Vargr

Every morning I wake up in a house overlooking 500 acres of central Texas land that I manage called Valkyrie Ranch. As I drink my coffee and look outside, I see something different every day. This land is an exotic game ranch dedicated to preserving various types of animals that would otherwise be extinct (or heading in that direction) in their natural habitat, such as Piere-Davids, blackbuck, oryx, wildebeest, fallow, etc. Most of them roam freely around the property; some are in their enclosures - for their safety and ours. Working with them can be one of the most rewarding occupations, but it can also be one of the most heartbreaking.

As shepherds to our flock, we try to protect the young as best as possible. Sometimes, despite our efforts, we fall short. In October 2020, our smallest species, the Indian Blackbuck, started taking a tremendous loss from a population of around 200 to just under 150. A large portion of those losses was coming from predation. The predator influx came after a flood that wiped out one of our river crossings. They had quite a buffet, with very little to stop them. To protect our herds, we set out to take very drastic measures. Our methods consisted of live traps, snares, and paw traps, hoping to relocate as many as we could humanely.

Just two months into battling the predators invading our land, at about 430 am, I got a notification on my phone that something on the North gate game cam had been caught in the paw trap. I woke my son Kameron up to come to assist me. As we arrived at the gate, we saw what appeared to be something K-9. It couldn't have been a coyote; it was too large. Whatever it was, it wasn't an average dog. I own a german shepherd and a husky - its face looked different than either of theirs. His tail somewhat resembled my husky's, but his color was different. His build wasn't quite the same. As I slowly approached, I could see that his front right paw was in the trap, but he had somehow managed to crawl back under the gate and was outstretched as much as he could be.

I stepped closer, and his golden eyes locked with mine. I was in awe that he hadn't made any sound - no whimper, no growl, nothing. Absolute silence. I held out my hand through the fence, and for the first time, he broke eye contact to sniff me. With a gentle lick, he looked back into my eyes then turned his head away, hoping and trusting that he had put his trust into the right human. I turned back to my son,

"Kameron, I need you to step back so I can open this gate. When I do, he's going to have four feet of chain to use in any direction." I instructed him softly. Nervously, he nodded and did as I told him. I won't lie, we were both nervous. At any point, this creature could choose to attack me. The chain rattled as I slowly slid it through the gate. The crisp air revealed all of us breathing a little more anxiously as the gate opened slowly. It felt like time slowed down. To my surprise, he looked up at me almost in complete submission as he melted down to the ground at the gate entry, laying gently on the floor.

Kneeling just out of reach, I began to slowly reach out to pet his long blondish fur, keeping close attention to his radius. He continued to keep his eyes locked on mine as I gradually pet him closer to his neck and face. He gently licks my hand again while I try to reach his trapped foot, and still not a sound from him. I realized then to free him from the trap, I would have to place my face near his as my hands were working with the device on his paw. I thought to myself, 'This isn't exactly the safest thing.' I told my son I loved him as I put my face to this animal, forehead to forehead, for what seemed like ten minutes. Once I felt safe enough to try to release the trap, I slowly started fidgeting with the trap. For a moment, he pulled his face away but carefully brought his forehead back to mine, this time pushing himself a little onto me. I didn't have enough grip on my first try, and the trap slipped back onto his foot. I moved again on the trap with all I could, and finally, he was free. I laid there with this animal for probably 20 minutes, exhausted. Eventually, he was lying in my lap, and I could see he was still in shock and nervous but relieved that we had saved him.

I didn't have a pen or a separate kennel from the other dogs for him to stay in until we were sure of his personality, so we put him in a vacant horse stall for the night with some kibble and water and said goodnight. After all of the excitement, it was hard to sleep, so my son and I returned to check on him not much later. The dog heard us open the barn door, and we finally listened to his voice for the first time. As we opened his stall door, we heard him make a slight howling noise, but that was nothing compared to what my son caught on video. As I opened the door, he walked out with a slight limp, turned to the camera, and said, "I love you." I like to watch this video from time to time, and to this day, it's crystal clear that that's what he said. We kept him in the stall for three weeks as we tried to get him to eat something other than raw red meat. After all, as a predator most of his life, that's all he had eaten. He wouldn't even touch a hot dog or treats—just raw red meat. Slowly but surely, he began to nibble at the kibble we left for him, and we eventually cut the red food out of his diet while we trained him and brought him inside our house.

I took him to the vet and scanned for any microchips, but nothing came up. Next, I sent off his DNA to see what exactly he was, and it confirmed that he was a mix of Gray Wolf and Siberian Husky. Proving that he is, in fact, a wolf, we gave him the Norse name, Vargr, which is a particular word in Norse Mythology. Now a year later, this "vicious predator" sits with my wife while she reads and shares an apple with him. He soon became a part of our ranch family and quickly saw that although he is our "floofy boy" inside the house, he could turn right back to his old ways without a leash.

When the freeze hit Texas in February of 2021, Valkyrie Ranch took a massive hit before we had time to prepare. We can't handle most animals because they're wild, so we have to dart them with medication if they're sick. Rounding them up in one spot for warmth wasn't precisely an option. It transformed Texas into a tundra within a couple of days, and our African and Indian animals couldn't withstand the cold. Our animals slowly started dropping by day three—first the blackbucks here and there, then the wildebeests. A group of us on the ranch frantically tried to do what we could but to no avail. We had to watch this disaster unfold right in front of us. I began taking Vargr with me as I walked the property, trying to find those we could save. We would see them, mostly young, barely holding on for life. Vargr would lay beside them, attempting to warm them up, entirely against his natural character. Vargr reminded me why I do what I do; to save animals. A few months earlier, he was breaking in and killing the very animals he was now helping me keep alive.

After my morning coffee, I take him on my fence runs, where we check to see if there are any new openings or possible downed areas of the high fence surrounding the 500 acres. Ranch life isn't for everyone. Dealing with life and death day-in and day-out can often turn someone callus, having a person make decisions on an animal living or not. Saving Vargr saved me, and I was at a point where that decision was like deciding what shoes to put on for the day. He greets me every morning with honest, genuine love, an "I love you" howl, and sheer joy and excitement.

An old saying .. we all have two wolves inside us, one good one bad. The one that grows is the one we feed the most, I was starting to feed the wrong wolf and losing myself in monotony and isolation. It took the caring heart of a lost and lonely soul for me to see the path I was on.