Tracking wolves in the wild heart of Italy


Nothing moved on the side of the mountain. Nothing except us, as we quietly scanned the wide expanse of snow in the open valley below us, and the forested peaks of the mountains rising on the opposite side. It had been an early start, drinking espressos in the bar of the rustically charming Hotel Iris, before hitting the road at 4:30 am. The journey from the resort town of Pescasseroli had been silent and sleepy, with no other lights except ours as the 4×4 climbed around dark, curving hairpin bends, with snow banked up either side of the road. At one point, our guide, Valeria, slowed the car and quietly called “Wolf, wolf!”

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