It’s hard to describe the awe I felt in Yellowstone a couple of weeks ago. We had encountered several members from a pack of Gray Wolves near a kill they had made on the edge of the Firehole River. We watched them feeding on the carcass that was partially submerged. When they were sated, they casually strolled up the bank, across the road in front of us and up the hillside. As we stood in front of our Snow Coach, Wolves suddenly appeared on the hillside next to us. Their howling gave me goosebumps as the Wolves on the hillside listened to their pack mates calling from the distance. What a privilege it was to witness. On my many visits to Yellowstone in recent years, I have heard and even seen Wolves often. Most of the time, the Wolves have been so far away they were barely visible to the naked eye and even with the reach of a 600mm or 800mm lens, they were still microdots on the landscape so there was no photograph there. On this day, however, there was no question that we were photographing Wolves.