The Truth About Wolfdogs—And the Alberta Sanctuary That’s Changing Their Story
The wolfdogs howl in the cool afternoon air. Their voices rise in unison, echoing across the sloping fields. The haunting melody ebbs and flows like a wave over the Albertan prairies, drowning out the words our guide Mike Gaarde tries to tell our group. Thirteen of us sit quietly, fighting smiles and fidgeting with our cameras, listening as the half-wolf, half-dogs around us throw their heads back and dramatically whine, “Awoooooooo!”
At Yamnuska Wolfdog Sanctuary, 70 wolfdogs live in spacious enclosures (each spanning multiple acres) surrounded by eight-foot-high fences with overhangs.
After rescuing feral dogs in her youth, Yamnuska founder and canine lover Georgina De Caigny bought a wolfdog puppy when she was 19 years old without fully realizing the different needs of wolfdogs. She pivoted from studying engineering to opening Canada’s first (and only) wolfdog rescue in June 2011. In the book Wolves Don’t Bark: The Origins of Yamnuska Wolfdog Sanctuary, Kenneth Tam writes of De Caigny, “being a human ambassador for wolfdogs was not a job she’d ever envisioned for herself; it was a responsibility she undertook for the sake of her pack.”
As a non-profit, Yamnuska’s goal is to “rescue the animals in need, because a wolfdog is not a dog. A wolfdog is also not a wolf,” Gaarde says. “They’re in this weird grey area in between, where they cannot survive in the wild because they don’t have the wild instincts, but they also do not communicate and have the same needs and care that a domestic dog does. Unfortunately, a lot of people don’t understand that, which is why rescues like this exist.”
Guests can get up close and personal with resident wolfdogs who enjoy being visited on an Interactive Tour for $99 per person, ages 15 and up. In the 60-minute guided experience, which includes access to the Sanctuary Walk, we meet eight wolfdogs and learn about these unique animals.
The first rule is to stay seated—not necessarily for our safety, but to keep the dogs calm and avoid spooking them. “This is their sanctuary. This is their home,” Gaarde says. “We want to make sure that they are happy in their home.”
In the first enclosure, we meet siblings Sage, Yarrow, Ash and Willow. These husky-looking fluffy brothers and sisters are in their “terrible twos,” Gaarde tells us. “Wolfdogs are sneaky little thieves,” he says to a chorus of laughs. “Anything that’s loose that they may be able to interact with, they are going to try to do so. I brought in enough enrichment items,” he says, asking us to keep all gloves and sunglasses on us or in our pockets so we don’t accidentally contribute to the wolfdog’s toys.
Walking into the enclosure, I sit on the far side of a covered wooden bench, admiring the wolfdogs. These are what’s known as “low-content”: they are less than 50 percent wolf. These pups are about 30 percent, with the main dog breed mixes being husky, malamute and German Shepherd.
As we snap photos, one wolfdog creeps close to my photographer and partner, Tavis. Yarrow looks up at Tavis, his deep cinnamon brown eyes curiously trusting, his nose twitching as he sniffs. To our collective surprise, Yarrow lies down at Tavis’s feet and turns his head up expectantly. Gaarde laughs and acquiesces, “you can reach down and give him a quick little scritch-scratch.” Tavis complies, reverently giving the wolfdog a belly rub.
We’re all given three treats to hand out to the wolfdogs. We’re instructed to place the treat on an open palm and wait for the wolfdogs to approach. On my left, two soulful eyes peer up at me cautiously—one light blue, one dark brown. Beneath the eyes are 42 sharp teeth. The wolfdog gently licks the treats from my hand. Before long, all our treats are mopped up by lolling pink tongues.
In the second enclosure, we watch one high-content wolfdog, Nova, and three mid-contents: Rue, Gnocchi and Penne. These wolfdogs seem to be much more hesitant —as Gaarde discusses their higher percentage, they eye us from a safe distance away. Unlike their more-dog counterparts, none of the higher-content wolfdogs attempt to approach us to sniff or receive treats. Instead, we toss the treats out in front of us, watching as they expertly snatch the flying food from mid-air.
The wolfdogs are more wary, skittish and timid than I’d expected. In Wolves Don’t Bark, Tam writes, “fearful humans [can] lash out just as easily as fearful dogs—they simply [have] different channels through which to direct their aggression.” I think it’s a good sign that these wolfdogs choose to hang out close to us while having the option to roam the gigantic enclosure or hide behind trees if they don’t feel like socializing.
As someone who abhors zoos and has publicly spoken out against animal tourism and animals being used primarily for entertainment, rather than education, I feel relieved to see the wolfdogs in enriching enclosures, full of trembling aspens, ample platforms, structures and water sources, to keep them safe and foster the best possible life in their unique and misunderstood reality.
With frigid fingers and painful cheeks from smiling (and the -20 C air), Tavis and I leave Yamnuska Sanctuary with a strong sense that these wolfdogs are very well taken care of here. As permanent residents, carefully and responsibly chosen because of their needs, they are not up for adoption and will live out the rest of their lives in Yamnuska’s expert care, with experienced staff, proper nutrition and veterinary care to create a fulfilling, safe home.
I love wolves—they’re my favourite animal. I’ve always wanted a dog that looks a bit like a wolf. But now, I understand that wolfdogs cannot thrive in human homes or be fully domesticated.
So I’m not surprised I enjoyed this experience. Despite being freezing cold, I walked away with warmth in my chest that this place exists. As Kenneth Tam writes, “Dogs have spent millennia learning to live with us; wolves have spent the same amount of time learning to avoid us. Hopefully, wolfdogs will need much less time to find a life that lies in between.”
