Remembering Gudrun “Gudy” Pflüger (1972-2023)
Gudrun was admired for her good sense of humour, generous spirit, and infectious love for being out on the land.
On August 17, 2023, we lost a dear friend and colleague: Gudrun “Gudy” Pflüger.
As a former professional cross-country skier and elite marathon mountain runner, Gudrun’s exceptional skills made her uniquely suited to track the elusive coastal wolves in British Columbia, Canada. As a field biologist, she was pivotal in helping both scientists and local communities collect vital data, shedding light on the ecology and genetics of wolves in Banff National Park in Alberta, BC’s central coast, northern Alberta, southern Northwest Territories, Prince Albert National Park in Saskatchewan, Riding Mountain National Park in Manitoba, and back to the coast again, in Heiltsuk territory, where many memories were shared.
Documented in films, such as “A Woman Among Wolves” and “Running With Wolves,” Gudrun’s journey was one of passion, unwavering determination, and remarkable resilience, showcasing the profound healing power of nature.
Beyond her significant contributions to wolf conservation, Gudy was a cherished mother, close friend, and a source of inspiration (and humour!) to many within Raincoast and beyond.
In recognition of her influence on our lives, we have dedicated our inaugural Raincoast Radio series Of Wolves and Women to Gudy. Below we share some of our memories from several of her Raincoast-affiliated friends and family, including photos shared by Johanna Gordon-Walker, Chris Darimont, Astrid Vik Stronen, Paul Paquet, and her brother Volker Pflüger.
Remembering Gudrun “Gudy” Pflüger
By Johanna Gordon-Walker
In the spring of 2002, days after completing a bachelor’s degree in Biology at the University of Victoria, I joined the Rainforest Wolf Project field crew. We loaded gear, groceries and ourselves into a station wagon, and drove the length of Vancouver Island to catch the ferry from Port Hardy to Bella Bella before settling into a small shack (actually an old float-house that had been dragged up on the shore) on Denny Island, in Haíɫzaqv territory. Our four-person crew consisted of Chris Darimont, project lead and at this time a graduate student, Gudrun Pflüger, field biologist and accomplished athlete, Chester “Lone Wolf” Starr, Haíɫzaqv knowledge holder and project mentor, and this year’s new addition, myself. As the youngest and least experienced member of the crew, I was fortunate to be mentored by each of my coworkers through this and subsequent field seasons.
Our daily fieldwork routine involved being dropped off on islands and mainland peninsulas throughout the territory to carry out field work solo or in pairs. We followed wolf trails, collected scat and hair samples for genetic and dietary studies, looked for wolf habitat features such as trails, daybeds and dens, observed wolves fishing for salmon and travelling the shores, conducted transect surveys of deer habitat, and learned about the territory.
I have vivid memories of days spent with Gudy on trails and transects. I absorbed tracking skills from her as we crawled through forested trails the height of a wolf’s shoulders, learning to think like a wolf. I adopted her endurance, riding old mountain bikes on rough logging roads to collect wolf scat, and hiking straight-line deer transects through steep, sometimes near-impenetrable brush and blow-down. I managed to mostly keep up with her and she never doubted my ability despite her greater experience and fitness. Working long hours in chilly damp conditions and often in relentless rain, we carried thermoses and enjoyed countless cups of hot tea on remote shorelines and hilltops. Our whole crew (usually including an additional volunteer) worked together on higher elevation surveys, where the breathtaking 360-degree views left us speechless and euphoric. Some days gave us insight into the wolves’ family lives, like the time we located the general area of an inhabited den and heard the voices of very young wolf pups nearby. The thing that stands out most about doing fieldwork with Gudy was that she almost always had a sunny outlook and a sparkle in her eyes. Her love of being out on the land was infectious even when we were soaking wet and exhausted. Any signs we found or wildlife encounters we experienced made her radiate excitement. There was a lot of laughter.
In our modest abode (which honestly was slowly being reclaimed by the earth), Gudy awoke early every day and made us strong coffee. I would then join her to make the hearty lunches that we enjoyed together on days we worked side by side. On days when we took separate routes, we checked in with each other and our other crew members with handheld VHF radios. Gudy mentored me in plant identification as we carried out vegetation surveys on our deer transects; her knowledge of botany fed my desire to know more about plant life and she seemed to enjoy teaching me. She was enamored by the heart-leaved twayblade, which continues to remind me of her.
There are specific moments that stand out to me: Gudy swimming out to the boat after a long day hiking a mountain transect, as our anchor had caught and we couldn’t pull the boat to shore. Despite it being a warm day, she was shivering from the cold ocean dip and her hair was dripping wet, but she still had a radiant grin on her face, taking the unexpected adventure in stride. There was the time we scared the daylights out of two shake-block harvesters on a remote logging road. We were dropped off early in the morning at a landing where this logging road connects with an inlet, and rode our bikes uphill through multiple logging blocks tallying wildlife sign and collecting scat samples. On our way back down, we ripped around a sharp corner spraying gravel, and came upon two men having their lunch on the tailgate of their truck, which they had driven up to the first cut-block after we had passed through. They both leaped off the tailgate in fear, as the noise of our bikes led them to believe a big bear was coming down the road towards them and their lunch. After recovering their pride, they remained in disbelief that we were out there riding around on bikes in such a remote location with only boat access (and no boat in sight). I remember sharing the joy of small pleasures like breaking out the stash of “moose turds” (chocolate-covered almonds) after a particularly demanding day, or basking on our deck on sunny days after processing samples. Most of all I remember her passion for our work and her ready laughter, her warm friendship and characteristic way of expressing herself.
We kept in touch for many years after the wolf project wrapped up, with hand-written letters enclosing photos printed from our SLR cameras during our wolf project days. The photos she sent to me were artfully composed and her letters were full of care and interest in my continued life in Haíɫzaqv territory, where I still live to this day 23 years later. While it is hard to fathom never being able to reconnect again, there is solace in remembering Gudy’s generous spirit and her influence on those fortunate enough to have known her.
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