Trill was born to Betsy, and, probably, Ohtsu, along with litter mates Koshie, HB, and Tabu. At four months of age the pups were driven cross country by Dr. and Mrs. Klinghammer to the Philadelphia Zoo. This zoo had donated a litter of pups to us in 1974 – an "oops" litter conceived because they believed that only the alphas mate, and only with each other. (The alphas don't always mate just with each other, and lower ranking wolves may also manage to reproduce.) After the "oops" litter, Shy Boy, their beta male, was vasectomized and the pack did not reproduce any more. Without pups, the exhibit eventually began to die out. In 1984, the zoo asked if we could provide them with a litter of pups. We gave them the great great grandpuppies of their own Shy Boy and Fire Eye.

For several years things went pretty well for the little pack. Trillian was one of those individuals who is only small on the outside. She dominated her sisters, Koshie and the much larger HB, maintaining a six year tenure as alpha female of the Brat Pack, as Janet Lidle dubbed them. Then, in the spring of 1990, tragedy struck. Tabu died after routine tranquilization for an annual medical exam. With Tabu gone, fights broke out among the females and the zoo separated all three. Wolf Park took Koshie back that spring and the zoo found a home for HB at another zoo in Oregon. They tried to find a home for Trill, but nothing suitable turned up. In the end, we brought her back home in June of 1991.

When Trillian arrived at the Park, Dr. Klinghammer approached her crate. Trill appeared to recognize him, greeting, and attempting to lick him through the wire. Uncrated, she went into a kissing frenzy, licking and greeting everyone frantically. Months later she was still a frantic kisser, and appeared to be using it as a kind of testing. She showed aggression towards a couple of people who refused to kiss, or acted inhibited by her osculative frenzies. Because of this we consistently reinforced her for not jumping up to kiss and for years her frenzies were reserved primarily for Monty Sloan and for Brian Bailey, a long time friend who had spent much free time watching her at the Philadelphia Zoo. Along with Janet Lidle, former editor of WOLF! Magazine, Brian was one of the few civilian visitors who was there enough for the wolves to recognize and develop something of a relationship with them. When Trill returned to Wolf Park, Brian typically volunteered here for several months at a time for several years. Trill greeted him like a long lost friend the first time she met him at the Park.

With other humans, instead of kissing frenzies Trillian usually switched to stealing buckets and tongs. Often she scent marked them before we got them back.

By the middle of June we tried walking Trill on a leash – her litter had been "free run" by the 1984 wolf mother without her telling me. Consequently those pups saw leashes as a vile interference with their freedom, not as keys to the outside world. Now, after a year in a holding pen the size of a dog run, Trill, after some initial thrashing around, walked fairly nicely, while chewing the leash in protest at the restraint. The goat, Ericha, helped by coming along on the first walk and distracting Trill from leash chewing. Trill quickly got to like going out on walks – even though the leash remained an integral part of the proceedings.

When we brought Trill back, Koshie could see Trill and immediately ambushed her, with a dangerously intent expression on her face. That set the tone for the rest of their lives. Though the sisters were never friendly enough to risk putting together, Trill did acquire a new male companion: Imbo, who showed a strong family resemblance to her lost mate, Tabu. Acting as go-betweens we took each wolf some of the other's scats and later let Imbo into the corridor next to Trill. Their behavior was auspicious enough to put them together during the breeding season of 1992. Imbo walked around posing and puffed up until he looked like an amiable bear. Trill mostly ignored him but was not nervous; she scent rolled, marked and ate. If Imbo approached Trill bared her teeth in an emphatic warning not to presume. Imbo, the gentleman, never presumed. They spent a while as WOSSLQs - Wolves of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters, but before the breeding season was over they were both making courtship overtures, though they did not present us with any puppies.

Unfortunately Imbo and Trill did not spend their golden years together. In the fall of 1992, Trill was widowed again – Imbo had worn away all the cartilage between some of his vertebrae. The diagnosis was degeneration proceeding toward painful paralysis, so Imbo was humanely put to sleep. A few weeks later we retired Faust and Mephisto, two thirteen year old brothers, from the main pack, and tried pairing them with Trillian. It was not a success. She started harassing Mephisto, and Faust, who seemed interested in courting her, started watching her and stepping between her and his brother when she attempted to stalk Meph. We took her out of their pen. It would not have lasted anyway. Both old males' hindquarters gave out before spring and they, too, were put to sleep.

Trill loved exploring the field south of the dam. Usually she got to do this off leash, but one of her most memorable excursions there was conducted on leash. She was taken on what was meant to be a short outing while her pen was mowed. After we had been walking for ten or twelve minutes I glimpsed a flash of something white bounding through the tall grass. It might have been a cat, or, more likely, a cottontail's tail. Trillian saw the flash of white too. Trill wanted to go and investigate. As she was still on leash I delayed her enough to give the critter a chance to escape.

Suddenly she stopped straining at the leash and cocked her head, ears pricked far forward, at a thick clump of clover, alfalfa, ragweed, all bound in a tangle by wild morning glory vines. She did a small prey jump – the lovely arching "mouse pounce" so typical of foxes – and backed out of the vegetation holding her prize. It was, as far as I can recall, her first time catching live prey here at the park. She looked so pleased. (Her eyes, how they twinkled, her dimples how merry.) I would not have thought that Trill could grin that hugely and still retain a firm grip on her prey, but she did, holding it up with a proud air of "Look what I've got!" She was holding a dazed looking adult skunk firmly by the rump. My first thoughts were along the lines of "We're in a Disney movie as the comic relief." My second thoughts were along the lines of "Please, God, don't let it spray her in the eyes or bite her!" and "Thank goodness her rabies shots are current."

Trillian set the skunk down briefly to get a better grip. I was not quick enough to yank her away before she got it again. This time she held it up by the tail, still looking as if this were one of the nicest things that had ever happened to her. The skunk, on the other hand, was looking more awake by the second. Its mouth was open, showing most of its teeth, as it began to wave its jaws around. Obviously the idea of biting someone had occurred to it. Just then, Trillian decided to put her treasure down and try again for a better grip on it. This time I was quick enough to pull her away. Trill did not like that at all, gave me a very dirty look and tugged frantically to get back to the skunk. At that point the skunk sprayed a parting salvo as it hurried off into the cover of the clover.

Luckily it was almost out of ammunition and its spray missed Trill and me both. Trill gave up pursuing the skunk to roll in this new olfactory delight, doing her best to smear the skunk spray into her fur. Her scent rolling was long and thorough. Standing by an excited Trill, who was making herself stinkier and stinkier with each squirm and slither, I reflected that this was preferable to having her follow the skunk and possibly be bitten or sprayed directly in the face.

As the years passed, Trill mellowed and got to meet more interns and, thanks in part to Amanda, got to go on more walks. Toward the end of her life she was mellow enough to give lessons in leash walking to interns. As an alternative to being turned loose in one of the fields under supervision she also liked to go to the visitor center and "shop" and look at the foxes. Basil would come to the fence and wriggle and wag and scream. He looked very excited at the prospect of possibly meeting a huge, white lady "fox".

Trill suffered and recovered from a possible stroke in early August of 1999. In October of 2000 she suffered a similar, but milder incident. In each case she made a remarkable recovery, showing amazing tenacity and drive to get up and do things even when plagued with balance problems and some loss of strength and motor control. In the fall of 2000 and the 2000-2001 winter it became hard to put weight on Trill and keep it on. We tried cooking meatballs with lard added, and she devoured these enthusiastically for a while. With the advent of spring she was still thinner than I liked but still able to enjoy walks and visits from human friends.

The spring started off pretty auspiciously. Trill was remarkably mobile and active. I recall one time in early march when Gale, Jess, and Andrew took Trill for a walk. They had not specifically planned to do this but she leaned and butted and wound around legs and said "roo" softly and repeatedly – and irresistibly. When we were afraid to have her overdo by taking her on walks that were too long for her we could do things like hide treats along the route of a shorter walk, vary the walks and once we let her spend a while in the biggest back enclosure, exploring, looking for other wolves' caches and checking out their "graffiti" in the form of scent marks.

We knew something was wrong in mid-May when Trill showed a lump on her jaw line, in the area of the carnassials. Our first thought was that she had an abscessed tooth, as she had once years before. Her face did not seem as tender as when she had an abscess though. Dr Dave came out on his Saturday afternoon off and squatted down to greet Trill. She gave him an enthusiastic kissing and he said he caught a whiff of necrosis on her breath. He was able to persuade her to let him retract her lips and get several quick looks at her gum. She fussed and finally refused to cooperate but he had seen enough to convince him it was a tumor rather than an abscess. He told us that there was a very high probability that the tumor was malignant and that at Trill's age he would not recommend surgery to remove it. He did offer to come out the following Tuesday, sedate her, and check carefully. If it was an abscess, maybe he could remove the tooth. If it was a tumor he could put her to sleep.

Amanda argued successfully with me against putting Trill to sleep so soon. At the time Trill was energetic (for a very geriatric wolf) and very social. She adored holding court with the staff and interns and tried to inveigle us into taking her out for walks. The weather was mild. Trill was still enjoying herself. There was no sign the tumor caused her pain – she chewed equally on both sides of her mouth. Why not help her to "seize the day" each day until she "told" us she was ready to go? I was chagrined that I had not thought of this myself and agreed readily. Everyone cheered up a little – understanding that it was a temporary reprieve and incumbent on us to watch Trill closely for signs of acute discomfort. We marked the following Tuesday by taking Trill for a walk instead of euthanizing her.

Over the next few days Trill went on long walks, not just wee excursions down Testosterone Alley. She went to the as far as the garden with long time sponsor and friend Judy Rademaker. She amazed me by the amount of energy she had. She had fast food twice a day. I had been concerned that the necrosis Dr. Dave smelled meant that the tumor was outgrowing its blood supply. When this happens the animal can suffer a raging infection as the tumor begins to die. To counter this possibility we started Trill on antibiotics which she took twice daily in Burger King Breakfast Croisandwiches, McDonald's cheeseburgers, and of course, Marla's "blue plate specials" incorporating meat, eggs and cheese. Trill typically inhaled them all. Dr. Harper said that carcass parts or any hard food would be likely to make her mouth bleed – it bled a little anyway, not continuously, but nearly daily. She got Nebraska Brand but she needed it thawed.

In June Trill's energy dropped to the point where we did not dare to take her for long walks. She had a very nice outing on leash in the bison pasture on May 29, checking out the stockade corral and pottering over to the graveyard and that was one of the last non-short walks she had. We were so lucky that day – Janet Lidle, who had watched Trill all the time she was at the Philadelphia Zoo, came out for what we all knew would be a last visit together. The weather had been hot but when we went to get Trill, some beautiful cumulus clouds moved between us and the sun, making it mild instead of hot. A refreshing little breeze sprang up and stayed with us most of the time we were out. Designer weather. Trill pottered along, stopping to catch her breath, and then continuing her explorations with every evidence of pleasure.

By June the tumor had begun to grow over one tooth and across her palate. Still she ate, enthusiastically, swallowing fast food so fast that she did not find and reject the hidden antibiotics. Though the tumor did not seem to be causing her acute discomfort, by June 18th her appetite decreased again. She was interested in tasting food but not really in eating it. She greeted us but did not seem to want people to spend a long time giving her body rubs – which she had been repeatedly asking for up until that day. Gale Motter, who had been doing most of the medication and taking interns in on visits, realized that Trill had slipped off the "plateau", having used up pretty much all her "good time". Amanda and I examined her and concurred.

The interns and staff and Dr. Klinghammer gathered at East Lake. Trill greeted us all one last time. Dr. Dave's associate, Dr. Julia Becker, came out and performed the euthanasia, first sedating her, and then when she was relaxed and sleepy, giving her the last gift we could give. Trill died peacefully, nestled next to Amanda, one of her favorite places to be.

 
               Pat Goodmann