Call of the Wild : Mesmerized ‘Wolf Lady’ Cares for 12 Beasts in Ventura County Canyon

At the end of a dirt road that slices a jagged path into one of Ventura County’s most remote and wild canyons, past the posts that warn strangers to “Keep Out,” a wolf’s soulful howl cuts through the night.

On a rocky hilltop in front of a small white house, the howl becomes contagious. Soon 12 wolves, exercising a primal urge, stretch their heads to the sky and groan and wail into the canyon.

The noise jolts Deborah Warrick from her sleep, but she has no fear. On some nights, when the desire overtakes her, she opens her throat and joins the savage chorus.

The 40-year-old, self-described “Wolf Lady” of Ventura County rises every morning revitalized and ready for another day in a vocation that has brought her debt, threats and many sleepless nights.

Owner and caretaker of 12 pure-bred wolves and publisher of a quarterly newsletter on the animals, Warrick said she has spent 15 years spellbound by the beasts.

“They come to me with an independence, a wild spirit,” she said. “It’s incredible just being around them.”

Overlooking 18 acres of natural brushland in the Carlisle Canyon area just outside Thousand Oaks, a half-dozen cages jut out from the rocks. Inside, Warrick’s wolves pace and stretch and brush their coarse fur against the chain-link fence.

They are arctic, British Columbian, eastern timber and interior Alaskan breeds. Some are gray, others are white. All are majestic creatures with piercing yellow eyes and wispy tails. All can leap eight feet in the air from a standstill.

And all are unmistakably wild.

“They can be tame, they can walk with me and I can pet them, but these are not domestic pets,” Warrick said. “They are very powerful and destructive animals.”

Warrick said most of her wolves have been “rescued” from homes where the owners discovered that the animals cannot be controlled.

Over the past decade, movies such as “Dances With Wolves” and “Never Cry Wolf” have helped the animals shed their marauding image and develope an appeal with some pet owners. Believing they could domesticate the beasts, people purchased them illegally and brought them into their homes.

But as wolves mature they become testy and territorial, Warrick said. “That’s when people realize the thrill of having a wild pet is much more risky than they ever imagined.”

Ventura County animal regulation Director Kathy Jenks said her department has responded to several incidents in which wolves have attacked unexpectedly. In 1992 in Saticoy, one of her officers was seriously mauled by an abused wolf-hybrid--part wolf and part dog.

Jenks said that incident convinced her of the dangers of keeping wolves.

“If you’ve ever watched a wolf stalk a child it would raise the hair on your neck,” she said.

Attacks are rare but gruesome: In the United States, nine children have been killed by wolves and wolf hybrids since 1986. In at least one case, the child was partly eaten.

Warrick is quick to point out that these incidents, although tragic, should not be blamed on the animals. “When that happens, the owner of the wolf is 100% to blame,” she said. “The wolves are only doing what they know.”

In the 15 years she has cared for the beasts, Warrick has a few small scars of her own, but the animals have never seriously attacked her. During the day, as she changes the straw in their cages and drops them chicken necks and horse meat, the wolves are playful, not vicious. She slips into their cages with ease, speaking softly, brushing them, rubbing fly repellent on their ears.

They respect her. In the wolf’s world, where hierarchy is critical, dominance over the animals is Warrick’s only means of preventing attack.

If the wolf charges her, Warrick said she has to tackle it and hold it to the ground. She explained: “Once you get a wolf down, it submits.”

Fit and strong, the onetime model takes the wolves out in pairs and jogs them through the hills that stretch out from the secluded house she rents. The wolves follow, accepting her as their leader, never straying. In the three years since she located in Carlisle Canyon she has never lost a wolf, which is why her neighbors are not concerned by their presence.

“If she has wolves up there, it’s never bothered me,” said Nick Demma, who lives on Carlisle Road, just a mile from Warrick.

Though Jenks says there are at least a dozen Ventura County residents who own wolves or wolf-hybrids, Warrick is one of only five in the county who hold the proper permits.

Statewide, the California Department of Fish and Game has issued 26 such permits. And no one can legally own the wild animals as pets.

Fish and Game Warden Phil Nelms, who heads the division that issues wild animal permits, explained that the strict guidelines are for the general welfare of residents, and that there are only rare instances under which wolf ownership can be allowed.

Warrick’s permit enables her to keep the wolves for educating others about the animals. To that end, she publishes a quarterly magazine called “Soul of the Wolf,” which is an eclectic mix of stories about wolf care, protection of wolves in the wild and other photos and bits of fiction.

The entire magazine is produced on Warrick’s computer. She sells about 1,000 subscriptions and a handful of ads. It is her major source of income.

Warrick also sells about six wolf cubs a year, for $800 each. Those, she said, are sold only to wildlife parks, zoos and wolf owners who hold proper permits.

She spends $1,000 each month on food, and $500 or more each year on permits.

The money allows her to correspond with other wolf owners and she is alerted to wolves that are being abused. In one case, she said, a man was clobbering his wolf with a crowbar to keep it in line. She bartered with him until he agreed to sell it.

As a child growing up in Northern California, Warrick dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, but instead held a bizarre mix of jobs. She performed in a professional roller-skating show in San Francisco and she was a sky-diver until an accident left her with a broken back. She started an advertising business, took classes at the Los Angeles Zoo in animal care, worked in a law office and worked briefly as an investment counselor.

Then, in 1980, a sky-diving friend gave her a wolf cub and she was mesmerized. Her wolf pack grew to three, then seven, then 10. Recently, it expanded to 12 when a friend died in a car wreck; Warrick was willed two Alaskan wolves.

She has taken to the moniker of Wolf Lady, even ordering a personalized license plate for her pickup.

But now the Wolf Lady is preparing to leave her lair in the mountains near Thousand Oaks, heading to less crowded terrain in another state.

As she walked with her wolf Savannah down the winding canyon road, she spoke of her plans to open a sanctuary for wolves where they will have more room to roam.

In many ways, Warrick said, she feels indebted to the animals.

“I rescued these wolves from death and now they keep me going,” she said. “I couldn’t imagine a better way of life.”