You learn early in my line of work that wolves don’t lie. They snarl when they mean it. They run when they’re scared. They don’t slap a “Save the Ecosystem” sticker on a truck full of traps.

People? Whole different story.

I’ve spent enough time with “green” organizations to know that the color doesn’t always mean go, grow, or good.

Sometimes, it means money. Sometimes, it means control. And sometimes, for organizations, like the fictional Northern Apex Initiative (NAI), it means camouflage.

See, you get these slick operations that throw words like “conservation,” “balance,” and “public trust” around like seed bombs. But look a little closer and you’ll find those seeds don’t sprout because they're weighed down by politics, corporate ties, and a quiet hatred of wild things that refuse to be managed.

NAI claims to support wolf recovery. They fund habitat mapping, population monitoring, and public education campaigns. Sounds great, right?

Until you realize they’re also lobbying for sterilization over relocation, quiet lethal management, fencing off migration corridors, and selling fear as science. I should know. I took their money. I used their collars. And for a while, I believed the story they were selling: that we were restoring balance.

But balance isn’t sterile. It’s chaos, reactive, and alive. Wolves aren’t numbers in a model. They’re individuals with roles, instincts, and consequences.

You can’t tame wildness and call it stewardship.

So here’s the truth: just because a group says they’re green doesn’t mean they aren’t built on gray intentions.

Ask who benefits. Follow the funding. Watch how they talk about predators—do they sound like allies, or like landlords annoyed that the tenants bite?

And if someone tells you they’re protecting wolves by controlling them, remember this: Sometimes management is just a slow kill with better PR.

If you’re laying your money down, pick your side with your eyes wide open. The wolves don’t get second chances.

—Jess Taylor, Wildlife Biologist

Set in the remote Adirondacks, where wolves have returned after a century-long absence, The Wolfer's Daughter is a chilling and darkly humorous story rooted in real-world conservation, identity, and the blurry lines between what we love and what we fear.