Wolves at Candy Kitchen Rescue Ranch

Not being the purest of wolves, they howl at the sun. As soon as it crests the continental divide 15 miles to the east, all 63 mouths gape at the sky and let loose the call of the wild. But despite their most sincere efforts to sound like a real pack of wolves, their dawn concerto is off-key, warbled and punctuated with short slobbering barks. In fact, it sounds more like the call of the weird. So begins another day at the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary, New Mexico.

This 42-acre homestead between the Ramah Navajo and Zuni reservations provides sanctuary to abused and abandoned captive-bred wolves and wolf dogs from as far away as New Jersey, Michigan and Washington. With a mission to educate the public on the wild wolf and wolf dog ownership, artist Jacque Evans founded the ranch in 1991, supporting the effort with the sale of her paintings. In 1993, Barbara Berge, a British actress who made a career on Manhattan stages, moved to the area and joined the cause as general manager. Neither had any previous experience in running an animal refuge.

Now as many as 12 hybrids a week show up at the Wolf Ranch, often unannounced. Almost all are turned away to fates unknown. There's no more room, and not enough food or money for veterinarians. And, usually, not enough people to clean the pens, build new ones and give the animals the individual attention they need. For the greater part of 1998, only 5 people remained available for these duties, resulting in a stressful wolf- to-human ratio of nearly 13 to 1.

Training new volunteers is a time-consuming responsibility, the bulk of which seems to fall on Layton, a second-year volunteer. With hybrids of high wolf content, like Zeus, Natasha and Ghengis, Layton advises: "You have to work with them for a minimum of 2 months before they'll let you in their pen, sometimes longer. And it's heartbreaking when they won't."

As he slips into their pen, they bow and lower their tails and ears, maintaining this gesture of submission until one breaks rank and lunges for Layton's face. The others follow suit and soon Layton is covered with more slobbering kisses than a DiCaprio glossy in a girls' dormitory.

Layton senses a good rapport between Brett, the new education coordinator, and a pack of high wolf content hybrids. I sense it too: The hyper hybrids pile up at the gate and shove their noses through the chain link whenever Brett comes near, and he shows no hesitancy when Layton asks if he's ready to go into the pen.

Before they enter, Layton issues this final warning about the alpha male: "Just hold on to your groin 'cause he'll nail you." Brett shuffles into the pen, one hand out for greeting, the other ready to fend off ballistic paws. They clamor at his legs, stomach and chest, each vying for that envious position to lick at his face.

"Watch his dew claws," Layton continues. "He punctured my scrotum and stripped the skin off another guy's groin."

Their welcoming frenzy escalates into a snarling shoving match, a kind of mini mosh pit. Brett holds up solidly, but it's clear they could level him with one coordinated push. He tries to calm them with an even distribution of affection, scratching behind the ears and stroking the muzzles, but they just get more worked up.

"There's no wearing them out," Layton says, fending off the affectionate assaults that sail his way. "They've bloodied me quite a bit, but there's no ill intent." He signals Brett back to the gate, indicating that the first inside meeting is over, but Brett doesn't seem to be in any hurry to leave.

The next morning, Brett asks me if I would like to go with him into Nayati's pen. Before answering, I consult Nayati's bio sheets, which report that he "came to Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary when he was 11 months old on Earth Day of 1996. He had initially been raised in a furniture factory and then was sold at 10 weeks of age to a woman who raises llamas... Nayati is socialized, loves everyone, including all children. He is mellow and gentle and weighs in at about 130 lbs. He is a timber/tundra cross." Reading this, I think of a line from King Lear: "He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf."

Nayati also had a part in John Carpenter's Vampires. "It's not a big role," Brett says. "He just walks up to a corpse and eats its guts."

The moment I step into the cage with Nayati, he backs me into a corner and stands on his hind legs. With his paws pressing down on my shoulders and his eyes even with mine -- my worst fear is that he'll bite my camera. So when I see his gaping jaws zeroing in on the lens, I raise my forearm to defend it. Rows of fangs close down on my flesh, applying less pressure than you would use to hold a pint of beer.

"Vampire wolf's biting my arm," I tell Brett.

"Corner's not a good place to stand," he replies.

I push Nayati away and approach the center of the pen, only to be assaulted by his partner, Khan, a clumsy dog who, as far as I can tell, hasn't a trace of wolf in him. But both soon lose interest in me as Khan tries to mount Nayati. Nayati wants no part of it, and fends off Khan with guttural snarling and several warning chomps to the head. When Barbara catches me photographing the fracas, she asks, "Are you trying to get them looking vicious?"

I tell her no, they're looking vicious without my help.

Barbara's passion for defending the hybrids is admirable, and I can appreciate her dilemma. Emphasizing the dangerous side of wolves and consequences of irresponsible wolf-dog ownership can add to a climate of fear and lend support to legislation calling for the ban and extermination of wolf dogs -- and that seems to be her biggest fear.

However, romanticizing these animals can increase the demand for wolf dogs and lead to reckless breeding and ownership. When Kevin Costner danced among them he inadvertently opened a gold mine for wolf-dog breeders, doing for them what Taco Bell now does for Chihuahua vendors. The difference is that people don't try to beat Chihuahuas into submission or abandon them to the wild when they get out of hand. And to date, no one has ever suffered a fatal Chihuahua attack

I spend the greater part of the afternoon trying to determine where Barbara strikes a balance between the joys and hazards of wolf dogs. It's not easy. Keeping up with her is like tracking a coyote in bad weather. She's running a shuttle relay between the pens and her computer, hauling bags of feed and cursing her software. I'm just another distraction in her busy schedule, and I believe she's not putting a whole lot of thought into the answers she gives me. For example, when I ask her if there's more risk in owning a wolf dog than any other dog, she answers flatly: "No."

"Seriously. I mean, consider dachshunds."

She thinks for a moment (appears to, anyway) and replies, "From what I understand, dachshunds can be nasty creatures. Always nipping at your ankles and such."

She embraces a hybrid named Ghengis and says, "Ghengis has been attacking men lately." Then she approaches a black wolf with yellow eyes and says, "But Raven is extremely social, thanks to the care and patience of his previous owner."

Asked why anyone would give up such a friendly and beautiful animal, she explains the owner suffered a heart attack after losing both his job and his home, and had no choice but to leave Raven to the mercy of Animal Control. Realizing that mercy would expire in 48 hours, the Wolf Ranch launched an Internet campaign to save Raven from being put down. With only an hour remaining, a check for $400 came through, and Raven was theirs.

I ask what happened to the man, the one who lost his job, home, health and beloved pet. Judging by her response, I reckon this question never came up before. She shrugs and says, "I have no idea." It seems of little importance considering the victory scored for Raven.

As for the other 62 wolves and wolf-dogs, all seem healthy despite occasional, yet fierce struggles for dominance. By the end of my week's stay on the ranch, Nayati, the vampire wolf, is the only one that seems to care about me, leaping like a Pronghorn every time I pass his pen. The rest just turn their noses up and howl at the sun.

Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary is an eighty-acre sanctuary in the high desert of southwest New Mexico. At 7,600' elevation, our wooded acreage provides a beautiful habitat for the many wolves that spend their lives at our Sanctuary.

The rescued wolves and wolf-dog crosses at our sanctuary were all captive bred and were originally sold to be pets. All our animals are spayed and neutered. Our sanctuary never breeds or sells animals.

All animals live their lives in compatible pairs or groups of three or four. We have different sized enclosures, depending on the number of animals and their specific needs. The habitat enclosures that we build today are no smaller than 5,000 square feet per pair of wolves. We have 3 one-third acre habitats, a single acre enclosure, and several enclosures just under one-quarter acre.

Their web site is www.wildspiritwolfsanctuary.org