You are certainly entitled to your opinion todd, but for some arrogant douchebag to simpfly the reasons I hunt down to simply"killin schit" or "proving my manhood" really pisses me off and is completely inline with your "my way or the highway" attitude in life.
Some would certainly consider dragging an endangered species through the water by a barbed trebble hook burried deep in it's mouth simply for sport to be an act of depraved selfishness as well.

I have many times reflected my reasons for hunting.

I have compassion.

20 minutes ago I filleted a hen King Salmon.
I remember feeling remorse as I popped her gills in the river and watched the life drain from her body in a red bloody cloud.
As I removed the skeins of eggs from her belly I felt some angst as I wondered how many of those eggs would have matured to fruition as beautiful Kings that would have returned to my most precious river.

As a young boy I was in complete awe of the creatures that I share this world with.
I would walk into a local sporting goods store and simply stare in awe at the magnificent trophies mounted on the walls.
Nothing mankind has ever created can compare with the beauty that I find in nature.
From the majestic rack of a rutting six point bull elk, to the imposing power of the mighty Grizzly, to the sleek beauty of a chrome bright steelhead, I have immersed myself in the artwork of Mother Nature all of my life.

Selfishly taking the lives of these creatures then trying to rationalize that nearly sinful act is a paradox that I continue to wrestle with to this day.
I simply cannot convey in words the reasons i bear to kill beautiful animals that aren't generally classified as food.
Human greed and a desire to bring them into my life might be a twisted rationale that I use .
The dead creatures that surround me in my trophy room are finer axamples of art than any Van Gough or Picasso in the Louv're.
I don't have many people over to my house, but preserve that incredible beauty just for me.
Human selfishness I suppose.

This year was the first year since the 1980's that I didn't kill a local Blacktail deer.
Yes, I had multiple opportunities at legal bucks at close range with both rifle and bow.
My son killed two bucks, our freezer is full of meat and I really had no desire to kill another animal.
Had an exceptional example of the species given me the opportunity, I'd have taken him and been proud to do so, conquering a wily, overly mature specimen gives me deep feelings of satisfaction knowing that you outwitted a creature with senses hundreds of times greater that those of man .

Often I feel that Man is the cancer of this planet, that the beautiful and innocent creatures that I pursue are much more worthy inhabitants of this incredible thing we call Earth.
I hunted with a bow on the last day of rifle season, a fine looking 18" 3x2 gave me a perfect broadside shot at 18 yards and I had him at full draw, only to let him walk.
I felt contentment knowing that I had decided life over death.
Weird huh?

On topic, No. I don't hate Wolves.
Maybe just the oposite, I have a such deep rooted passion for all things wild.
I want to run my fingers through their sleek fur, smell their punget smell, hear them howl that deep bellowing howl that echoes through the mountains on a crisp full moon night.

Few things on this planet match the love I have for my dog.
It has an intelligence, it has emotions, it feels pain and stress and companionship.
I'd be a fool to think that a Wolf didn't share those same feelings and basic animal instincts, after all a dog is a wolf.
Yet I understand the violent nature of a Wolf's world, they kill rivals, they kill to survive, and they are intelligent and they are apex predators and I compete with them as a hunter of hooved animals.
It is man that I dislike most in this world, yet I am one.
It is wildlife that I love beyond description, yet I kill.
This paradox, this conflict, this wrestling with emotions I cannot define in words though I've tried so many times.