2011 — 2020
Arrow
Arrow and his siblings (Grendel, Nevaeh, Linnea, and Argus) were born in April of 2011 to Loki and Loki Sioux at Wolf Creek Habitat in Indiana. In early May of 2011 they made their journey to Massachusetts.
As a youngster, Arrow was a very shy and reserved puppy with no real interest in being the boss. As he got older, he became a lot more confident and social with his pack as well as friendly and affectionate with his caretakers. Over his lifetime, Arrow lived in the main enclosure for the majority of life, but lived out the last couple of years of his life in an enclosure with his siblings Linnea and Argus.
Arrow grew into a self-confident, mature male wolf with the thickest fur coat out of his siblings, a dark patch on his snout and giant soulful eyes. Arrow had an extremely distinct howl and you could always pick his voice out from the rest of the pack. He was truly one of a kind.
Arrow was the first of his littermates to pass away in the summer of 2020 at the age of 9.
A tribute to Arrow, from volunteer Christine Anckner
Arrow was born old. Even at two years old when I met him, he had the wisest, saddest eyes. Imagine my surprise when, as we came to know each other, I realized what a goofy, free spirited personality he was. I used to joke around with other volunteers and say, "There's our Big Lebowski Wolf. Arrow, The Dude, abides." He was just relaxed and groovy. All the time. "He does not match those ancient eyes," I used to think. "They must belong to someone else."
Today we lost a very special wolf, and our hearts ache. He had a sweet and gentle heart, and loved a good butt scratch more than anything, except treats. He was eager to see our visitors, and was a spectacular ambassador for his wild cousins. Because of Arrow, thousands of people now have a better understanding of what it means to be a wolf, and why it matters to all of us that wolves continue to be just that: a wolf, in the wild, regulating ecosystems and maintaining a healthy planet. What a legacy.
Losing these guys never gets any easier. I know it's a hazard of the job, but it's difficult every time. It isn't the same as losing a pet (its own special grief), it's more than that. Because they aren't pets. They don't belong to us, or to anyone else. We are responsible forever for their wellbeing and happiness, because we ask them to do what wild wolves cannot. "Teach them," we ask. "They have questions," we say. "How do you act? Why are you important? Why should they care? We have to show them." And then, we do. We're co-workers, really. If we're lucky enough we become friends, too.
Arrow with the wise, sad eyes was my friend. One of my first friends, in fact, in my early years of volunteering. He was welcoming like that. Always down for a good time, ready to make more pals, living every moment exactly like it was the only thing he had, so it was the only thing that mattered. Maybe that was the wisdom behind those soulful eyes after all. No one understands how hard life can be like a wolf; might as well have a good time while we're here. I believe he did. I know my time here is immeasurably better because, for at least a little while, he shared his with me.
From time into eternity, peace be the journey my friend.