The truck’s front all-terrain tires hit the concrete curb stop. He shut it down, stepped out and carried in the bloody bundle of blankets. Carried it gently. She met him at the door and took the bundle, a Rough-legged Hawk shot through the wing. With her foot she pushed open the door to the back area of the wildlife animal hospital, and she was gone.
Back out in the cold rain, he shut the truck door and realized how much blood had spilled on the seat and the carpet, a streak of deep crimson from when the truck sank into a sippie hole, and the frightened hawk tried to get free.
Thomas lowered into one of the chairs upholstered the same color as that pale gray that soaked through the window. He thought of the things he’d have to do the next day: check the traps by Glenn Road and call Williams to give him some of the numbers. Even Ryan Williams, the lead attorney for Protect Our Wild Lands, admitted the outcome looked grim now. It was a long shot because the law was amended under the previous administration to allow the leasing of park-land for drilling, but appeal cases like this are long and drawn out—and you don’t know the outcome until the very end. It’s all up the Judge. Maybe what made it seem hopeless now to Thomas was the crew already out surveying the land and putting down more test drills, those boys from Coyle Brothers Construction driving through Devil’s Den in their diesel pickups like they owned this land. CBC was the company contracted to go ahead with further test drilling and begin to clear land, on behalf of the big oil company. Shortly after the government OK’d the leasing of national parks land for drilling, the oilmen’s geological surveys found what they think is a deep reserve of crude oil about fifteen hundred feet under the rich soil.
Williams would be making his case for an immediate injunction against the drilling, and there wasn’t anyone else Thomas would want to take up the fight. He knew Williams wasn’t going to go down easy on this one.
This was what he was thinking about when Kelly came out with a calm look on her face. She walked up to him with blood on her baby-blue shirt.
“You don’t have to wait.”
“I just wanted—
“It’s going to take a while. She’s going to need surgery. Wing is broken, and she lost a lot of blood. We’re waiting for the anesthesia to take effect. Any longer and the broken wing bone would have calcified, she wouldn’t have had a chance to heal correctly.”
He nodded.
“You did good, Thomas.”
“It’s my job.”
“I know. Go home. I’ll call you.” She spoke softly.
Getting up from the seat, he watched her walk away.
Tiredness took over as he drove home, letting the truck drift along at thirty on the narrow park road. The rain let up. It had been raining off-and-on for the past three days.
When he pulled up to his place, Japhy greeted him at the door. Thomas pet through the mutt’s thick fur, the dog leaning into him, thumping his tail against Thomas’ leg. After making sure he gave his master a proper welcome, the dog ran outside, zig zagging through the grass in front of the cabin where they lived—two main rooms: the small kitchen with pots and pans hanging neatly above the wood stove, the main room with a fireplace, mustard yellow couch and shelves of books, plus the tiny loft and bathroom.
A few weeks passed, and it was one of those early spring days that reminded him of when he first came out to the National Forest years earlier. He had come to camp, and before packing up and heading back east, he saw the sign posted for seasonal work in the Forest. After nine years out here, he was still awe-stricken by those early spring days. The clean morning air poured into the truck’s open windows. Friends back home always asked how he lasted through winter. On the coldest days when he felt the cold in his bones, he made sure the furnace was stoked and he thought of this clean spring air that would come.
The intern told him Kelly was around back. As he walked up, he watched her standing below the hawk flying a tight circle, constrained by the pen. He watched her study the bird’s flight. No, she was not studying. She was admiring, watching each movement. With the hawk’s wings spread into that clean morning air, the bird was larger than Thomas thought.
She saw Thomas, standing quietly with his hat low, and signaled him to come over as the bird landed on a big stump in the middle of the pen. Thomas walked slowly, and the big hawk watched his every step.
“Can you believe this is the same girl you brought to me a week ago wrapped in blankets?”
“She’s healed well.”
“Partially healed. The surgery went well, and her wing started to heal already. But I don’t know if she will ever be able to fly the way she used to. Her wing is drooping lower than the other one. When the wings are not symmetrical it throws off their flight.”
Thomas realized how wonderful her voice was. He could just stand there and listen to it for a long time. The Hawk called out a drawn-out kaaaaaar.
“Do you think you’ll be able to release her?”
“This is her physical therapy. She has to a lot stronger to get.”
Perched on the stump, the hawk stared past the fencing to a squirrel in the grass. Her wings had white specks, and the base of her tail was all white, meaning she was a young adult, Kelly explained. Older females grow all dark brown, expect for a few white feather streaks.
Thomas was holding his hat in his hands now and felt the sun getting stronger.
“Some kids mountain biking two days ago came up on a killed mountain lion, his head severed above the shoulders,” he said. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that, so matter-of-fact, but it did.
“No. Who would do that?”
“Poachers. I think it might be the same guys, Kel. The bikers saw a jacked-up Expedition SUV speeding off in a cloud of dirt.”
“Is there anyway to find out who did it?”
He put his hat on, looked down at a single yellow flower breaking through the ground.
“It’s a long shot.”
“Thomas, be careful.” |
