Travel to Russia, on the trail of wolves in Belarus

Deep in the vast, enchanting forest, visitors track endangered wolves with a zoologist passionate about their survival. It is in Russia that these animals are found.

Dawn in Naliboki Forest, Russia: Mist over the swamps and bats gliding on birch trees. Above the clearing, the stars are fading into a pale sky. We are deep in God knows where in one of the biggest wild forests in Europe. Zoologist Vadim Sidorovich crouches in the dim light studying the track; I barely breathe, the silence is so intense. A brown bear, says Vadim. He traces a finger over the prints of his front paws and – two ovals – his back paws. I can see the claw marks. A dozen bears roam this part of the forest.

But we're not really here for bears: 30 minutes later, we're looking at a meadow haloed in golden light, with deer grazing in the tall grass. This is wolf territory. The 2 square kilometers of Naliboki in central Belarus also have one of the highest densities of lynx, elk, bison, storks and eagles in the world. The tour explorer's new long weekend to Belarus, however, is all about wolves.

After a day in the capital, Minsk, visitors spend two nights with Vadim and his family – research assistant wife Irina, their children and their dogs, a mixed-breed wolf – at a forest eco-station. It looks like a fairytale lumberjack's house, with handcrafted terracotta tableware and furniture made from pine trunks. WiFi? Even mobile reception is sketchy. “I like peasant life,” says Vadim. “The people in this forest two centuries ago were happier than a billionaire.”

A former university professor, Vadim left academia 15 years ago to research at Naliboki. (His blog, Zoology by Vadim Sidorovich , it's interesting if niche reading.) Wolves are his specialty. Around 40 migrate to the forest from the end of September to breed, quadrupling that number by the end of January. Shy, nocturnal and fast-moving, wolves make elusive subjects – part of their allure, I guess. For Vadim, “seeing one is God’s gift.”

That afternoon we entered the mossy forest. As we look at the abandoned dens, Vadim talks about wolves as if they were old friends: why a mother rotates cubs between 30 or more dens; how most of the cubs are killed by the lynx, which sees wolves as competitors; that pack members take turns cub-sitting.

We're on our way to your motion-activated cameras. Vadim is waiting for footage of a wolf and her cubs that he is tracking – every year fewer wolves breed here. I'm hoping to end up with bone-chilling discomfort. Shockingly, yet supernaturally, the forest closed in around us.

In Western Europe, huge and dense forests come full of Little Red Riding Hood or Hansel and Gretel, like horror, you enter at your own risk. In Belarus, they see forests differently: Naliboki is a pantry stocked with fruits and mushrooms. It is also a refuge, where supporters of the Second World War hid when Belarus was crushed between Russian and German troops.

It's still a refuge, really. Vadim says: “For me, the forest is like a home for a child. It's a warm feeling. Here, you forget the authorities. You live as the grass grows. By the end of my stay I'm not sure who needs Naliboki more – the wildlife or him.

After two hours, we arrived at the cameras. Images show a bear crossing a stream, a lynx on a fallen log, a moose and her calf, a truffle boar and finally a silvery brown wolf, trotting away. But not puppies. Vadim is worried that the forest can no longer support cubs. On successive jeep safaris, we see grouse, foxes, deer, cranes and white storks and all types of birds of prey. Vadim points to a tree scratched by wolf claws. But puppies? No Sinal.

On our last night, Vadim takes me beside a marshy canal. You can tell the bison are close: grass where they rolled appears to have been torn up; the trees are tufted with black hair where they scratched. There is a warm, musky animal smell. As we turn a corner, there's a clatter of hooves and snapping of branches as something large disappears. It stops. Between the trees, I see two bison staring at us. It's magical, like something from a dream or a myth.

A bit like Naliboki himself, actually. Back in Minsk, it seems implausible that such a distinct world exists. If this trip has one problem, it's that it's a wolf-watching holiday. Fail to see one and you may leave disappointed. However, Naliboki is a place of transformation. Outside, in God-knows-where-free-mobile, the days swell and silent, snowy nights excite. Staying for a while is realizing that life's breaks are as enriching as its adventures.

There is an email waiting for me in Minsk. It’s from Vadim – a photo from that motion camera. I click it open. In a pretty birch clearing, there are two wolves – and around them a litter of 10 kittens.