle I napped in. A Chinese crime show I think. 

Another hide I used to film Tibetan foxes ended up in the local river after a storm blew through and later the very close proximity of footprints belonging to a Tibetan bear brought home how wild a landscape I was working in. 

As the weeks passed by sightings of chiru became less frequent as the majority had given birth and were already heading back to the mountains. Occasionally I would see my white wolf and I can see him now as I type. His eyes are as strong as ever and peer back at me though the hide window from his framed picture on my wall. I think about him often, of him wandering the steppe and hope he has managed to survive the perils of the modern world.