Wolves fight the odds in Wisconsin.

Adrian Wydeven spreads his feet, tips his head back, and howls long and low into the summer night. His mimicry is perfect - plaintive, mournful, stirring. As the last notes fade into the Wisconsin woods, he waits, listening for a reply from the wolves he knows are near. As a timber wolf biologist for Wisconsin's Department of Natural Resources (DNR), Wydeven and his colleagues trap, radio collar and monitor wolves in remote areas of northwestern Wisconsin. During the day, they check traps and track animals by telemetry; at night, they howl.

As recently as 1960, the timber wolf was, by all accounts, gone from Wisconsin - the victim of shrinking habitat and relentless shooting and trapping. By 1975, however, the state had "listed" it as an endangered species, and a slow recovery began. With help from educational programs (both by the DNR and private groups like the Timber Wolf Alliance), stiff fines for killing the animal, and an influx of wolves from neighboring Minnesota, a breeding population had established itself by the 1970s. The program has avoided much of the controversy - and legal challenges - that delayed the reintroduction of wolves to Yellowstone National Park until this year.

Wisconsin now has 50 to 57 animals in 14 packs, the highest count since recovery began. "Those numbers were arrived at from 1993's winter counts and don't take into account any pup production from last summer," Wydeven says. At least eight of the state's packs had litters in 1994. Should these young animals survive, Wisconsin will come even closer to its goal of "at least 80 animals," according to Wydeven.

But the population has fluctuated in recent years. One good summer of pups can be erased by subsequent diseases or a catastrophe. In the 1980s, wolves battled canine parvovirus; in the 1990s, mange has taken its tell. And some Wisconsin residents just won't share the northwoods with wolves, as recent shootings indicate. In May of 1991, for example, the Alpha female from Moose Lake Pack was killed, preventing the pack from producing pups for at least a year. These diseases and shootings add up to a staggering hurdle to wolf recovery.

But Wydeven is optimistic. As he drives a remote logging road, stopping at likely places to howl for the Truck Trail Pack, he speaks earnestly about their firm foothold in the state. And though no howls answer his mock chorus, the wolves respond in another way. Rounding the bend, he sees two distinct, fresh sets of tracks in the sand, heading toward the vehicle. The tracks loop into the woods for 100 yards, then reappear on the road behind him. "Guess the truck spooked them," Wydeven shrugs and smiles. He had, indeed, come within seconds of seeing the wolves. But the pair wasn't frightened too-badly - they were, after all, only hearing the voice of a friend.

CONTACT: Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, P.O. Box 220, Park Falls, WI 54552/[phone].