It is hard to sleep while dreaming of wolves killing, tearing apart and eating your dog. This grim possibility and that dream kept me restless and sad for three nights after my great Inuit sled dog, Jasper, went missing from The Steger Wilderness Center last week. Will told me Jasper would head North. He was right.
Two months earlier I adopted Jasper from Ely Outward Bound. He was being retired at age ten after attaining lead dog status for the last six years. He has been all over Quetico, the Boundary Waters Canoe Area and Hudson Bay. On March 22, 2016 Jasper arrived back at Outward Bound’s Homeplace from his last winter sled dog expedition. The next day I picked him up and our relationship together began.
My daughter Gracie and her guy Ed are veteran mushers at Outward Bound who know Jasper well. When Gracie learned Jasper was being retired she told me he was a smart, sweet and funny Husky. She also told me I was spending far too much time alone. She was right and I knew it.
Jasper had never been off a leash or a lead in his entire life. He had never been in a car or climbed a set of stairs. Our learning curve was steep. I had no idea what to expect from him if I were to simply let him go to experience the freedom of self-determination for the first time in his life.
When we arrived at The Center, Will suggested we bring Jasper, on leash, to the various construction sites going on at the time, to give him a sense boundaries — where he would receive tons of affection and attention from the work crews. This routine we followed for two weeks.
Then one early Sunday morning while Will and I were drinking hot tea down in Hobo
Village (where I am Mayor), Will said, “Let’s let Jasper go and see what he does.” I agreed and set him free to go where no one else would decide his path for the first time in his entire life.
Freedom made Jasper euphoric. He wandered, ran and pranced while walking the residents back to their tents in the woods. In the morning he would go up to the apprentices’ tent camp to wake them up in time for breakfast. One afternoon he even crossed the immense bog below the cliff near the edge of the rim where Big Jake’s tent is pitched. Each night Jasper returned from his travels down to the lake and Hobo Village to find a place to sleep close by my tent. All was hunky dory like this for four days and nights.
The sky on the fourth night was as clear as I have ever seen. The Milky Way showed billions of stars. Awe was in the air. Jasper and I were sitting side by side on the newly built floating barge used to haul tons and tons mined stone from the quarry on the west end of Will’s lake over to the outskirts of Hobo Village, where it could be transported to the three masonry projects currently under way . We had been sitting together star gazing for about an hour when, far to the East end of Pickett Lake, a pack of wolves began howling their lonely, lonely chorus. Jasper perked up, cocked an ear towards the sound and listened. Next, on the other end of the lake a second pack cranked up their howling response. Jasper tilted his head so far backwards he could see behind himself and added his deep voice to the wolf packs’ choir. I was only a foot away from him. The sound was thrilling. I remember feeling blessed to simply exist on such a night and in such a spectacular Universe sitting with my great howling Husky.
The next morning Jasper was nowhere to be found.
Around noon two days later I called the Ely police to report my missing dog. The woman who answered told me someone had called to report a stray Husky somewhere up the Echo Trail. But the Echo Trail runs all the way up to Orr, so the information was of little use except to help raise my sagging hope I would ever see Jasper again. Meanwhile Will was calling WELY radio with daily reminders to get the word out and ask listeners to help find and return Jasper. I called the Ely Veterinary Clinic to advise them of the situation and posted an 8×10 photo of Jasper on their bulletin board that afternoon.
Now my own schedule became a problem. An important photo assignment and wedding in Minneapolis required me to leave the Center for several days. I was heartsick. At home, two days later, I received a phone call from the Ely Vet Clinic; they had Jasper, safe and sound.
Jasper had wandered twenty miles North, all the way up to Angleworm Lake, where he walked into the camp of a man and woman just as they had finished eating their evening meal. They spotted his dog tag, welcomed him to their camp, tied him to a tree, cooked him a meal and went to bed. The next morning they shared their bacon and eggs with him, broke camp, returned to their car, put Jasper in the back seat and delivered him the clinic. I was overjoyed at the news.
People are good.
Written by John Ratzloff
Photos by John Ratzloff and Leah Nordquist