“In the beginning, there was First Wolf and First Human,” states the first line of the Ojibwe creation story. It goes on to describe the good life they had, romping together in the meadow, napping side-by-side in the afternoon sun, and hunting and feasting together.
The fact that proto-Wolves and proto-Humans procured and shared the same food is not only a theme in the traditional legends of the Ojibwe and many other indigenous peoples, but it is supported by anthropological research. And it changed the trajectory of Human evolution. We’ll get to that amazing story and the science behind it in a moment, but first I’d like to point out one reason it is particularly relevant to us in this day.
Proponents of healthy diets ranging from vegan and vegetarian to paleo and carnivore often cite the diets of our early Human ancestors to support their arguments for the foods they deem best suited for us. What is usually missing is concrete anthropological and anatomical evidence. As well, there is a significant influence on our ancestral diet that is seldom, if ever, mentioned—Wolf.
Let’s start with a look at who is commonly accepted as the most likely first protohuman ancestor: Australopithecus, who lived between two and four million years ago. Of the eight species of Australopithecus discovered to date, afarensis—the species that the famous 1974 fossilized skeleton discovery named Lucy belongs to—is most widely regarded as our direct ancestor.
Afarensis males were just under 5 feet (150 cm) tall, and females were close to 3 1/2 feet (105 cm) in height. Males weighed in at around 90 pounds (42 kg) and females went 65 pounds (29 kg) on average. That is a rather extreme case of sexual dimorphism, which is a story for another time. Right now, we want to focus on other features of afarensis. To help compensate for small size, afarensis retained the long, curved toes of their forest-dwelling ancestors, most likely to facilitate quick tree climbing in the face of danger.
Although afarensis were bipedal, they still retained the semi-erect posture and bent hips and knees of their tree-climbing forebears. Those features restricted afarensis’ ability to walk and run quickly and efficiently, which translated to low endurance and limited range. Later Hominins had the height and fully erect bipedalism that allowed them the range of movement over the landscape to take advantage of a much more varied and nutrient-rich diet.
Afarensis were almost exclusively vegetarian. We know that about them because of the carbon and nitrogen isotope deposits on their teeth. Plant foods are carbon-based and animal foods are nitrogen-based, so an isotope analysis gives us a fairly accurate picture of the percentage of plant and animal matter in an animal’s diet. Specifically, the higher the ratio of 15N to 14N nitrogen isotopes, the higher the content of protein in the diet. Considering afarensis’ low nitrogen isotope ratio and their limited mobility, the only animal protein they likely consumed was insects, bird eggs, and whatever occasional small animals they could catch.
Here is where Wolf enters the picture. At best, afarensis could only have had a secondary relationship with Wolf, as one of the scavengers coming around either after Wolves abandoned their kill or chasing Wolves off of the kill. That scavenging may have made it possible for afarensis to consume more protein and fat, which allowed for the increased brain volume, body size, and level of bipedalism needed to follow Wolves and the ungulate herds.
The Wolf-Hominin relationship grew from there, to the point where the two began hunting together. That catalyzed the convergent evolution of the two lineages. Two million years ago, Canis etruscus, the immediate ancestor of the Gray Wolf, coexisted with Homo erectus, our immediate ancestor. Unlike afarensis, Homo erectus—as the species name implies— had vertical posture and long legs, and they were up to 6 feet (180 cm) tall, which made them capable of the long-distance running needed to hunt open-country game alongside Wolf.
In line with convergent evolution, the modern Gray Wolf (Canis lupus) and contemporary Human (Homo sapiens) appeared on the scene at around the same time. The earliest Gray Wolf fossils found to date are 400,000 years old, and the oldest discovered Homo sapiens remains are dated at 300,000 years.
All told, our ancestral lineage has been consistently consuming meat in significant quantities since its transformation into carnivores at the beginning of the Pleistocene Epoch (Ice Age) which was 2.6 million years ago. During the Late Pleistocene, which began 125,000 years ago, we Homo sapiens coexisted and interbred with our Homo neanderthalensis and Homo Denisova (prop) cousins across Eurasia. All three of us had a close relationship with Wolf: we lived in proximity to each other, traveled and hunted together, and shared a hunt-based culture along with a high-meat-content diet.
Recent research shows the typical historical and contemporary hunter-gatherer diet to be more than half meat. One example is the traditional Inuit diet, which is 70 to 80% meat. The Neanderthal diet was over 80% meat. Archaeological evidence shows that even after our kind started to abandon the hunter-gatherer lifestyle for herding (around 11,000 years ago), we continued with our meat-centered diet.
In summary, we appear to be carnivores to the core: evolutionarily, morphologically, and metabolically. We have long lost the digestive system structure and enzymes necessary for breaking down large quantities of plant matter. Instead, our stomachs have the high hydrochloric acid (HCl) levels common to carnivores—our stomach pH ranges from 1.5 to 2.0, which is nearly the same as the 1.0 to 2.0 of a Wolf. HCl is necessary for the digestion of protein and kills harmful bacteria.
On the other hand, Chimpanzees, our closest primate relatives, have retained the plant matter digestive system features of our common ancestor. Chimpanzees have a non-acid stomach environment, with a pH hovering around 7, which is neutral. Not surprisingly, then, we find the Chimpanzee diet to be 97% plant matter.
The same is true for all other primates most closely related to Chimpanzees. Gorillas have a stomach pH that ranges between 5 and 7, with plants comprising 98% of their diet. The Gibbon’s diet weighs in at 94-97% plant matter, and the Orangutan’s percentage is similar.
Baboons, who are primates more distantly related to us and the other primates mentioned, have a stomach pH of 3.7, which is slightly acid and indicates a more significant animal component in their diet than in the diets of the primates we have covered. Sure enough, 20% of the Baboon diet is comprised of insects and small animals, with 80% being vegetable matter.
And so goes one central chapter in our evolution: the story of how our intimate relationship with Wolf helped make us who we are today. Ancestral legends have long described our long-standing kinship with Wolf and how similar we are, and now modern science appears to be backing that up.
There is a saying that we are what we eat. Evolutionary history appears to be telling us that we are also how we eat. It is the hunt—how we get our meat—that drew us into relationship with Wolf and orchestrated our evolution into highly functional and intelligent social beings. Without Wolf, we would likely not have the amazing story just told, not to mention that we might still be short, small-brained gatherer-scavengers. How blessed we as a species are for the privilege of walking this life together with Wolf as sister and brother.
If We Are Carnivores…
Although we can subsist on just about anything foodwise, and rational arguments can be mounted to support any of a range of diets, our digestive systems and evolutionary history (which we just explored) point strongly to the fact that we are designed for an animal-based diet. How, though, does that translate to practice on an everyday basis in this day when very few of us still run, hunt, and feast with Wolf?
In order to investigate that question, let’s set aside for a moment the science-based approach used in the previous post and come at it from more of an experiential perspective.
When we go to experience another culture, we like to sample their foods, as so much of who a people are is reflected in their cuisine. The same is true if we want to come to know Wolf and Wolf culture. Only in that case, we come to know ourselves and our cultural roots as well.
Most people wouldn’t see the Wolf-Human diet-culture connection, as they perceive the Human diet and culture as being quite different from Wolf’s. The prevalent belief is that we are omnivores, designed to survive on a wide variety of foods. Yet do we merely want to survive, or would we rather thrive?
Yes, we can keep alive on just about anything digestible, and we can do fairly well on a broad range of what are considered to be healthy and sensible diets. Why, then, are so many of us—even though we eat sensibly—lethargic, overweight, have skin conditions, produce excess gas, have high blood pressure and cholesterol, yada yada. What does that say about us as omnivores and our diet choices?
What I suggest to people is that to find out what we are designed to eat, and thus what holds a good chance of keeping us in optimal health, we revisit our beginnings as a species. When our distant ancestors first came down from the trees and ventured out onto the savanna, they lived on what they could find by browsing and scavenging. Compared to the other savanna dwellers, they were big-bellied, slow moving, and mentally ill-equipped for meeting the many unique challenges of life in the open. If they were going to thrive in this new environment, they would have to slim down, speed up, and smarten up.
In order to do that, they would need a quickly procured, concentrated source of energy. Consuming large quantities of vegetable matter that had to sit for long periods of time to ferment in order to release their nutrients was not going to work.
Then something happened: More and more they started to follow the big-game predators like Wolf and scavenge off of their kills. That gave our ancestors the quick nutrient and energy-rich nourishment needed for maintaining their new nomadic lifestyle. That boost may have inspired them to start asking ourselves, “Why do we have to keep settling for the scraps—why can’t we go out and make our own kills, along with Wolf, and feast to our heart’s content, just like Wolf does?”
Thus began our intimate relationship with Brother Wolf as our life guide and companion. Wolf lived together in close-knit extended families—the best survival strategy for life as an apex predator on the savanna. We learned to do the same. Wolf could keep pace with the herds of grazers. We learned to do the same. Wolf not only survived, but thrived, on a carnivore diet. We learned to do the same.
Some people shake their heads in disbelief over that last statement. Yet it can be quite easily proven—experientially, rather than by citing the research. As the saying goes, experience is the best teacher. First of all, take stock of your present physical condition: Are you lethargic? Overweight? By how much? How often do you feel bloated? How much do you fart? What are your cholesterol levels? What is your skin condition? How capable are you of focusing on a project and getting it done? Do you struggle with depression? Are you critical or argumentative?
Those assessments are your baseline for comparison. Now become a carnivore for 60 days. Then do a reassessment. As the saying goes, The proof is in the pudding. If we evolved as carnivores alongside Wolves, that means our metabolism and psycho-emotional state are designed for peak performance on a carnivore diet. Like Wolves, we should then be able to not only survive but thrive.
A major part of that flourishing is not just the restoration of peak core metabolic functioning but also the improvement of a range of conditions, such as autoimmune disorders, inflammation, joint issues and neuropathy.
A couple of kickoff suggestions: It’s not just what we do, but how we do it that makes the difference. Approach any diet change intelligently—do your research and adjust the diet to your specific needs. A well-grounded carnivore diet involves a lot more than just substituting meat for much of what you typically eat. It takes spacing out your meals, just as Wolves do. Spices and alcohol can short-circuit many of the benefits of the diet. Variety is the spice of this diet: Tap into a wide range of protein sources and consume as many different components of the animal as possible, as Wolf does, to assure you meet your full spectrum of nutritional needs. In your research, you’ll find many more solid tips and guidelines to help assure your success.
The Gut Story
Above we explored the role Wolf played in our transition from a largely plant-based diet to one that is meat-based. A reader of an early version of this post responded with this comment:
“I appreciate this theory on evolution and the diet of hominids. Vegans like to claim we are naturally herbivores or vegetarian-based on our morphology—particularly teeth and hands and long guts that resemble other herbivores. But the acidity in our guts resembles carnivores more. Digesting a 20-banana smoothie just doesn’t feel natural (speaking from experience). Seeing this as an evolution from herbivore primates toward carnivores (but respecting our known history as omnivores) with some herbivore features and some carnivore features makes sense to me—we are evolving toward carnivores but not completely there yet.”
The reader went on with this comment, which is not diet related, yet it is worth noting: “I can see the rekindling of our relationship with Wolf as leading to our rekindling of relationship with all of Nature as well, especially as Wolf—where we let her be—is solving many of the wildlife imbalance problems that we created.”
Now back to the reader’s succulent points on diet that beg further exploration. Let’s begin by looking at the similarities and differences in the Wolf and Human digestive systems. But first, I encourage those of you who haven’t read the previous two posts to do so, as the following will then make more sense.
Both Wolf and Human digestive systems are highly efficient, with Wolves being able to extract up to 90% of the energy from what they eat, and Humans clocking in at up to 95%. Where Wolves can consume 20% of their body weight in one meal, Humans are capable of only 3 to 5%. Here is where the differences in digestion start to show—not in terms of what is consumed, but in how it is consumed and processed
Let’s take a look at the digestive system itself. Large wolves have digestive tracts around 8 feet in length, and large humans have up to 30-foot-long digestive tracts. The radical difference is based on two different evolutionary tracks. Wolves, being apex predators, have to kill and eat fast, due to the highly mobile capabilities of their prey and the competition from other predators for their kills. Humans, on the other hand, can eat in a more relaxed manner when they function as scavengers, and when they consume food they have previously stored.
Humans, then, have the luxury of eating more often, and in lesser amounts, than Wolves. A Wolf consumes up to 20 pounds of meat at a time, which leaves her wanting to do nothing more than lay around for a few hours and let the food digest. Humans, on the other hand, have no trouble with mobility after their relatively smaller meals.
What we have just covered points to the anatomical differences in each species’ digestive system. Starting with the teeth, Wolves have four types: canines, incisors, premolars, and molars. The large, elongated canines are used to grasp and take down prey: the incisors, which lie between the canines, are effective at stripping the bones of meat; the premolars, which rest behind the canines, act as knives, to quickly slice off large chunks of meat, which get immediately swallowed; the molars have the strength to crush nearly all bone, which gets swallowed and digested for its mineral content, and the fat-rich marrow gets consumed as well.
Humans, on the other hand, have no need for highly developed canines, as either Wolves do the killing for them or they use “canine” projectiles in the form of spears and arrows. Neither do Humans need slicing premolars, as they have adapted their opposable-thumb grips to the use of slicing tools. The same is true with molars, as stones work very well for cracking bone.
Now let’s take a look at the digestive process itself. Rather than chewing food, Wolves have an enzyme-rich saliva which begins to break the food down immediately. For at least 400,000 years, which is when the Homo sapiens lineage diverged from other hominids, Humans had fire to help them break down foods and thus make them more easily digestible.
All of the above explains why it takes only 8 hours on average for food to pass through a Wolf’s digestive system, and it takes 24 to 72 hours for Humans. Wolves need fast energy and quick elimination in order to remain mobile and keep up with the herds. Humans, on the other hand, can take their time to process, chew, digest, and eliminate their food, and they can eat more regularly than Wolves, which gives them a consistent energy source and no need to bog themselves down with a large consumption of food, as Wolves do.
Chewing is a critical factor in Human digestion, and it is perhaps the most glaring difference between the way they and Wolves consume food. In the Human brain stem is a region called the swallowing center, which triggers the swallowing reflex when food in the mouth is broken down enough for easy digestion. When Humans try to swallow food before it is adequately broken down, it can trigger the gag reflex, which brings the food right back up for more chewing. Wolves have a much more relaxed gag reflex, which allows them to swallow large chunks of meat quickly and easily.
Early in this post, we talked about the convergent evolution of Wolves and Humans. The digestion story is another beautiful example, where two distinctly different species are consuming the same food, in similar circumstances. Yet they evolved quite dissimilar digestive processes, and still achieved the same results in terms of digestive efficiency and the ability to coexist, often to the mutual benefit of each species.