The elderly man sat quietly in his chair with a stack of Alaska magazines beside him. We walked in unnoticed at first. When he finally realized we were there, he looked up and upon seeing his nephew, he flashed a big smile. Slowly, as if willing his tall frame to stand erect, he pushed himself upward. Soon, he was almost to full height, the height of a giant of a man. His curly gray unkempt hair that at one time looked like a big black Brillo pad, rested atop a weathered, wrinkled face accentuating his black eyes and the distinguishable Spanish features of his mother.
the old Wolf Trapper
Before us stood a man larger than life. Though he had no children of his own, the kids gravitated to him. He was gentle in his speech and in the way he cared for the little ones with fierce loyalty. His protection of the kids, his family, and his neighbors, and their livelihood, was just as fierce.
Barney with a bunch of kids
Visiting Uncle Barney was one of the first things on our list and one of the highlights. Walking into his house was like walking into a museum. Glass cases were filled with relics of his younger days. My nose prints and fingerprints joined those of others who had peered into the see-through treasure chest. Antlers, guns, and pelts of mule deer and the infamous gray timber wolf Snowslide hung on his wall. Each item had a story – and what a story!
Only one word was needed to be rewarded with a fascinating, almost unbelievable, tale. Daddy knew that word, “Wolf!” He spoke louder, “Wolf!” The flood gates of adventure and intrigue opened and stories of wolf days were unleashed. Though the old Government Trapper had dull ears and clouded eyes, his memory was sharp. The shroud lifted from his eyes, and they began to sparkle. He didn’t miss any details as he began to talk. Uncle Barney’s words mounted us on the back of his saddle as we joined him in the chase. Now he was the hunter again, retracing the trails of memories to capture the elusive predators. We were entranced, a mesmerized audience drawn into the pursuit.
Barney with part of Old Cripple Creek’s pack, her mate to the left in the photo
Tale after tale followed as he told of Snowslide, the gray timber wolf that killed sixteen head of sheep in one night at one ranch, slaughtering forty-three at another ranch the next week, thirteen at another, then turned to killing calves; Old Cripple Foot, queen of the Little Belts that killed sheep for sport and then began taking down cows – three large Herefords in one week (that she didn’t eat) on the American Fork Ranch, aka “The Ghost”; and her mate and pups; Killer – the wolf that killed for pleasure, killing at least fifteen dogs in two years that were brought in to rid the ranchers of the wolf; Old Crazy Mountain Wallis, aka Loofer Wolf that easily split a dog pack, and along with another wolf killed 60 head cattle on the American Fork Ranch valued at $30,000; Lefty, of Ft. McGinnis, so named because she was missing her front left foot from a trap, and when she was taken, an old granddad wolf adopted her pups.
Some raise their eyebrows thinking it a great injustice. Uncle Barney said, “From my experience wolves didn’t kill sheep unless they were hungry or wanted revenge.” What could a wolf do with sixteen sheep in one night? That was not for food, it was for pure sport and revenge. In 1915, Barney was hired by the Bureau of Biological Survey as a Predatory Animal Trapper. His job was to end the predation plague that spread throughout the ranches in Montana. He was to rid them of stock killing bears, bobcats, coyotes, and wolves. Government Hunter Brannin was hailed as a hero and the stockmen rejoiced as the wolves were removed from their herds. Some of the captured wolf pups were sent to the State Fair, or to a wolf sanctuary in the East.
Brother Gus, Peaches the Bear and Barney, 1916, Crazy Mountains
Many of Uncle Barney’s exploits are contained in various newspaper articles, government documents, family stories, and various books. There are other tales of goats in the Crazies, taming bears, helping raise kids, stocking creeks and lakes with upwards of 850,000 live trout and eye eggs in the Crazy Mountains, and then… there’s Alaska…
If you cry wolf, you might just get a wild tale…
Barney and his little sister, Babe
Barney