Nearly a decade ago, the wolf known as OR-7 first set foot in California – the first wild gray wolf in the Golden State in 87 years. Few knew then that this young traveler who trekked 700 miles from northeastern Oregon would go on to change the fate of his entire species here in California.
Dubbed OR-7 because he was the seventh wolf to be radio-collared by biologists in Oregon, the wolf would become like a celebrity in California and beyond. By the time state biologists announced in April that he had likely died of natural causes, OR-7 had become an unwitting ambassador for his species.
Through his life and life story, the public learned that wolf packs are families. We learned that wolves travel long distances in search of love. We learned that all the old animosities that nearly eradicated wolves in the first place still exist and still carry political power.
And most importantly, OR-7 showed us that the only way to ensure wolves can return to lands they once called home is through the existence of strong federal and state laws to protect them.
People generally aren’t agnostic about wolves – they tend to either love them or hate them. OR-7 was no exception.
If you appreciated wolves and were a writer or a filmmaker, he was a perfect subject. At least two documentary films were made about him along with books, classroom lessons, social media posts and countless media articles. A well-known newspaper cartoonist even depicted OR-7 as a presidential candidate.
Each year, I would check in with Oregon’s wolf biologists to see if they had evidence of OR-7 having another litter of pups. One time the biologist on the other end of the phone paused, then said in a slightly annoyed tone, “He isn’t a rock star, you know. He’s just a wolf.”
In one respect, that biologist was right. OR-7 was just a wolf, living as a wolf does, doing ordinary wolf things.
But from my perspective, it was his impeccable timing that made him something more.
OR-7’s arrival in California handed our state its own wolf conservation success opportunity (and it felt a little more than coincidental that he showed up on the 38th anniversary of the Endangered Species Act).
Two months after OR-7 wandered into Siskiyou County, my organization and allies petitioned the state to protect wolves under California’s own endangered species act. Two years later, the state wildlife agency argued against this step, saying OR-7 had left the state. But satellite records from his radio-collar revealed OR-7 had indeed been back in California that very day.
OR-7’s next display of timing happened on June 4, 2014, when the commission was to vote on whether to grant wolves state protections. During day-long testimony from a packed room of 250+ members of the public, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service announced it had photographic proof that OR-7 and his mate had produced at least three pups.
The room exploded into cheers. A few hours later, the commission cast its vote to ensure any wolves coming to California would have the protections they need.
Those pups were part of OR-7’s legacy. Three have come to California. One became the breeding male of the Lassen pack, California’s only known pack today, and he sired three litters of his own.
There’s a final bit of timing here for OR-7. At this moment, as we celebrate his incredible life, the Trump administration is considering ending most national wolf protections, the very ones that allowed this species to regain a tiny foothold in California.
OR-7 may not be here to howl in protest, but the rest of us who loved him will be.
Amaroq Weiss is a biologist and former attorney, and is a wolf advocate with the Center for Biological Diversity.
