Barley’s professional title is “canine conservationist.” This summer, the former shelter Australian Shepherd was searching the woods on the outskirts of Craig, Alaska, for wolf poop.
“Biologists love poop. It’s a huge part of our job,” said Barley’s owner, Kayla Fratt.
Fratt is a dog trainer and Ph.D. student at Oregon State University. She trains dogs, like Barley, to help solve mysteries – less like Scooby Doo and more like conservation mysteries. Fratt said that before they came up to Alaska, she and Barley had hunted jaguar scat in Guatemala and, more recently, tracked down bird and bat carcasses on wind farms in the Midwest.
“For research on how they can set up the wind turbines to reduce those fatalities and kill fewer of these migrating flying animals,” Fratt said.
That’s partially why the Alaska Department of Fish and Game brought Fratt here to Prince of Wales Island.
Fratt said the mystery they’re out to solve is how wolves are moving through this environment, or, rather, swimming.
“We know the wolves swim between these islands,” Fratt said over the tinkling of the bell on Barley’s jacket.
The canine conservationist followed a scent to a rotted log. Beneath it was a small pile of wolf droppings camouflaged by the undergrowth. He lay down.
Prince of Wales Island is massive, and it’s surrounded by many uninhabited outlying islands. Biologists believe the wolves here likely showed up around 16,000 years ago. They are part of a subspecies known as Alexander Archipelago wolves, which are only native to the woods and coasts of Southeast Alaska and British Columbia.
Currently, state researchers estimate wolf density on Prince of Wales Island and then apply that model to the outer islands.
One of the leading methods they use for gathering data are contraptions called hairboards. They’re basically wooden planks wrapped in barbed wire, nailed to the ground, and lathered with a stinky goo. Wolves like to roll on them and they leave hair, which managers can test for DNA.
“And there’s reason to believe that that won’t be accurate,” said Fratt. It’s a sentiment also expressed by Tom Schumacher, the regional supervisor for Fish and Game.
“Some people think that that produces low estimates, and it’s quite possible it does,” Schumacher said. Schumacher said that part of the hairboard method is attempting to account for the wolves that hairboards could be missing.
“Like if you say all 3-year-old females never roll on hairboards, then those animals are invisible to the sampling technique,” Schumacher explained at a public meeting in Craig last year.
Additionally, Fish and Game currently has very limited data about how many wolves are on these outer islands.
“And we’re checking all of these islands, I think all in all, we’re going to hit over 25 islands, we’re just getting a ton of data,” said Fratt as she followed Barley through the woods.
Fratt said that by testing the scat they find, they’ll be able to identify individual wolves.
“And with that individual identification – oh, he’s got another one,” Fratt said, interrupted by Barley darting off toward a scent. “With that individual identification, (we) will actually be able to say if we detect the same wolf, say on Prince of Wales and on Hessa Island, then we can say that those wolves are using both the main island and these outer islands as well.”
“Good boy! Catch!” she said, throwing Barley his ball after he tracked down another scat.
Fratt and Barley’s work matters partly because Fish and Game manages the wolf hunting and trapping seasons on Prince of Wales. The trapping season begins Nov. 15 and the hunting season began on Oct. 1. To set a quota of how many wolves you can sustainably hunt, you need to know how many wolves you have. Counting wolves in a dense forest, though, can be like finding a needle in a haystack. In this case, it’s a haystack the size of Delaware.
When Barley caught a whiff of some good data, his behavior changed. He looked focused, slowed down.
“There’s movement,” Fratt said as Barley stopped and began sidestepping. “We call it crabbing. He’s just kind of moving sideways through odor.”
Barley crabbed his way across the trail and then hopped over a log. There, inside a rotting hollow, was a pile of wolf droppings.
“And when you get the right dog for this job, there’s just nothing they want to do other than go to work,” Fratt said proudly.
Barley’s job is very physical. The forest is covered in downed trees and rough terrain. He trains for it like an Olympian.
“He sees a sports medicine veterinarian, he gets a massage every night. We do doggy yoga,” Fratt laughed. “He gets protein powder with his food every day. He’s got these fish oil supplements for his joints.”
Fratt said she got into the work because she always wanted to work outside. She said she grew up in northern Wisconsin, the daughter of a wildlife biologist.
“I always wanted to be one of those people who’s on a nature show, you know, that was that was the dream.”
When Fratt got to college though, she picked up a side gig as a dog trainer.
“So I was kind of balancing these two loves. I really wanted to work in ecology and conservation, but also was making all my money and spending all my time training dogs,” she said.
The lightbulb moment came when she heard about dogs that were trained to sniff out orca poop on the coast of Washington. Fast forward, she and two other trainers founded K9 Conservationists. The company’s mission is to take dogs from shelters and train them into a scientist’s best friend. They’re up to five dogs. Barley was their founding conservationist.
“He’s just over 10 years old. Now this is probably his last big project,” Fratt said. She turned to Barley. “You got anything to say? You want to go to work?”
He shook the bell on his jacket, barked and then took off down the trail.
“As you can tell, Barley is absolutely nuts for his toy. And that’s one of the number one things we look for when we’re hiring a dog for this job,” said Fratt.
That quality makes for a good canine conservationist, and they for it when they recruit trainees from shelters.
“We’re looking for the sort of dog that when you pull the toy out of the bin, they stop breathing, their pupils dilate, you know, and they’re just glued to it,” Fratt said. “Or maybe they’re barking and spinning and screaming, you know, it’s not always nice, it’s not always pretty, but we’re really looking for dogs that are that level of crazy about their toys.”
It’s also a source of frustration for some dog owners. Fratt explained that most of the dogs at K9 Conservationists were given to shelters because they were “too much dog” for someone – the kind of dogs that would tear open a cabinet if you put their tennis ball in it. Those are the dogs they want because they will search through rain and snow without giving up, as long as they know they’ll get their ball at the end of it.
Barley is a true professional. Fratt said he’s found scats that were over a year old, some that were run over by logging trucks. If finding wolf poop was a sport, Barley would be its Lebron James and Fratt said it’s an honor to be courtside for his last season.
“That means so much to me. I’m getting to be somewhere as beautiful and special as Alaska with him and especially as he’s aging and coming to the close of his career,” she said.
Barley’s final project is slated to last for three summers. This was the first.
Get in touch with the author at jack@krbd.org.
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