SAGOLA, Mich. (AP) – When Brian Roell got word from an aerial surveillance crew that the gray wolf’s radio collar was indicating no movement, he knew what it probably meant.

A few hours later, the wolf program coordinator for Michigan’s Department of Natural Resources was trudging through a swampy backwoods near this township in the Upper Peninsula with another wildlife biologist and a DNR conservation officer. Guided by a hand-held antenna that picked up the radio collar’s rapid beeps, the searchers made their way into a thick black cedar stand. There, in a slight depression, lay the dead wolf on its back, legs jutting skyward.

The 6-year-old male, his neck soaked with blood, appeared to have been dragged to this spot. The wound on the right side of his chest left no doubt about the cause of death: a bullet from a small-caliber rifle.

The wolf was among more than three dozen believed to have been deliberately and illegally killed in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula within the past five years, according to DNR data obtained by The Associated Press under the Freedom of Information Act. Officials in other north central and Rocky Mountain states report scores of wolf shootings despite legal protection for the animal driven to near extinction in many areas.

Some residents of the sprawling, rural Upper Peninsula deeply resent the wolf’s presence. Among them are hunters who believe the wily predators are decimating the whitetail deer herd and farmers who have lost livestock to wolf raids.

“They’re born killers,” said Al Clemens, a hunter from Ironwood who has lobbied state legislators to establish wolf hunting and trapping seasons. “… People are just fed up.”

Yes, wolves eat deer, but not enough to put a serious dent in the total, Roell said.

“Wolves are an easy scapegoat,” he added.

The wolf isn’t universally despised in the region. The DNR says a 2005 survey indicated most residents were willing to peacefully coexist. In fact, tips from citizens have been instrumental in nabbing poachers.

Still, most cases go unsolved, and many illegal kills undoubtedly never come to official attention. “Yoopers,” as Upper Peninsula residents call themselves, even have a catch phrase for dispatching a wolf and hiding the evidence: “Shoot, shovel and shut up.”

If there’s a poster child for the peninsula’s wolf critics, it would be 63-year-old farmer John Koski, whose pickup has a bumper sticker reading, “Michigan Wolves – Smoke a Pack a Day.”

He’s unsure how many cattle he has lost over the past decade. But it’s happened so much that government sharpshooters, concealed in blinds and wearing night-vision goggles, have killed nearly two dozen wolves on his 925-acre spread near Matchwood.

While some residents want all U.P. wolves eradicated, other critics such as Hongisto favor limiting the population with regular hunting and trapping seasons.

Pro-wolf groups oppose that, although some accept the idea of killing wolves that habitually prey on domestic animals. But they contend the problems caused by wolves are exaggerated.

And many in the peninsula are delighted with the wolf’s return.

“They’re a natural and important part of the ecosystem,” said Dean Premo, a fifth-generation resident.

Wolves are known to prowl the forests and pastures near Mavis Farr’s rural home.

“I’m proud to live in a place that’s wild enough to still maintain a wolf population,” Farr said.