In the winter of 2003, a jet-black wolf appeared at the edge of suburban Juneau, Alaska. It was not the snarling villain of folklore. This wolf seemed to crave the company of humans and their dogs.

Soon Romeo, as the wolf came to be known, captured the hearts of almost the entire town. But its presence raised complex questions. Should a predatory animal, however friendly, be encouraged to live among people and their children? What if someone decided to shoot it?

Talking from his winter home in Florida, Nick Jans, a former hunter turned wildlife photographer and the author of A Wolf Called Romeo, describes how some tracks in the snow led to an encounter that would change his life; why the Inuit revere the wolf; and why there are parts of the book he still can’t read in public without crying.

This is a wonderful book full of surprises that challenge cultural stereotypes of wolves, human beings, and dogs. Set the scene. How did you first meet the wolf called Romeo?

The first thing I saw was tracks out on the lake in front of our house on the outskirts of Juneau. A few days later, I looked out from my house and there was this wolf out on the ice. I’d had 20 years of experience around wolves up in the Arctic and immediately knew it was a wolf, not a dog. I threw on my skis and found him.

The amazing thing about this animal was how relatively relaxed and tolerant he was. That’s not out of the question for wolves. Certain wolves are like dogs, and they all have different personalities. Some are more cautious or fearful than others. But this wolf was downright relaxed and tolerant from the start, as if he had dropped out of the sky like a unicorn.

It’s one thing to have a tolerant meeting with a wild wolf that goes on for a matter of minutes. But this went on for six years, so we got to know this wolf, whom we came to call Romeo, as an individual. And he got to know us and our dogs.

For want of a better word, the only thing I can say from a human perspective is that it amounted to friendship. If you wanted to be scientifically correct, it would be “social mutual tolerance.” But it was more than that. The wolf would come trotting over to say hi, and give a little bow and a relaxed yawn, and go trotting after us when we went skiing. There was no survival benefit. He obviously just enjoyed our company.

Romeo was a bit of a flirt, and like Shakespeare’s Romeo seemed to fall in love with your Juliet of a yellow Labrador. How did you accept this odd pairing? And how did Romeo challenge your own preconceptions of wolfish behavior?

The first thing is that wolves have a tendency to attack strange canines and at least beat them down, if not eat them. It’s a pretty common thing, as any good wolf biologist will tell you, that any wolf’s job in his righteous social behavior is to investigate and assault strange canines. They very seldom accept strangers.

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