A few years ago I was hunting on the west side of the Selkirks. It was a crisp September morning, the frost was still clinging onto the beargrass, where the sun hadn’t yet burned away the shade. Rowdy, my German shorthaired pointer, ran down the gated road in search of grouse. Shortly after beginning to hike behind Rowdy, I noticed lots of wolf tracks and scat on and off the road, the freshness of which varied from a year ago to just a few days old.

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