We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes. I realized then, and have known ever since, that there was something new to me in those eyes – something known only to her and to the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters’ paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view.

The road to conservation is paved with good intentions that often prove futile, or even dangerous, due to a lack of understanding of either land or economic land use.

A river or stream is a cycle of energy from sun to plants to insects to fish. It is a continuum broken only by humans.

Our tools are better than we are, and grow better faster than we do. They suffice to crack the atom, to command the tides, but they do not suffice for the oldest task in human history, to live on a piece of land without spoiling it.

I do not imply that this philosophy of land was always clear to me. It is rather the end result of a life journey.

Wildlife administration, in this respect, is not yet a profession.

We all strive for safety, prosperity, comfort, long life, and dullness.