DANCES WITH WOLVES
Near Reitz in the Free State there’s a sanctuary for more than 200 wolves – and they’re all as meek as lambs
IT’S not the kind of sound you’d expect to hear ripping through the quiet of the Free State plains – spine-chilling howls being made by more than 200 wolves smack-bang in the middle of livestock country. But these animals have never caused farmers a moment’s trouble and they’re the pride and joy of the man who’s devoted his life to them. Forget the big bad wolf who gobbled up Little Red Riding Hood’s granny and terrorised the Three Little Pigs – wolves are the gentlest creatures, says Larry Paul, owner of Husky Romi Wolf Sanctuary near Reitz in the Free State.
This haven for abused wolves and huskies is situated on Larry’s 86-hectare farm and houses 214 wolves and 53 huskies.
“These wolves are used to people,” Larry says. “They’re bred as pets or for the hunting industry.”
He abhors hunting. He tells us of the cruelty of canned hunting, where animals are chased into an enclosed space where they can be shot easily.
“People mostly hunt wolves as trophies and for their pelt.”
At one enclosure four wolves trot up to us, tails wagging, tongues lolling, as docile as lap dogs. Just a few months ago the two Canadian timber wolves in the group were seriously neglected, Larry says – the SPCA had confiscated them from a zoo and they were going to be put down.
“I had to put up quite a fight to get them here,” he adds.
Every animal on this farm has a story – and the fact they ended up in this safe space is all thanks to Larry and a husky named Romi. Every animal in the sanctuary has a unique story and is special to Larry. Larry Paul and two of his wolves at his Husky Romi Wolf Sanctuary.
LARRY, a mechanical engineer, discovered his love of wolves about 10 years ago through Romi. The dog belonged to his neighbour at the time but kept running away to visit Larry, who loved to play with him. Eventually the neighbour gave Romi to Larry because the pair had become so close.
Larry got Romi a husky mate, Annie, and a short while later there was a litter of husky pups.
In 2007 he started Husky Romi, a nonprofit organisation. Though it started as a husky sanctuary, he couldn’t say no when he got a call one day about a mistreated wolf. “Kia had been kept in an enclosure and his owner had beaten him.”
Romi died of pneumonia three years after the sanctuary was founded but his memory lives on at the shelter and in Larry’s heart.
Larry’s wolves clearly return the affection
She has for them. In the largest camp a pack of about 25 of them trot up to greet him. He lies down on the grass and they circle him excitedly and lick him.
“Each one is special to me. This one’s name is Frank,” Larry says, pointing to a huge wolf with ice-blue eyes sidling up to us. “He’s named after Frank Sinatra, Ol’ Blue Eyes.”
Larry is mostly dependent on donations – it costs him R28 000 a month to keep the organisation afloat. The public is allowed to visit but there’s no set entry fee; Larry simply asks for donations.
The local vet treats the animals and farmers donate chickens to feed them.
“Some months are really hard. But the wolves and I have never gone a day without food.”
Larry, who’s divorced, pours all his time and energy into the sanctuary. “I don’t draw a salary. I can get by with little – as long as my animals are happy.”