Down the road, a number of cars had pulled onto the shoulder by a broad meadow. Assuming there was something worth seeing (always a good assumption in Yellowstone), I joined the small crowd lined up along the gravel roadside. A hundred yards away, oblivious to the attention he was drawing, a wolf pup was playing in the meadow.
Even in Yellowstone, encountering a wolf was amazing luck. Years of hunting and human encroachment had at one time all but eliminated wolves from the continental US. But in 1995, despite protests from local ranchers, a Park Service program had reintroduced several families of wolves into Yellowstone.
This little guy was maybe a third of the size of a full-grown wolf, and was as cute as any mammal at that age. He was all alone as far as we could see, and seriously playing. He would crouch down low to the ground, almost hidden in the tall grasses, sneak forward a few feet, then leap suddenly at his imaginary prey. He performed this ritual over and over.
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