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The spinoff essay: following the swiss wolf, who walked 2,000 kilometres for love.
When we insert ourselves into the lives of animals, we become complicit in their fates.
The Spinoff Essay showcases the best essayists in Aotearoa, on topics big and small. Made possible by the generous support of our members.
B efore I went to Hungary, I met a man who told me about the wolf.
“It migrated all the way from Switzerland to Hungary,” he said. “And last week it was shot by a hunter. People want him to go to prison.”
As I prepared for the trip I learnt more about M237, the wolf who’d travelled a record-breaking 2,000 km before being felled by a bullet near the small town of Hidasnémeti. But my real focus was on another mammal: my diabetic cat, Jager. At 17, her life was constrained to an armchair with a heating pad she reached with the assistance of pet steps. As my departure loomed, so did Jager’s. I rang a vet who offered a home euthanasia service and sought her advice.
“When it’s time for her to go, you’ll know,” she said.
But I didn’t know. I didn’t know if Jager would make it through the next four weeks without me. Our younger cat, Bruce, would be fine at home. I wrote instructions for his pet sitter and stockpiled his favourite treats. And then I took Jager to the best cattery in Dunedin, boarded a plane, and crossed my fingers.
Jager and M237 both began their lives wild, but while Jager assumed the role of house cat, M237 became an explorer. One of six cubs, he was born in 2021 as tulips bloomed and boats cruised the Swiss Riviera. At around two weeks of age, his blue eyes opened and he gave his first high-pitched howl. Soon afterwards, he ventured from his den on stubby legs, round-eyed and fluffy as a Pomeranian.
By March the following year, his legs were long, his eyes pale gold – and he was about to have his first encounter with humans. While skiers slid down the Swiss Alps, M237 was trapped and sedated by members of a Swiss wolf protection group. His blood was drawn, his teeth examined, and his body measured. And then he was fitted with the yellow GPS collar that helped make him a star.
No wolves wander New Zealand: our native mammals are bats, seals, sea lions, dolphins and whales. We no longer have wolves in our zoos, but they still filled my suburban Christchurch childhood. They were there in the stories of Peter and the Wolf, The Boy Who Cried Wolf, and Little Red Riding Hood. They roamed my imagination as metaphors for fear. Fear of being harmed. Fear of losing what’s precious.
Leaving New Zealand, my fears were personal, cat-sized. Arriving in Hungary in June 2023, my fears grew. Russian forces had taken control of the adjacent Ukraine’s Zaporizhzhia power plant and 8.2 million Ukrainians had fled their country. I didn’t want to be on the continent if fighting escalated. But Europe’s a big place, I told myself. And if the worst happened, my husband Tim and I could flee to the safety of our island at the bottom of the South Pacific.
My worries vaporised when we arrived in stinking hot, beautiful Budapest. We visited galleries, saw a ballet, and sampled raspberry ganache beneath gilded frescoes.
We caught a train south to the city of Pécs, far from the Ukrainian border, where I was being hosted for a writing residency. Coloured tiles sparkled on rooftops, live music tinkled down laneways, and pigeons cooed outside our windows as we tossed and turned beneath our individual duvets, struggling to adjust to the heat. But my social media feeds were filled with images of snow. I sent an email to Jager’s cattery.
“Is her heating pad on?” I asked. “Did you get a chance to move her into the room with the sun?”
Reassured she’d settled in and was receiving her medication, I turned my attention back to M237. I started to wonder if I should visit northern Hungary after all; if I should visit Hidasnémeti. And I wasn’t the only person who wanted to acknowledge M237: there were 53,099 signatures on a petition calling for the hunter to be punished.
“Let us not be a country without consequences,” it read. “ A man who knowingly kills a great animal should not get away with impunity. Feel the weight of what you do.”
I met Károly Méhes, the coordinator of the residency programme. We sipped coffee on an ancient street in 35-degree heat, and I told him about my plans to go north. Then he surprised me by telling me Pécs has its own history with wolves.
“Like in the fairy tale, a wolf tore apart a grandmother and a grandchild,” he said.
The attack happened in December 1995, just after Christmas, while children were sledding on the Mecsek Mountains by the Pécs Zoo. At that time, the zoo was poorly run and prone to scandal. There was a period when a lion drowned, a tiger disappeared from the inventory, and the zoo’s director let hunters shoot a bear. In these chaotic conditions, it’s suspected the wolf was accidentally released. A passing driver saw a boy bleeding as he fled through the snow, and drove him to the TV tower to get help. The grandmother died on her way to hospital. The wolf was shot.
I decided to follow in the footsteps of the wolf, the grandmother and the boy, hiking up to the zoo and the tower. Noting that without his navigational services I’d still be lost in Singapore Airport, Tim came along too.
The Hungarian forest was different to the bush back home. The trees were thinner and further apart, and didn’t have the damp, fresh scent I’m used to. Sunlight streamed through the canopy, and we passed a cottage in a clearing bordered by a low stone fence. These were the woods I’d read about in fairy tales.
“If one of us – perhaps you – could get bitten by a wolf, it would be great for my story,” I said, as we trudged through the trees. Something rustled in the undergrowth and Tim sprang back.
We reached the top of a track and found ourselves at the zoo. From the outside, we could see zebras, bison, and hordes of small children – but no wolves. There are no longer wolves at Pécs Zoo. They were shipped off after the second wolf escaped.
By 2015, Pécs Zoo had a new director. Three wolves were acquired from Italy, but spooked by the move, one of them jumped the fence. People were advised to avoid the forest – but instead, they flocked to it.
“I think we all knew the nature of the animal, that it does not attack people, in fact it avoids it,” one wolf-watcher wrote. “He looked kindly at us and we looked at him.”
This wolf may have been harmless to humans, but he too was shot – by the zoo’s new director.
Today the zoo has yet another director, and the fencing still looks a little flimsy. We hiked past and dipped back into the woods as we continued to the tower. We spotted black and yellow moths, emerald green beetles and orange-stemmed mushrooms with puffy white hats. We didn’t see the badgers, foxes or dormice we knew lived in the forest. And with no wolves in Pécs, our biggest fear was getting lost. But when we returned to our apartment, there was a message from one of my brothers.
“It could be worth keeping an eye on the Zaporizhzhia power plant the Russians are said to have mined,” it read. “I’d advise you to have some sort of contingency plan and to act upon it promptly if something blows up.”
We’d already planned our trip to Hidasnémeti. I wanted to visit the river where M237 was shot. Making the most of travelling to the Zemplén region, Tim eschewed Hidasnémeti’s sole accommodation option – the former Border Guard Barracks – and booked us into the Palace Hotel in Lillafüred, a nearby resort town.
I spent the night before we left measuring Lillafüred’s distance from the fighting in Ukraine. We’d be staying an hour’s drive from the border – close enough to have me searching for tips on surviving a nuclear blast. What I read wasn’t reassuring. In the event of a power plant explosion, an invisible radioactive cloud could drift anywhere on the continent.
Like radioactive clouds, wolves aren’t concerned with the demarcation of human territory. The previous summer, M237 left his family and the canton of Graubünden in search of a mate. He reached an altitude of 3,500m as he travelled the Alps, his collar pinging his location to the enthusiasts tracking his path.
He crossed the Italian border, wandering beneath limestone summits before entering Austria. In February 2023, he slipped into Hungary. He passed just west of Budapest, and swam across the Danube before continuing towards the Zemplén Mountains.
The Swiss wolf protection group posted a Facebook update, tagging themselves as “feeling awesome”. Having M237 join Hungary’s small wolf population was a rare environmental success story. And there was something else about his journey that touched our hearts. Don’t we all feel we’ve been on epic quests in search of love?
M 237 was right to head to Zemplén for romance. Nestled in lush forest, the Palace Hotel felt enchanted. Swallows circled the spires, poetry was inscribed on stone tablets, and hanging gardens followed the path of a waterfall. In the Romanesque castle at the meeting of three valleys, I felt more relaxed than I’d been in years.
Not far from Lillafüred was the zoo where the Pécs wolves now lived. But though I longed to set eyes on a wolf, I didn’t want to visit a zoo – my entry fee endorsing the keeping of animals in captivity. Putting myself in a wolf’s paws, I would rather roam free. Instead, I visited the zoo’s website, my fingers hovering over the button that would enable me to “adopt” a wolf for a fee. But when we insert ourselves into the lives of animals, we become complicit in their fates. I shut the window.
The next morning, we caught a tram through the city of Miskolc and a train to Hidasnémeti’s small, Soviet-era station. From there we headed to the river, where I imagined M237 padding through the undergrowth to drink the cool water.
We passed a headstone maker’s workshop and saw bright cottage gardens alive with cats. Having learnt that wolves avoid people, I didn’t think I’d feel nervous for my safety if there was a wolf in my neighbourhood. But I would feel nervous for my pets.
Along with tracking M237, I’d been tracking Dávid Sütő, Large Carnivore Programme Leader at the World Wildlife Foundation. I wanted to ask him about wolves – in particular, M237, who Dávid called “the Swiss wolf”.
“I mainly deal with human-wildlife conflicts,” Dávid said, when we connected over Zoom. “Surrounding large carnivores there can be challenges, because they were missing from almost the whole continent for at least 50 years. We have to relearn how to live with them.”
Humans almost drove large predators to extinction a century ago, but the presence of wolves helps balance the ecosystem.
“We call them the guards of the forest. You need apex predators to keep invasive species like racoons at bay.”
Because wolves tend to prey on sick animals, they can also reduce the spread of disease. But not everyone’s happy that the wolves are returning to the forests.
“Knowing that wolves are present can cause fear in people, but wolves are not as dangerous as we think. In Northern Hungary, you’re much more likely to get hurt driving a car than you are to be mauled by a wolf.”
“What about the Pécs attack?” I asked.
“That was the only wolf attack in the country in the last hundred years, and it wasn’t a wild wolf,” Dávid said. “The wild specimens that have lived in nature have not attacked anyone, and it is crucial to try to keep it this way.”
Before we ended the call, I asked Dávid what had drawn him to his role.
“I’ve always dealt with mammals,” he said. “Because we are mammals too, we have some kind of kinship with them. It’s easier to get in their understanding.”
O n our last morning in The Palace Hotel, I woke with the sun. I stretched lazily on white sheets, wondering how on earth I’d got so lucky. And then I checked my phone. There was an email from the cattery.
“I have some sad news,” the message read. “Your lovely Jager passed away.”
My fears of radioactive clouds suddenly seemed ludicrous. The worst had happened, and it was the lonely death of someone who’d trusted me. I regretted not organising that visit from the vet. I regretted going on the trip at all.
We began our comically awful trip back to Pécs. As we were pelted with rain, thrown off a tram, issued with a fine, and confined to a stifling train carriage with drunken revellers, I thought about what we owe to animals. What I owed Jager, and what we all owed M237.
Like cats, wolves can get diabetes, but a sick animal won’t last long in the wild. Jager had been on insulin for the final two years of her life. Bruce, who I found on the side of the road as a kitten, had already had several hair-raising trips to the vet.
Cats aren’t considered domesticated: they have a symbiotic relationship with us. When I’d invited the cats into my home, I’d made a contract with them. I’d give them food, shelter, medical care and love, and I’d also have to make decisions on their behalf – decisions they wouldn’t always understand, or enjoy. But my cats could also choose to leave at any time.
What kind of contract had we made with the animals of Pécs Zoo? Could they have reasonably expected a standard of care they didn’t get? And what did we owe M237? Not medicine, or a heating pad, or a lap to die on. But not a bullet.
“When The Swiss Wolf was shot, there was an outrage,” Dávid had said. “In Hungary, the carnivores are strictly protected. And where he was shot, we have had wolves since the 1990s. So, the hunter could have expected that they were aiming at a wolf.”
And of course, the wolf was wearing a big, yellow GPS collar. But Dávid said it can be hard to investigate these types of cases.
“In a forest there are no witnesses. It’s ‘shoot, shovel, and shut up.’”
Europe has a long cultural history of humans and other apex predators sharing a landscape, but the survival of wolves in Hungary now depends on our ability to let the animals be. Wolves face enough danger without us: injury, starvation, and the possibility of being killed by a car, train, or group of rival wolves. M237 was willing to risk it all to find a mate.
“If the Swiss wolf had met a pack with a young female, they might have formed their own pack,” Dávid said.
When he was shot, M237 was 5km from a national park and the wolves of Zemplén. Had he picked up the scent of a potential mate? And had she picked up his?
D eath followed us back to Pécs. Catching up on New Zealand news, I saw that a critically endangered matuku-hūrepo had to be euthanised after being illegally shot. And in Europe, Ukrainian writer Victoria Amelina had died after being wounded in a Russian missile attack, just as she prepared to begin a residency in Paris.
And I was increasingly worried about Bruce. I contacted our pet sitter, trying not to sound hysterical.
“Is Bruce doing OK?”
“He seems to be all good and is eating,” came the reply.
But two mornings later when I woke and checked my phone, the pet sitter had left several missed calls. I called back and over a bad line heard “euthanasia”. Tim and I scrambled to add credit to our phones. We rang the vet and learnt Bruce had been badly bitten. The wound was infected, his flesh was necrotic, and he had sepsis. If he made it through the night, he’d face an operation he might not survive.
I felt sick. Being home wouldn’t have prevented the bite – but because I know Bruce, because I’m in his understanding, I would have realised something was wrong sooner. We were almost due to return home, and bringing our flights forward would cost $5,000. All I could do for Bruce was send positive thoughts from the other side of the world, hoping I was tuning into the right wavelength.
At around 1am, we got an email.
“We went ahead with tissue debridement this morning – cutting away the necrotic pieces of skin, of which there was a lot. There was a significant amount of dead tissue on both sides where he was bitten – most likely by a dog.”
You’re much more likely to be injured by a dog than a wolf, even in Northern Hungary. And in Dunedin, there’s a dog in our neighbourhood that often roams wild. I wanted its owners to see Bruce. Feel his pain.
At last, we returned to Dunedin to face a reckoning of our own. We collected Jager’s body and dug her grave. We picked Bruce up from the vet, knowing he’d be forever changed. And I felt the weight of what I’d done.
Cooling off in a community pool is a joy of summer, and learning how to swim makes it better yet. Credit: Newsday/Steve Pfost
My husband, Howard, and I arrived on Long Island from the Bensonhurst section of Brooklyn in 1995. I came from a modest family of summer staycationers, particularly my mom. She was our role model who would take my brother and me to the local pool on a day admission, visit the library or travel with us to the city, possibly the Bronx Zoo, all worthy examples for our eventual “What I did on my summer vacation” school essays.
Consequently, being unable to afford elaborate trips or sleepaway camp, I approached my new life as a Nassau County resident and young parent by tapping into all the East Meadow community had to offer. I wasn’t alone. A brigade of other parents was doing exactly what I was too, resulting in what our family called “Mom’s Summer Camp.”
Like many school districts, summer programs filled July mornings for a nominal fee that bought three subjects to explore weekdays when the program was in session. They’d include a choice of art, music, dance and language -- even cooking.
By the end of third grade, my daughter wanted to play clarinet because it was like the recorder she learned in second grade, and my son also wanted to play clarinet because it enabled him to be seen clearly in school concerts. So, they "graduated" to another option for students 8 to 18 -- the East Meadow Summer Music Program. I would shuttle our kids to arrive at 8:30 a.m., go home to work for a few hours, then return for their dismissal – like the other parents. The savvy among us drove there early to get the better parking spots and waited.
Afternoons were spent at Veterans Memorial Park, where parents had signed up kids for free swimming lessons, arts and crafts sessions, or kick-line and cheerleading practices that culminated in a late summer, friendly competition among Hempstead Town parks at Nassau Community College.
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The introductory “guppies” and other swim classes taught the kids not just how to swim but how to pass Red Cross requirements to get official cards -- and celebratory snacks. Some kids competed in swim and dive team meets, but it was my now-adult son who reminisced about those days that gave him “a life skill” he feels no one should go without.
“Mom’s Summer Camp,” of course, must include special events and activities. Occasionally, the kids could choose a snack at the local deli after swimming even if it might spoil their dinner. The summer library program had raffles, bingo, video games and craft programs to round out the evenings.
We’d even take our kids to mini golf at Eisenhower Park, Jets Fest when the football team practiced at Hofstra University, or stroll to the local nursery to visit the koi pond. At times, neighborhood kids would run through lawn sprinklers, ride bikes and play soccer.
The fireflies, sidewalk chalk, occasional sunburn and back-to-school sales -- all in all, it might not have been a true summer camp with a sophisticated color war, care packages and talent shows, but it was a summer camp created our way.
Reader Lauren B. Lev lives in East Meadow.
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A Eurasian eagle owl at the Minnesota Zoo escaped its handler, only to land in a tiger enclosure, where it was killed, according to a government report and the zoo.
The owl escaped during a flight training session for a bird show on April 29 at the zoo, in Apple Valley, a suburb of the Twin Cities. The owl didn’t return to its handler, and it landed in an outdoor enclosure where it was killed by a tiger, according to a U.S. Agriculture Department inspection report dated July 1.
Zoo spokesperson Zach Nugent told NBC News on Wednesday: “The bird flew into the Zoo’s Tiger Lair habitat. Before staff could intervene, the tiger within that habitat preyed upon the owl.”
The inspection report said the handling of animals during training sessions “should be done in a manner that does not cause trauma or physical harm to the animals.”
The zoo had to “develop and maintain a training program for free flight training that ensure all animals are handled as to prevent trauma or physical harm” by July 5.
Nugent said the zoo complied with the report’s suggestion.
“Animal welfare is a top priority in all facets of Zoo operations,” he said. “This was a tragic incident and the Zoo has been working closely with its free-flight bird training partners to review our policies and procedures.”
The July report further found issues with the zoo’s contingency plan for caring for animals sheltering in place during emergencies or disasters, as well as issues with a camel holding enclosure that was “not in good repair.” It also found the pest control program “to be ineffective in the garage bay where the supply of bagged feed and other foodstuffs used to feed animals at the facility are stored.” Similarly, the zoo was given July deadlines to resolve the matters.
Nugent said the zoo has "many years of experience training free-flight birds."
"We recognize that every animal is an individual and as such, we build programs around their individualized flight skill, experience, and general adaptability for being included in a free-flight program," he said. "This specific owl was at the beginning stages of its training and acclimating to its new environment."
Marlene Lenthang is a breaking news reporter for NBC News Digital.
Brittany shared highlights of the fun outing on her Instagram Stories on Aug. 10 as her husband Patrick Mahomes prepared for the Chiefs' first preseason game
Brittany Mahomes/Instagram
Brittany Mahomes is a multitasking mama!
The Kansas City Current co-owner and former soccer player, 28, shared highlights of a trip she took to a petting zoo with her two kids, Sterling Skye and Patrick "Bronze" Lavon , on her Instagram Stories on Saturday, Aug. 10.
Her husband, Kansas City Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes — who plays his first preseason game on Saturday against the Jacksonville Jaguars — didn't join his family for the outing.
In an impressive video clip from the trip, which she shared on her Instagram Stories, Brittany fed three goats at once while holding Bronze, 19 months.
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"Baby in my belly, baby on my hip and still can feed three goats at a time," she wrote over the footage. She appeared to be laughing in the silent video as Bronze watched her feed the animals.
In another clip, Brittany wrote that her son was "not a fan" of the goats.
The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model also shared photos of Sterling, 3, posing in a butterfly cutout and both kids posing inside of cutouts of flowers that were also decorated with farm animals.
Although Patrick, 28, is getting ready for the upcoming NFL season, he spent lots of time with his family in the off-season during a trip to Europe .
Brittany also took the kids to see their dad at training camp at Missouri Western State University in St. Joseph, Mo., in July. After they hung out with their dad, Sterling and Bronze played football and enjoyed snow cones.
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High school sweethearts Brittany and Patrick announced they are expecting their third in mid-July, and soon after shared that they have a baby girl on the way.
Brittany recently told her followers that her third pregnancy has been the most difficult . "This pregnancy has been the hardest on me... sickness, exhaustion and now skin!" she wrote over a selfie on her Instagram Stories on July 23.
WEATHER ALERT
Baby gorilla is born at detroit zoo, the first in its 96-year history.
Associated Press
This photo made available by the Detroit Zoo, shows an unnamed baby gorilla is the first to be born at the Detroit Zoo, arriving Thursday, August 8, 2024 and joining a troop of four including mother Bandia and father Mshindi. (Detroit Zoo via AP)
ROYAL OAK, Mich. – It's a baby — gorilla.
The Detroit Zoo in suburban Detroit said the birth Thursday was the first in its 96-year history.
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“Bandia had a very smooth pregnancy, which is so important for a first-time mom,” said Tami Brightrall, the zoo's associate curator of mammals.
The baby gorilla doesn't have a name yet, and the sex has not been determined. The newcomer now four other gorillas at the zoo, including Bandia and father Mshindi, all of which arrived a year ago.
Staff worked for months to prepare the troop, even carrying a stuffed gorilla around the habitat to demonstrate how to carry the baby, Brightrall said.
“Our teams also taught the gorillas how to gently touch the stuffed animal, pick it up off the ground and bring it to a member of the team over at the mesh barrier,” she said.
The public won't immediately see the gorillas.
“The area will reopen once the animal care team determines mom and baby have had enough time to bond and become comfortable in their habitat,” said Melissa Thueme, a mammal supervisor.
Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.
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A Visit to a Zoo Essay in English: A zoo is a place where animals and birds are put on display for people to view. In this article, you are going to learn how to write an essay or a paragraph on a visit to a zoo in English. Here we've provided 5 short and long essays ( 100, 150, 200, 250, and 500 words).
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Join us as we embark on a journey to explore the top 10 zoos to visit in the US, where conservation, education, and the thrill of encountering fascinating creatures come together.
The Spinoff Essay: Following the Swiss wolf, who walked 2,000 kilometres for love. Kathryn van Beek. ... But though I longed to set eyes on a wolf, I didn't want to visit a zoo - my entry fee ...
She was our role model who would take my brother and me to the local pool on a day admission, visit the library or travel with us to the city, possibly the Bronx Zoo, all worthy examples for our ...
A Eurasian eagle owl at the Minnesota Zoo escaped its handler, only to land in a tiger enclosure, where it was killed, according to a government report and the zoo.
Pregnant Brittany Mahomes shared highlights from a trip to the petting zoo with her kids, Sterling and Bronze, on Aug. 10 ahead of her husband Patrick Mahomes' first preseason game with the Kansas ...
A zoo in Syracuse, New York, has welcomed two baby patas monkeys born weeks apart.
The Detroit Zoo says the birth of a gorilla at the zoo in suburban Detroit is the first in its 96-year history.