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Text and photographs Copyright © 2019 Jim and Jamie Dutcher
Compilation Copyright © 2019 National Geographic Partners, LLC
Published by National Geographic Partners, LLC. All rights reserved. Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents without written permission from the publisher is prohibited.
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Designed by Sanjida Rashid
Map: Evelyn B. Phillips; Map: National Geographic Maps; Illustration: Fernando G. Baptista.
The publisher would like to thank everyone who made this book possible: Kate Hale, executive editor; Paige Towler, associate editor; Mike McNey, cartographer; Shannon Hibberd, senior photo editor; Sally Abbey, managing editor; Joan Gossett, editorial production manager; and Anne LeongSon and Gus Tello, production assistants.
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-4263-3358-3
Reinforced library binding ISBN: 978-1-4263-3359-0
Ebook ISBN 9781426333606
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Jim and Jamie Dutcher grew up in different places, but they both loved exploring the great outdoors. They had a passion for observing wildlife that continues to this day. Along with that passion comes immense respect for wild animals, and for their wildness. If you see a wild animal, be respectful just like Jim and Jamie. Observe the animal from a safe distance and don’t disturb it. Let it be wild.
In this memoir, Jim and Jamie each tell different parts of their adventures with wolves. Jim tells much of the first half because Jamie didn’t join the wolf project until its third year. Yet, she was always very much a part of it. Long before she arrived at wolf camp, Jamie helped keep the project on a steady course through advice and encouragement offered in letters and phone conversations. Many of these communications are recalled in this story.
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For our grandchildren, Arianna, Sofia, Natalie, Sebastian, and Emiko; our nephew, Sam-Henry; and our niece, Madeline. And for young people everywhere—may you always follow your dreams. Together, we can make a difference for the natural world.
—Jim and Jamie Dutcher
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I stood silent and motionless, my eyes trained on the mysterious black hole in front of me. The opening was just two feet (0.6 m) wide, half hidden beneath a fallen spruce tree. Its oval shape reminded me of a dark, mystical eye, like that of a dragon. Such a thought of fantasy contrasted sharply with the reality of what I was about to do. It was something that no one had likely ever done.
I sniffled against the chilly April air. Spring had sprung a month earlier, according to the calendar anyway. Somewhere nourishing rains and lengthening days were coaxing flowers to show their colorful faces. Somewhere tree buds were awakening from their long winter rest, and grass was once again growing green.
Somewhere, but not here. Snow still covered most of the ground in the forest that surrounded me. The warmth of the season comes late, and slowly, to the mountains of Idaho.
I glanced at my husband, Jim, through a cloud of my condensed breath. He crouched nearby behind his movie camera. All of his years as a filmmaker led up to this moment, and he wasn’t about to let it slip by without capturing it on film.
Looking up from his eyepiece, he nodded. I walked cautiously toward the gaping black hole. With each step, I became more aware of the sounds around me. The gentle rush of a breeze and the chirping of black-capped chickadees mingled with the crunching and squishing of snow and mud under my boots. My own heartbeat reverberated through several layers of clothing.