Mammalogists: Why are we afraid of wolves but not our own decisions?

Human interference in wildlife populations disrupts natural balance and simple solutions rarely resolve the complex tensions between biodiversity, lifestyles and economic interests, write University of Tartu mammalogists Maris Hindrikson, Kirke Raidmets and Egle Tammeleht.
Large predators are most often discussed in the context of attacks on livestock and domestic animals, which frequently lead to conflict. As a result, issues related to large predators are often seen as the concern of a fairly narrow segment of society. Yet predators should be viewed as a matter of broad public interest because they play a vital role in nature by keeping prey populations in check and thereby influencing the overall health of ecosystems, including plant life and the landscape itself.
To understand why the presence of predators is essential for ecological balance, one must grasp how predator-prey dynamics work.
Man as a super-predator: Effects on natural dynamics
The predator-prey dynamic is well described by the Lotka-Volterra model, developed about a hundred years ago. According to this model, stable coexistence between predator and prey is possible. This kind of balance explains why, in nature, the populations of rodents, birds of prey or small mustelids don't grow endlessly, even though humans don't significantly regulate their numbers.
Because the laws of nature are universal, this principle applies to all species without forests becoming overrun with animals. So, when people say that nature must be managed by humans, it's not for nature's sake — it's for our own, often in an effort to fix mistakes we've made.
Nowadays, humans often act as a kind of super-predator, hunting both predators and prey. As a result, predator populations decrease, while prey populations rise because they face less predation pressure.
This approach is frequently used in population control and wildlife management because it aligns well with hunters' interests. However, it can also create new problems for farmers and foresters in the form of increased wildlife damage, making them almost dependent on hunters.
Naturally, there are other possible scenarios. If only predators are hunted, prey populations increase, while predator numbers remain stable. If only prey are hunted, both prey and predator numbers decline. If no hunting occurs at all, both predator and prey populations grow until they reach the environment's natural carrying capacity, which sets the limits for predator-prey dynamics. In reality, hunting only predators is unlikely, since humans primarily want to hunt ungulates. It's also doubtful that humanity could ever completely give up hunting.
The scenario of hunting only prey is perhaps best illustrated in our region by the relationship between the lynx and the roe deer populations.
The lynx is a large predator that prefers roe deer when available. Due to harsh winters and intense hunting pressure, the roe deer population declined sharply in 2009–2010 and, partly as a result, so did the lynx population. As the roe deer population recovered — thanks to hunting restrictions — eager hunting resumed, eventually reaching some of the highest harvest numbers in recent years. For example, over 31,000 roe deer were hunted in 2019 and nearly 26,000 the following year.
Although hunters blame large predators, it's actually the high hunting volumes that have driven the roe deer population back down, clearly showing the amplified impact of the "super-predator." As a result, the lynx population, which had begun to recover, has also shown signs of stagnation, even though official monitoring data indicate it has not yet reached its previous numbers.
Of course, the lynx–roe deer dynamic isn't a perfectly simple system as the model might suggest. When the roe deer population declines, lynx don't face mass starvation; they shift to other prey species. This is enough for survival, but not enough to maintain the species' typical reproductive rates.

Hunting wolves helps African swine fever spread
The situation clearly becomes much more complex when a predator has several primary prey species. Such is the case with the wolf.
According to an ongoing dietary study at the University of Tartu, in addition to roe deer, a wolf's diet commonly includes other predators, rodents, wild boar and to a lesser extent moose and hares. Consuming multiple prey species reduces the predator's impact on any one prey population while making the predator itself more adaptable and resilient, since it is not dependent on a single species for survival.
Beyond its varied diet, the wolf also differs from the lynx in terms of hunting strategy. While the lynx is an ambush predator that kills the nearest animal it encounters regardless of sex or age, the wolf exhausts its prey through pursuit, often targeting the weakest — typically the sick or young. Wolves also feed on animals they didn't kill themselves, which is why they are known as the "clean-up crew" of the forest.
Wolves have been shown to play a limiting role in the spread of several diseases, including African swine fever (ASF), because viruses cannot survive passage through the digestive systems of scavenging animals. Moreover, sick animals are more likely to fall prey to wolves. This sanitation role, however, can only take effect if wolf populations are not suppressed through hunting. Yet due to human "management," the natural predator-prey dynamic is often disrupted.
ASF was first detected in wild boar in Estonia in 2014. This year, the country experienced another widespread outbreak. Since there is still no cure for the disease, it triggered preventive measures: mass culling of domestic pigs on farms and widespread hunting of wild boar. However, the new large-scale outbreak suggests that while these measures may temporarily limit the spread of the virus, they may not be the most effective long-term solution.
Until the recent outbreaks, wild boar numbers in Estonia had been very high, largely because year-round feeding stations artificially raised the environment's natural carrying capacity, creating ideal conditions for the disease to spread. Meanwhile, predator numbers were brought so low that they could no longer curb disease transmission.
A sharp drop in wild boar numbers, especially when coinciding with a low point in alternative prey populations, can lead wolves, normally wary of humans, to seek food near human settlements. More frequent attacks on livestock and dogs understandably increase public fear and resentment toward predators, which in turn raises pressure to reduce wolf numbers.
Human tolerance governs large predator populations
Large predators and their fate depend on each of us more than we often realize. Scientific research shows that societal tolerance toward large predators is closely linked to the stability and survival of their populations.
People often recall how wolves attacked livestock and even humans decades ago, but tend to overlook the fact that rabies was widespread at the time and that populations of wild prey were extremely low. Wild boar returned to Estonia in the first half of the last century after being absent for hundreds of years. Beavers were only reintroduced in 1957, having been hunted to extinction more than a century earlier. Meanwhile, moose and roe deer populations were also critically low due to unregulated hunting and, at times, harsh winter conditions.
The Baltic states are one of the few regions in Europe where humans have lived alongside wolves and other large predators since first settling the area, even though predators have at times been nearly eradicated here as well. Despite this long coexistence, fear and hostility toward large predators are not uncommon in Estonia, although they are often quite irrational. Most people will never encounter a wolf in the wild, nor suffer any direct harm from one.
An as-yet-unpublished study by mammalogists at the University of Tartu shows that tolerance toward large predators is not uniform across society — it varies greatly depending on which societal group a person belongs to. The average person is significantly more tolerant of wolves than a hunter or farmer. However, although the general public tends to view predators more positively, their voices are not always the ones that are heard.
Ecological illiteracy and the crisis of the image of large predators
So-called public opinion is largely shaped by the loudest voices, usually the negatively affected groups such as livestock farmers, whose attitudes directly impact the fate of large predators. Effectively addressing the concerns of these groups is therefore essential. However, neither ad hoc hunting nor the overexploitation of large predators' natural prey species will truly help livestock farmers or agricultural producers.
Even if wildlife population management doesn't directly take into account the dynamic nature of natural processes or the full range of interspecies relationships, the complexity of these systems should still be acknowledged. Management decisions should not be based on oversimplified, lay assumptions — for example, that the environment's carrying capacity is fixed or that animal population growth is reliably predictable and exploitable by humans.
Unfortunately, we have reached a point where some users of natural resources present themselves as experts with the confidence of a "first-year law student" after a low-quality hunting course. It is difficult to expect that representatives of interest groups sitting at roundtables making decisions about wildlife populations are capable of understanding the full complexity of what happens in nature, or even willing to try. And even less likely is that they truly represent society as a whole.
Thus, every problem is too often attributed to a straightforward link with the abundance of one wildlife species or another and every solution is seen as equally simple. Yet ecosystems are no less complex than other highly intricate systems, such as human societies, major cities or the global economy.
Due to a widespread lack of ecological literacy, "nature regulation" drifts from one extreme to another instead of being managed in a balanced way that considers the broader picture. Natural sciences are increasingly labeled as ideological.
The politicization of and bias in environmental decisions — combined with "public involvement" that relies only on select interest groups — has sidelined a segment of society that would be willing to tolerate small inconveniences in order to see animals other than just deer and moose in the wild. If we've never truly asked the broader public, how do we know what the prevailing societal view really is? Have we, as a country, avoided asking because we're afraid of the answer?
A close look at how large predators are portrayed in the media reveals that coverage is rarely balanced or inclusive of different audience perspectives. The general public's positive attitude toward these species is seldom reflected in public discourse, which tends to focus instead on emotionally charged conflicts and reports of damage. This creates a distorted picture in which predators are cast as dangerous foes rather than as a natural and essential part of the ecosystem. Such portrayals deepen social divides and prevent a balanced understanding of our coexistence with large predators.
That doesn't mean the average person denies that conflicts sometimes occur, but they are far more open to solving those problems through alternative means. It's no coincidence that nearly every European country has developed or even bred specific dog breeds designed to protect livestock from wolves. In traditional Estonian farm culture, it was common practice for sheep to be under supervision during the day and returned to the barn at night. Could this hint at a flexible solution for modern producers, one that meets the expectations of conscious consumers and improves their sales in the process?
At the crossroads of diversity, economy and convenience
The complex nature of human–wolf interactions is well illustrated by a recent case involving a wolf pack preying on cattle in Soomaa. There, the cattle are kept in a way that allows them to roam freely, year-round, across a large area in the middle of a national park — unsupervised, calving and sleeping under open skies. In other words, they are completely accessible to predators.
Wolves feed on both wild ungulates and domestic animals, generally preferring wild prey whenever possible, as shown by a large-scale study spanning 27 countries. However, wolf pups learn feeding strategies from older pack members. For example, a population of coastal wolves on the east coast of North America has developed a diet focused on fish and sea otters along the shoreline.
This behavior — learning and passing on effective strategies — is very typical of mammals. The Soomaa wolf pack, too, has developed and passed down a successful feeding strategy across generations.
From a natural law perspective, feeding on free-ranging cattle is entirely rational — this opportunity simply didn't exist before, as cattle were not kept this way. Yet it's worth noting that these cattle help maintain open floodplain meadows, a task previously done by humans. This offers a good example of how difficult it can be to balance natural biodiversity, evolving human lifestyles and economic interests.
So where, then, are large predators supposed to live? The question isn't just whether wolves can live in Soomaa — one of Estonia's most ecologically intact large protected areas and a core stronghold for the country's wolf population over the past 20 years. The real question is whether we are capable of shaping landscapes, including the landscapes of our minds and hearts, where apex predators also have a place.
Wolves should not live in cities, nor do we want them to, but perhaps we should take a moment to consider: where is there a place for wolves on our landscapes? Here in Estonia, a country whose biodiversity and still-untamed nature we, deep down, are always so proud of. At least until it begins to interfere with our personal comfort.
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Editor: Marcus Turovski










