When the Government Puts Wolves in Your Backyard
In October 1990, Richard Mann shot a red wolf that he feared was threatening his cattle. The wolf was a member of an “experimental population” the federal Fish and Wildlife Service had introduced to eastern North Carolina a few years earlier in an effort to save the most endangered canine on the planet. When the federal government introduces endangered species like wolves, it often seeks local buy-in by allowing activities that would otherwise be prohibited. In this case, it permitted private landowners to kill a red wolf if it was “in the act of killing livestock or pets, provided that freshly wounded or killed livestock or pets are evident.”
Fortunately for Mann, the red wolf on his property hadn’t yet attacked his livestock. Unfortunately for Mann, that meant he was prosecuted under the Endangered Species Act for preemptively killing the canine. He pled guilty, was fined $2,000, and was ordered to perform community service building “wolfhouses” and feeding red wolves.
Since the late 1980s, federal biologists have been trying to keep a tiny population of endangered red wolves alive in and around two wildlife refuges on the Albemarle-Pamlico Peninsula, just inland from a string of barrier beaches in northeastern North Carolina. They have spent a lot of time, energy, and resources—in the face of concentrated but consistent local opposition—with relatively little to show for it.
Over the decades, more than 100 red wolves raised in captivity have been released into the area, with dozens more pups placed in wild dens to be fostered. The population peaked at about 120 wolves in 2012, before falling rapidly due to human-caused fatalities of two types: gunshots and traffic collisions. The species has also been interbreeding with the increasingly prolific coyote, which could eventually cause “dilution, degradation and ultimate disappearance of the red wolf as a distinct taxonomic entity,” as a 2023 government-commissioned analysis put it. As of September 2024, the wild population of red wolves was fewer than 20.
The red wolf has now become a symbol of federal overreach in the area, and local opposition to it seems to have become as much about resisting the feeling of being trampled by the government as about the canine itself. The animal also provides a salient target for ire over more fundamental issues, as traditional ways of life in a rural area become less tenable.
After Mann’s prosecution, local opposition to the introduction grew. The Fish and Wildlife Service maintained that most of the public continued to support the endeavor, and it struck agreements with some landowners to allow red wolves onto their property. But the case increased tensions, particularly with locals concerned that a federally regulated carnivore brought to their doorstep would eventually trigger prohibitions on how they could use their land in an area heavy on farming and hunting.
Rather than rewarding people for helping recover rare wildlife, the Endangered Species Act imposes punitive regulations in the name of protecting listed species and their habitats. It can feel like a punch in the gut when a rare snake or woodpecker shows up on your property bringing government regulation in tow. Imagine the blow, then, when a rare species wasn’t simply found on your land by happenstance: Federal biologists brought it to your neighborhood without asking. Oh, and it’s a wolf—a carnivore that sits at the top of the food chain and, from your perspective, poses a threat not only to your chickens, pets, or cattle but to any toddlers wandering too far from the porch. It’s little wonder that the federal approach turns endangered species into liabilities to avoid rather than assets to help conserve.
In the years following Mann’s case, two of the five counties within the red wolf program area passed resolutions opposing the effort. Eventually, the state wildlife commission asked the federal government to terminate the program altogether. The introduction effort, and ill will over it, has ebbed and flowed ever since.
Admirable Aims Unrealized
“The passion of those who began this program to restore a species to the wild was admirable,” Jett Ferebee told The Fayetteville Observer in 2014. “But it has become an effort to destroy the rights of private landowners.” Ferebee is a real estate developer from nearby Greenville, North Carolina, who owns land in the red wolf recovery area. He has been described as one of the leading opponents of the introduction.
A year earlier, he had detailed various critiques in correspondence to a Fish and Wildlife Service employee, which he posted to an online forum. “I do not need to be told by [the Fish and Wildlife Service], any more, that red wolves are the next best thing since sliced bread. I have been told this for years by your program directors and biologists,” it read in part. “I am intimately familiar with your program and how it has morphed into something totally different than what was promised [to] the citizens of NC….I resent that my friends and family no longer want to go to our farm and spend time hunting and enjoying the outdoors. I resent that not only our deer population but also our rabbit population has been decimated. The turkeys are likely next.”
Ferebee added that he resented not taking some locals’ advice to “just ‘shoot ’em in the gut and let ’em walk off.’…I resent that my obeying the law…has left me defenseless to protect my property rights.”
The message board runs to nearly 200 pages produced over a decade. It includes protests that genetic records show the red wolf is a hybrid rather than a “true” species and that fossil records contain no evidence red wolves ever inhabited North Carolina. While it contains the hysterics and general tone of many online forums, it presents many reasonable objections that locals have expressed over the years: farmer concerns over wolves preying on livestock, hunter concerns over wolves preying on deer and small game, and landowner concerns over regulations restricting how they can manage their land where wolves roam and den.
The red wolf once roamed throughout much of the southern and eastern U.S., but the population was dramatically reduced by predator-control programs, many of which were boosted by bounties from federal and state governments. It became one of the original endangered species protected by Congress in 1967, under the precursor to the Endangered Species Act. By the 1970s, only a small remnant population straddling the border of Texas and Louisiana persisted in the wild. The Fish and Wildlife Service began trapping the canines to start a captive breeding program with zoos to keep the species alive.
By the late 1980s, the Fish and Wildlife Service identified potential areas to introduce the captive wolves in an effort to reestablish the species. It believed the wolf woul
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