Alaska Guide Claims He Killed Four Dog Men in Wrangell Country

A photograph that has allegedly been locked away for over two decades has finally surfaced, and it is sending shockwaves through the cryptid community. The image, said to show a deceased dogman taken in the Alaska interior back in 2004, was released through a recording made by Jarvis Okland, a registered big game guide who claims to have been part of a crew that hunted these creatures for a decade. Okland, now 61 and living outside Delta Junction, sat down over six evenings at his kitchen table in the winter of 2026 to tell the full story. The tapes were kept by retired Alaska State Trooper Elwood Pike, who stored his copy in a coffee can with instructions that it only be released after the last member of the crew had passed. Okland is the last one standing. The photograph itself was taken on the night of November 2nd, 2004, near the Chisana airstrip deep in the Wrangell country. Okland and three others stood over a body described as standing seven to eight feet tall, upright even in death, with a wolf's head, long snout, high pointed ears, muscular human-like shoulders and arms, digitigrade hind legs, dark matted fur gone gray at the muzzle, a heavy brow ridge, and flat reflective eyes still open. The weathered gray-brown skin showed through where the fur had worn thin. A young man named Kyle Tenant, just 24 years old, smiled and gave a thumbs up next to the body. He has not been seen since the following morning. What makes this story even more disturbing is that this was not the first. Okland and his crew had allegedly been hunting dogmen for ten years by that point. They had a method, learned from a state wildlife biologist, a retired trooper, a lodge owner on the Dalton Highway, and a mysterious man from Washington who never gave a real first name. They were paid every season in cash in an envelope with a receipt that did not say what it was for. The story begins in the fall of 1994, when Okland was just 29 and scouting a moose drainage west of Wiseman with his brother-in-law Lel Tenant. They found a gut pile that had been opened cleanly along the belly, organs stacked neatly on a flat rock like a butcher setting out a counter. Thirty yards uphill, they discovered a pyramid of seventeen cleaned wolf skulls, sorted by size, the largest at the base and the smallest at the top. Beside the pile, a print pressed into frozen mud, too long for a wolf and too narrow for a bear, with the heel sitting high as if whatever made it walked on its toes. That night, Okland's dog, a big lab mix named Bishop, slept under the truck. By morning, Bishop was gone. They found him at the skull stack, opened the same way the moose had been, laid on top of the pyramid with his head turned toward the camp. Okland says the dog was still warm. Among the seventeen wolf skulls, one had a steel tag still bolted through where its ear had been. Two winters later, Okland took that tag to Ardith Penhalo, a wildlife biologist with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game working out of the Healy office near Denali. She had been tracking wolves by radio collar for nineteen years. The tag belonged to a wolf she had collared in the spring of 1991, recorded as dead eleven months later. The collar had been recovered, but the tag should never have come off the animal's ear. Penhalo showed Okland a map marked with forty-one red pins, each one representing a collar that had gone into mortality mode and was later found hanging from spruce branches in the middle of nowhere. The straps were unbroken, the batteries were fine, and the collars had been unbuckled, not chewed, hung at a height of about seven feet at the same angle on every tree, like coats on hooks. No carcass, no blood, no sign of a kill. Nine of those pins had gone off within the same four-hour window on a single night in January 1995, ninety miles apart, as if nine separate wolf packs had been taken in a single sweep. The pins made a pattern. They moved in a slow, long, looping line from the Brooks Range south, tightening every winter. The most recent pin was a collar found in December, hung on a tree thirty meters from Delta Junction. The next place that line would pass was the property where Okland had lived since he was a boy. By 1997, Okland had Penhalo's map folded in his glove box. He and Lel drove north in a blizzard to a small lodge in Wiseman owned by Birdie Kellerman, a sixty-year-old Dalton Highway fixture who had been renting rooms to truckers and pipeline crews since the seventies. She kept a notebook, twenty-six years of odd things guests had told her. Wolves sitting in rows at the edge of the lodge lot, facing the cabins. Guests waking at three in the morning with a feeling of being counted. Trucks found with their tailgates opened and nothing taken. Trooper Elwood Pike, assigned to the corridor that winter, ate dinner at her lodge on Fridays. He agreed to sit up with Okland and Lel on the front porch that night because he said he had a feeling about the weather. At one in the morning, fourteen wolves came out of the spruce on the far side of the plowed lot and sat down in a line. They did not look at the three men on the porch. They looked at the tree line behind them. The temperature was twenty-two below zero and the animals did not shiver. Then something stood up behind the wolves. It had been sitting among them, the way a shepherd sits with its flock. When it unfolded, it stood over seven to eight feet tall, upright and bipedal, with a wolf's head, long snout, high-pointed ears, muscular human-like shoulders and arms, digitigrade hind legs, dark matted fur frosted white at the tips, a heavy brow ridge, and flat reflective eyes that took the porch light and threw it back as two pale coins. This is the kind of firsthand testimony that rarely makes it out of Alaska. The full recording, including Okland's account of how the crew learned to find these creatures and what happened to Kyle Tenant, is available on the Trail Stories YouTube channel. It is a long one, but every minute is worth it for anyone who takes the cryptid question seriously. The photograph alone, if authentic, would be one of the most significant pieces of evidence ever released to the public. Go watch it and decide for yourself.