History, Myth, and Modern Life in the Wild East of Romania
Let’s get one thing straight from the start — this isn’t a safari story or a tale from the savanna.
We’re talking about the European Golden Jackal, scientifically known as Canis aureus moreoticus.
This is the subspecies found across southeastern Europe, including Romania — and especially in Dobrogea and the Danube Delta.
Some researchers now suggest this jackal is different enough to deserve its own species status: Canis moreoticus. Time (and genetic studies) will tell.
But long before science gave it names in Latin, it already had names in the local language.
In older Romanian records, it was sometimes called “Hilac” — a word that now sounds half-forgotten, but still echoes in some rural dialects.
Even more interesting? Early zoologists and naturalists often confused it with wolves, leading to names like “lupul de stuf” (the Reed Wolf). It makes sense — the golden jackal walks, eats, and sometimes howls a lot like its bigger cousin. Only later did researchers tease apart the differences.
So yes, this animal has worn many names. But all of them point to the same thing: a survivor species that’s been here longer than we’ve realized, quietly shaping the ecosystem in one of Europe’s wildest corners.
Long before trail cameras and conservation reports, the Golden Jackal (Canis aureus) was already making a quiet name for itself in the wilderness of Dobrogea. But it wasn’t always called that.
In old Romanian records, and among the locals of the Danube Delta, it was often referred to as “lupul de stuf” — the Reed Wolf.
A name that says a lot, doesn’t it? Mysterious, elusive, and always hiding in the whispering reeds. The name also hints at its ecological niche: this was not a forest animal or a mountain dweller, but something that belonged to the marshes, the wet thickets, and the sunburnt plains.
The first formal identification of Golden Jackals in the region likely goes back to the 19th century, when zoologists began distinguishing it from wolves and foxes. Unlike its larger cousin the grey wolf (Canis lupus), the jackal’s presence went mostly under the radar — less howling, more sneaking.
Folklore and hunters often confused it with small wolves, especially during its early recolonization waves. But its distinct vocalizations — yelps, cackles, and eerie calls at dusk — began to set it apart. Even so, it remained something of a ghost for decades.
For decades, the Golden Jackal stayed mostly in the shadows of Europe’s ecological records. It was present in the Balkans and southern regions of Romania, but nobody expected what happened next.
Around the early 2000s, jackals began expanding north — quietly, successfully, and fast.
Fast forward to the 2020s, and we now have documented populations across nearly every European country, including:
That’s not just a comeback — it’s a continental colonization. All without reintroduction programs or human help. Just pure adaptability.
In the last few decades, Golden Jackals have been making a serious comeback across Europe, and Dobrogea is now one of their strongholds. The Danube Delta, with its rich mosaic of wetlands, reedbeds, and isolated woodlands, offers perfect cover and hunting grounds.
You’ll find them:
What makes them so successful here? Adaptability. These canids are omnivores with no problem shifting between frogs, rodents, fruit, carrion, and, yes, even garbage.
And with few natural predators (wolves being mostly absent), they’ve settled in nicely.
The real secret behind the jackal’s success? It adapts to anything.
And we mean anything.
Jackals are omnivores with zero fuss:
This flexible diet allows them to survive in:
If food’s around, they’ll find it.
Jackals are also masters of stealth. They don’t dig dens like foxes or wolves unless absolutely needed. Instead, they:
And they move far. Young jackals, especially, disperse over long distances. One study from Central Europe showed a young male moving more than 150 km in less than a month.
They are monogamous, usually living in pairs or small family units with their pups. The adults cooperate to:
When you hear a jackal chorus, it’s often a family pack keeping in contact. That eerie, high-pitched yodel? It’s them doing roll call.
The average visitor to the Danube Delta will probably never see a jackal. They’re shy, mostly nocturnal, and they know how to disappear. But listen carefully on a still summer night, and you might hear their chorus echoing from the reeds.
Locals are well aware of them. In fact, many have mixed feelings.
On one hand, jackals help control rodent populations, clean up carcasses, and play an important scavenger role in the ecosystem. They’re kind of like nature’s little cleanup crew. On the other hand…
This is where the story gets complicated. Jackals, like foxes and sometimes feral dogs, can cause trouble for small-scale farmers and shepherds.
Reports from Dobrogea and Delta margins include:
But — and this is a big but — studies show that jackals are not major livestock predators. Most of their diet consists of small wild animals and carrion. Problems often arise when human practices (like open waste disposal or lack of guarding dogs) create easy access to food.
Some Delta communities have adapted:
The good news? Coexistence is absolutely possible. And when managed well, jackals can be a benefit rather than a burden.
Like many wild animals returning to traditional landscapes, the Golden Jackal is forcing us to rethink our relationship with nature. It’s not about eradication or romanticizing — it’s about balance.
In Dobrogea and the Danube Delta, they are:
And let’s be honest: there’s something thrilling about knowing you’re sharing the land with a secretive, wild canid that once walked the same paths centuries ago.
Rare, but possible! On ILGO tours in the Delta or Dobrogea highlands, we’ve had lucky moments:
Usually, it’s their calls that give them away — and that moment when everyone goes quiet on the boat or minibus and listens? It’s unforgettable.