Part 4 of Beyond the Count: the science, the stories, and the stakes
When we talk about wolves in Minnesota—or anywhere in North America—there’s one question that always seems to dominate:
How many are there?
But here’s the thing: Wolves are more than a number. And their value doesn’t begin or end at 2,919.
The Problem With Managing Wolves by Headcount
As I wrote in Part II, our current wolf population estimate relies on a narrow and fragile equation—one that’s deeply sensitive to small changes in territory size, pack structure, or lone wolf assumptions. It produces a number, and we call that number “stable.”
But what does “stable” mean, really?
- Does it mean the wolves are functioning ecologically as they should?
- Does it mean they’re able to disperse and connect with other populations?
- Does it mean they’re genetically diverse enough to persist over time?
- Does it mean their packs are intact, socially cohesive, and raising pups successfully?
Or does it just mean the number hasn’t changed much?
If we only track wolves by headcount, we’re certainly not managing for health, or resilience, or coexistence.
So, what are we managing for?
Wolves Shape the Forest
Wolves are apex predators, yes—but more importantly, they’re ecosystem engineers.
Their presence reshapes prey behavior, which reshapes plant life, which reshapes everything from songbird populations and beaver abundance to deer-vehicle collisions and streambank erosion. These ripple effects—often called trophic cascades—are what make wolves irreplaceable keystones in the systems they inhabit.
Wolves keep deer on the move, preventing overbrowsing of saplings and wildflowers.
They keep beavers in check, which can affect water flow and wetland dynamics.
They open up carcasses that feed countless scavengers, from eagles to insects.
And they structure landscapes just by being there.
Wolves Are Social Beings—Not Just Units in a Model
Each wolf pack is a family—not a loose group of dominant and submissive individuals, but a biological unit, typically composed of a breeding pair (not “alphas”) and their offspring.
Side note: The popular term “alpha” comes from outdated studies of unrelated captive wolves forced into artificial groupings. In the wild, especially in Minnesota where packs are smaller, what we often call the “alpha male and female” are simply the parents.
They’re not dominating subordinates—they’re raising their kids.
When we talk about “sustainable hunting” or “population resilience,” we often forget what’s being removed.
- What happens when one of those parents is killed?
- What happens to the pups?
- What happens when the structure breaks down, and young wolves disperse too early?
We know that disrupted packs can lead to more lone wolves, which in turn can increase conflicts with livestock.
We know that the death of a “breeder” can lead to pack collapse, failed litters, or unstable dispersal.
We know that social structure is crucial to survival.
And yet, we rarely account for any of this when we look at the population estimate.
The number may stay the same, but the wolves and the way they live are not the same.
The Cognitive Dissonance of Managing Wolves as Metrics
Here’s the dissonance at the heart of this issue:
We call wolves social, intelligent, keystone species, but then we manage them like interchangeable units in a spreadsheet.
We know they shape entire ecosystems, but we justify their removal as if they were passive inhabitants standing around like mannequins.
We know they form tight family groups, but we ignore the emotional and ecological cost of breaking those bonds.
We know they are misunderstood, but we still make policy from a place of fear, or tradition, or a desire to scapegoat for the sake of industry expansion and financial gain.
It’s hard to hold these things together. So we default to the number.
It’s easy. Clean. Comfortable.
What Happens When We Shift the Question?
What if we stopped asking, “How many wolves are there?”
…and instead asked:
- How are wolves functioning in their ecosystems?
- Are they playing the roles they evolved to play?
- Are they resilient, not just in number, but in structure, stability, and genetic diversity?
- Are we creating the conditions for coexistence and understanding or just containment and tolerance?
These don’t have to be abstract questions. These are real, practical, valid questions and concerns with tangible, interconnecting consequences.
Because if we manage wolves only by population size, we’ll always be one policy away from losing what actually matters: their ability to live, move, and function as wolves.
Where Do We Go From Here?
In likely the next post, we’ll explore how this headcount-only approach influences how we talk about conflict, and why the way we frame wolves as a problem is often a product of how we manage them.
We’ll look at:
- The rarity of livestock depredation
- What actually causes it
- How non-lethal methods work (and wonder why they aren’t used more often)
- And how a deeper understanding of wolf behavior and ecology leads to fewer conflicts, not more
Because wolves are more than a number.
And the more we remember that, the better chance we have to live alongside them.
Thanks for reading,
—Devon
