As discussed extensively elsewhere in this volume, the recolonisation of Europe by wolves means that the UK increasingly becomes an outlier in its lack of apex predators. If the UK was not physically detached from mainland Europe, wolves would likely soon cross our borders (Gwynn and Symeonakis 2022). In this chapter we discuss the case for reintroducing wolves to the UK, and we draw on a now nearly 20-year-old paper by Charles Wilson (2004), who reviewed the case for large carnivore reintroductions to the UK. In the original paper, Wilson considered four main questions: Do we have enough room for large carnivores? Are large carnivores a threat to people? Would their impact on livestock, game or wildlife be unacceptable? Would the British public support reintroductions? To these four questions we have added a fifth: What is the legal context for a reintroduction?

Pioneering 18th-century English naturalist, the Reverend Gilbert White (1720–93), knew that large carnivores would have populated prehistoric Selborne. He set the scene in the opening sentences of Letter I in The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne (White 1789):

A high point of 210m (689ft) for Selborne Hill hardly makes this a mountainous district. Possibly due to the discoveries of many hundreds of Roman copper coins at nearby Woolmer Pond in 1741, White seems to suggest that it was the Romans that first settled this landscape rather than returning hunter-gatherers in the post-glacial landscapes of the Holocene (Crane 2016). However, he made a reasonable assumption that the area was home to wolves and bears that had re-colonised Britain 13–9,900 years ago from southern refugia (Montgomery et al 2014).

After the reintroduction of gray wolves

to Yellowstone and, as anticipated, their culling

of deer, trees grew beyond the deer stunt

of the mid-century. In their up reach

songbirds nested, who scattered

seed for underbrush, and in that cover

warrened snowshoe hare. Weasel and water shrew

returned, also vole, and came soon hawk

and falcon, bald eagle, kestrel, and with them

hawk shadow, falcon shadow. Eagle shade

and kestrel shade haunted newly-berried

runnels where deer no longer rummaged, cautious

as they were, now, of being surprised by wolves. Berries

brought bear, while undergrowth and willows, growing

now right down to the river, brought beavers,

who dam. Muskrats came to the dams, and tadpoles.

Came, too, the night song of the fathers

of tadpoles. With water striders, the dark

gray American dipper bobbed in fresh pools

of the river, and fish stayed, and the bear, who

fished, also culled deer fawns, and to their kill scraps

came vulture and coyote, long gone in the region

until now, and their scat scattered seed, and more

trees, brush, and berries grew up along the river

that had run straight and so flooded but thus dammed,

compelled to meander, is less prone to overrun. Don’t

you tell me this is not the same as my story. All this

life born from one hungry animal, this whole,

new landscape, the course of the river changed,

I know this. I reintroduced myself to myself, this time

a mother. After which, nothing was ever the same.

In North America, and more recently in Europe, the grey wolf (Canis lupus, and its close relative the Eurasian wolf, Canis lupus lupus) have staged a remarkable recovery over the last few decades. In this book we explore various aspects of this recovery, alongside some of the history, literature and myth surrounding this most iconic of species. We also meet some wolves that have headed south and consider the many faces of the dingo – from outback wolf to feral dog, and the Tasmanian wolf that never was a wolf. Perhaps no other species has polarised human opinion more than the wolf, a trend which continues to this day. The wolf can be simultaneously an inspirational emblem of the wild and an embodiment of evil, a pest to be managed or worse, eradicated (as was the case in the UK). In other books and papers, many of the authors in this volume have spoken of the need for compassion and coexistence with non-human species, even if at times this means accepting that our behaviour has to change and this might come at a cost.

As with our previous work on bears, we knew that there was a rich seam of information to mine here – not only on the biology and taxonomy of wolves, but more importantly on the human-wolf relationship and how this has been expressed in folklore, in first nations’ societies, in adult and children's literature, in exhibitions, zoos, museums and in art. Given a book of this scope, it was also inevitable that we would end up invoking Godwin's Law, and the emergence of Nazi Werewolves from Outer Space. We wanted also to discuss how our perception of wolves is influenced by the manner in which they are revealed to the public in the wild, to the fascinated gaze of tourists.

To achieve these wide-ranging aims we have been fortunate to bring together a distinguished field of authors, all of whom have addressed wolf species from different standpoints. To all of them we are extremely grateful for their time, expertise and patience, but especially so to the two doyens of wolf studies and rewilding, Luigi Boitani and Mark Fisher, who have kindly provided the Foreword and Afterword for this book

INTRODUCTION

The contemporary story of the wolves of Yellowstone National Park (YNP) has become part of the fabric of the American west. The short film, How Wolves Change Rivers, which combines footage of Yellowstone with narration by journalist George Monbiot (Sustainable Human, 2014) has been viewed over 43 million times (including adoption by school curricula globally), and has contributed to popularising the concept that reintroducing wolves has caused ‘trophic cascades’ in YNP. This is an irresistible story, one which appeals to conservationists on many levels. Wolves are charismatic carnivores, and the film's narrative provides a simple explanation of trophic cascades and their potential. Monbiot's narration speaks of ‘bare valley sides’ becoming ‘forests of aspen and willow and cottonwood’, with wolves causing a ‘radical change’ in ungulate behaviour.

This is known as the ‘ecology of fear’ effect, where the presence of a predator causes a behavioural change in another species. In Yellowstone the introduction of wolves leads ungulates to avoid areas where they are most vulnerable to predation. The decrease in valley herbivory has resulted not only in an increase in species diversity as available habitat increased, but also the increased vegetation cover led to a reduction in soil erosion. It is argued that the ‘instrumentally valuable’ wolves have also transformed the physical geography of YNP – or so the story goes. However, there is still considerable scientific debate regarding the ecological impact of the wolf reintroduction to YNP and the mechanisms by which impacts are mediated, as will be discussed later in the chapter.

Emma Marris (2014, 2017), amongst others, has questioned the evidence that the re-introduction of wolves triggered the purported trophic cascades in Yellowstone. In a 2014 Nature paper she cites the work of Marshall et al (2013), who suggest that it is beavers, rather than wolves, that play a key role in helping willows thrive, adding that the removal of wolves in the 1920s allowed elk to eat so much willow that there was none left for the beavers, causing their decline. Marris's point is that the absence of a scientific consensus is not reflected in the popular press, with a simplistic version of the scientific story being reported far more often than the more complex, but more accurate, reality (Marris 2017).

Bears and humans have co-existed for thousands of years. All eight species of bear have occupied a particular niche in human culture and development, from prehistoric times through to the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) adoption of the panda bear as the organisation's logo. The most ‘exotic species’ of bear (such as sloth bear and the polar bear) have sparked the interest of animal collectors since at least 2500 BCE. Ever since that time, bears have featured in private animal collections, and with the rise of the modern (public) zoo in the 18th century, exhibited for human entertainment in zoological gardens, museums, circuses, street theatre, cafes, film and TV. They have danced, walked the tightrope, dressed up as children, and played the part of human friend (eg Grizzly Adams) and adversary (eg The Revenant), all in the name of entertaining humans. They have also played a role in traditional medicines, particularly in the East where for hundreds of years bear bile has been used for a range of curative properties.

As a result, captive bears are found all over the world, even in the most remote places. Unfortunately, many captive bears are still housed in small barren ‘crush cages’, deprived of even the most basic needs and care such as water, proper food and shelter. Globally, various species of bear are privately owned (often illegally); they are kept in backyards, next to petrol stations or roadside restaurants, or on public display at a beach or café to attract customers. Most of these bears will have health problems and display chronic behavioural problems associated with captivity. These bears are usually wild-caught as cubs, a practice that is a significant threat to the wild population in many regions. Other bears feature in circuses, typically performing by balancing on a rope during the show then spending the rest of the day confined in small circus trailers. We are perhaps most familiar with bears from visits to a zoo, where the quality of the enclosure varies from a cage barely larger than the bear to large naturalistic enclosures that resemble the bears’ wild habitat.