2001 — 2013
Weeble
To say the loss of Weeble had profound effects upon the main pack would be an understatement. In human terms, his death left Nina a single mother with five young teenagers. Less than a week into her new role as sole alpha, she became much more intense in her discipline and protection of the juveniles. She was quicker and more severe in her corrections, and the juveniles responded appropriately without much back talk. Her protection of the pups noted in two incidents with two volunteers on two subsequent Sundays. Nina was behaving exactly as she should be.
Probably the most affected by the loss of Weeble were the "pups," who were just shy of two years old at the time. It took a few days for them to even realize what was going on (although they clearly acknowledged his passing at the time) and that life without their dad was the new normal. Rowdy youths in the midst of winter became shy and cautious, even with those of us who were closest with them. Even into the summer they were very cautious but gaining confidence as they grew from juveniles into adolescents.
A tribute to Weeble, from director Z Soffron
It is difficult to even put into thoughts, never mind words, who Weeble was. On the surface, he was a 150-pound North American Gray Wolf with striking amber eyes and a mane even Simba would envy. But Weeble was also a goof, a rebel, a brother, a father, a friend, a mentor, a teacher, an inspiration, a leader, and an alpha.
He and sister, Jelly, came to Wolf Hollow in the spring of 2001, at two weeks old, from Oatland Island Wildlife Center in Savannah, GA. (Captive wolves require bonding with humans, ideally starting between 12 and 14 days.) At three months, the siblings joined the main pack, which was still led by the founding Alpha female, TeeBee. Weeble's puppyhood consisted of being taught what it was to be a wolf, as well as daily squabbles with Jelly. As a yearling, Weeble was aloof but goofy. Never one to turn down a belly scratch, he could become serious in a heartbeat: having a sister like Jelly requires a wolf to be able to defend himself in an instant.
In the Spring of 2004, Weeble sustained serious injuries in an altercation with Jelly. They required emergency surgery. Weeble made a full recovery and was soon back in the main enclosure. Jelly, however, was moved to an "outback" enclosure with retired alpha male, Denali. (Jelly was again moved - within 24 hours - when it was noticed she took full advantage of Denali's poor vision in order to steal his food and knock him to the ground... Jelly being Jelly.)
During this time, Weeble soon climbed the social hierarchy and became the alpha male of the main pack. (Luna, after TeeBee's passing in 2002, assumed the role of alpha female.) Weeble, nearing four years old, was entering his prime. He was sure to let everyone around him, man and beast, know it.
Though Weeble was never a bully, he always defended himself - with ferocity when the situation called for it. He was incredibly patient, but had little tolerance for ignorance or stupidity. In many ways, he was a parallel to founder Paul C. Soffron, who passed away 3 months after Weeble and Jelly arrived. In the summer months, Weeble still loved belly scratches, as he did when a puppy. However, as the weather turned colder, so did he. He was the true embodiment of the powerful killing machine that stalks the frozen north. Although he never gifted me with anything more than a flesh wound, there were times I thought I might not make it out of his presence in one piece.
For two years, every interaction was a test with Weeble. Some days he would let me pick him up off the ground, other days he greeted me at the door, hackles and tail straight up, wagging....a deep guttural growl and a stare, more honest in its intent than a human would dare.
In 2005, Weeble's energies turned to helping Luna raise 2 puppies: Nina and Osa from Wolf Park. He was now confident in his role, and he knew I had no aspirations for his title. His mental and physical energies consumed by the puppies, he looked at me differently.
There were still good days and bad days. Weeble mellowed some, but all those old qualities were still apparent, especially during the cold months.
With the passing of Luna and subsequent relocation of Osa, it left Weeble and Nina in the main enclosure, which was down to just two wolves. Weeble, however, had no complaints. At 7 years old, he was more interested in belly scratches and rolling in scents than competing for much of anything. He was happy with Nina, but something was missing.
When we introduced puppies to Nina in the summer of 2011, her first reaction was to roll on her side in an effort to nurse. Though Nina and Weeble were not biological parents, instinct took over and there were no doubts about Nina as a mother. Weeble had a somewhat different reaction. For the next two weeks, visitors observed Weeble trotting away from the puppies while they bit and pulled at his legs, tail and hindquarters. It seemed then that Weeble, at ten years old, wanted nothing to do with them. In retrospect, based on the fact that he never broke into a full sprint to get away, he was probably guiding the pups through their earliest hunting classes.
Weeble spent the last two years of his life as a true alpha to a pack of 7. Along with Nina, they guarded, protected, coddled and put 5 puppies ahead of themselves. They also growled at, pinned down, and clamped down on the entire heads of puppies to teach them, as only a wolf can. Weeble was an amazing parent, consistently putting the needs of his family ahead of his own. He was a firm disciplinarian, an ambassador, and most of all, a dad. In his final years, he let the pups paw and crawl over him, showing a patience that had grown with his years.
On a personal note, I will forever continue to process what Weeble taught me, and may never understand it all. Weeble's 12 years saw me grow from 24 to 36 years old - much change indeed. He, along with Jelly, were the last two wolves named by Founder Paul C. Soffron, mere months before his passing from Alzheimer's. I was blessed with a son 11 months before Weeble's departure. Weeble and Paul's passings both share the number 13. My father on Friday, July 13, 2001 and Weeble in January of 2013. Random trinkets, I am aware, but maybe if you connect the dots, like the stars, there is a deeper picture.
My last wounds from Weeble - two punctures on my left hand - are bittersweet. Three days before he gave them to me, he allowed me to carry him across the enclosure to the holding pen. He never would have let me, if he was feeling right. When he grabbed my hand, protecting his food while I attempted a glucose reading, I was happy he had the strength to deliver his message. He died two days later, on his own terms.
Weeble touched literally thousands of lives in his 12 years. For some, he may have simply taught that wolves are not the monsters they are so often made out to be. For others, he brought tears to their eyes, and made them aspire to be more. For a select few, Weeble was literally a part of our souls, and the spirit of Wolf Hollow.
