Fly by Night (47 page)

“Well, good.” He turned his back and walked away.

“You're a fucking asshole,” she yelled. She reached down, made a snowball, and threw it, hitting him square in the back. He didn't flinch.

“No wonder my father left,” she hollered. “You're a jerk and you got what you deserve, asshole.”

At that TJ turned around and came walking at her.

Charlotte quickly separated the two, striding toward her husband and pulling him aside. He pushed away her arm.

“I don't have time for this shit,” TJ said. “That wolf is sitting in a minefield, every second counts.”

Just then there was a yelp of pain and a long mournful howl.

Amelia turned and took off running toward the cry. She lifted her knees and hopped through the snow, her heart pounding as the cry drew her as if it had been Alex calling for her.

“Amelia,” TJ yelled. “Stop. We don't know where the traps are.”

“Amelia,” Bryce yelled.

But she ran like a shot across the field, her legs aching with fatigue as she kept lifting them forward, undaunted by the threat of anything as she ran toward the woods and the sound of the cries.

“What the hell is she doing?” TJ yelled to Bryce as they both followed in her steps, using the pole to poke through the snow on all sides to spring traps.

“She's doing what she always does,” Bryce said with an air of resignation, out of breath as they charged in her footsteps, their pace slowing in the deep snow the farther they went.

“That's fucking crazy.”

“That's your sister.”

*   *   *

She didn't know what she'd do when she found the wolf, but that wasn't important. What was important was that she had to witness, had to comfort, had to sit with, had to offer whatever humble assistance she could.

Through the trees she heard the clank of a heavy chain. As she approached, the gray wolf was caught by the face around the neck. It was lying down on its side, its body emaciated and Amelia could see the outline of its pelvis through the dense fur. Its tail moved so she knew it was alive.

Amelia squatted and went down on her knees. Her chest was heaving from running in the deep snow.

The wolf barely opened its eyes, two shiny slits.

“Oh my God, my God,” she said. “I'm so sorry.” She quickly looked at the apparatus, not having a clue as to how to release it.

She looked up.

A black wolf stood watching—the long knock-kneed stance, thick coal-black ruff of his winter coat. Amelia hadn't noticed him until his yellow eyes met hers. They were the color of Junior and Jethro's.

The snow had been tamped down. It was soaked with blood and the smell of rotting meat.

The black wolf then walked back to lie down next to his mate. With his head on her flank, he nuzzled her. She closed her eyes at his touch.

Amelia turned and called as loud as she could, “TJ,” not thinking they'd just follow her tracks. “I found them. They're here.”

“We're almost there,” he called back.

“They're coming,” she said to the wolves. “They'll help. I promise they will.”

Alongside his mate were offerings of deer meat, only her face and jaw were clamped shut in the trap. The black wolf didn't understand but nevertheless kept bringing fresh food, setting it near her face. The only thing he could do was watch her slowly starve. She emitted high-pitched whimpers with her jaws firmly clamped shut by the snare. She lay ready for death to take her.

TJ, Bryce, and his wildlife staff caught up. The black wolf stood, moving to block access to his mate. His guard hairs rose in a defensive posture until picking up TJ's scent.

“It's okay, buddy,” TJ said and crouched down. “That's B-34, the alpha male. Looks like B-33, his mate, is snared.” He reached out his hand. The black wolf didn't move. “It's okay,” he said in the kindest voice, so kind Amelia didn't recognize it.

The wolf paced, and wouldn't let the men near.

“Go on.” TJ stepped toward him to chase him away. He clapped his hands and moved menacingly toward him. The wolf darted into the trees and stood watching.

“Jimmy,” TJ called to his coworker.

The chain was instantly cut.

“We know this pair,” TJ said. The biologists gathered around. “If her neck's broken, releasing the snare will kill her.”

TJ slid his hands under the wolf's head to brace her neck.

One of his assistants cut through the snare and released the steel claw. The animal was free. The wolf lay there as TJ and the other biologists examined her.

Amelia took off her jacket. She spread it down under the wolf's head.

Charlotte caught up to them with the fluids.

Carefully they lifted the animal's body, supporting her head and face and lay her down on Amelia's coat. She'd done that with a coat once before with an orphan baby seal after its mother had gotten eaten by a walrus on the Labrador coast.

“Jaw's broken,” TJ said as he examined the animal. “Maybe other bones in her face.”

He looked at the other biologists.

“Neck seems okay, though,” TJ said, watching as the gray wolf moved her legs. “Severely dehydrated—that plus the shock of moving her might kill her before we even reach the van.”

Charlotte began to inject fluids under the skin in the wolf's hip. “This'll get her started,” she said to Amelia. “Gotta combat the dehydration, prevent shock if we can.”

“How long's she been here?” Bryce asked.

TJ shrugged. “A few days, maybe a week.” He pulled out his phone and tossed it over to Darrell, his assistant. “Get Evan on the phone. See if his plane's available.”

The animal whimpered in high-pitched sounds when they moved her. Her mate stood near and gave off a pitiful cry. Every hair stood up on Amelia's body. She understood family. She understood love.

Amelia was overcome with distress.

TJ looked around. It was a long hike to the road.

“Here.” Bryce helped lift the wolf by grasping Amelia's coat to raise the animal to lay it down on a canvas stretcher.

TJ and his associate then lifted the stretcher by the poles slipped through on each side, hiking with the hundred-pound animal back toward the road.

“Evan says he'll be at the airfield in twenty minutes,” Darrell called over.

“Excellent,” TJ said. “Call the Twin Cities Vet Hospital; let 'em know we're coming.

“With wild animals,” TJ said to Bryce, “unfortunately the transport alone kills so many of them. Die from shock, fear.”

Amelia looked as blood wetted the lips of the female's mouth.

“Okay,” TJ said. “We're heading toward Charlotte's van.”

“What about him?” Amelia asked. The male looked like a relative of Junior. The wolf looked at her through the trees.

“He'll keep coming back, looking for her,” TJ said as they hiked.

TJ slipped one arm out from his coat, then the other, and tossed it at Amelia with his free arm.

“If this girl makes a full recovery we'll release her here, in this very spot,” TJ said. “He'll wait. He'll find her. If she doesn't make it, he might come back and keep looking. Or he might stop eating and choose to die on this very spot.”

The rest of the crew searched the area with sticks, poking the ground every few feet. A few steel claw traps went off, one after the other. This was an area that had a healthy wolf pack that had been chased off the national forest into reservation areas that were remote, loaded with edible wildlife and few humans.

“Hey, TJ?” one of the volunteers called.

He briefly turned, carrying the female as they approached the van.

“Uh—think we've got a deceased wolf here. Caught in a snare under the snow.”

 

39

It had been forty-eight hours since B-33, or the wolf they'd nicknamed Smiley, had undergone surgery. The name stuck because of how the wolf endured every poke and prod of the hospital staff with patience and goodwill as if understanding that they were trying to help.

The wolf had already been flown to the vet hospital in Minneapolis when TJ got a call from Roy, owner of the Rumline Tavern in downtown Bayfield.

“Got some info for ya, buddy.” He and Roy had gone to high school together, back then Roy's father had run the place. The two had remained friends ever since, despite rumors of him moving drugs into some of the smaller towns.

“Some guy came in shootin' off his mouth about setting traps in Red Cliff, ‘sticking it to the Indians' and all that shit.”

“Really.”

“Thought you'd want to know.”

“You know the guy?” TJ asked.

“Unfortunately I do,” he said and proceeded to give TJ all the details of what he'd heard. “From Hurley. Son of a guy I can't stand. Guy's a veteran and all but still a piece of shit.”

“You talking about who I think you're talking about?”

“Yeah,” Roy said. “That's the one.”

“Says they're sneaking in tonight to check the snares,” Roy said. “Said they set 'em last week before we got them three feet that fell.”

“Thanks, Roy,” TJ said. “I owe you big time.”

“Nah, buddy, you don't owe me nothing. Hate these wolf hunters, give humans a bad name. Let me know if you need help.”

“Will do.”

*   *   *

It took two phone calls to mobilize the enforcement arm of Red Cliff's tribal police, the conservation wardens, plus GLIFWC's team who were cross-deputized with the state of Wisconsin.

The entire area had been set up, thirty armed enforcement officers surrounding the entire territory, hidden in the woods. It had been a warm winter despite the abundance of snow. Wearing white windbreakers over their uniforms to blend into the woods, they staked out and waited.

The information from Roy indicated that the men would be out after dark on the extensive snowmobile trail system, figuring no one would think it unusual if they were to be out at night, tooling around in national forests and on reservation land.

Three hours had passed as all the men sat in silence, radioing each other on occasion if they heard engine sounds. The sky was staying lighter in the evenings and it was just after eight when they heard a group of snowmobiles heading their way.

“You hear that?” TJ said.

Several of the men checked in. “Copy.”

“Let them come directly to the site, dismount, and then look around,” said Terry, the chief enforcement officer at GLIFWC. “Don't want to move too soon. Let them look at the snare, handle it, talk. We've got the night-vision video camera going there to record their conversations and actions. And let them find their way to the deceased wolf under the snow. We need enough evidence on tape to nail these individuals. Let's let them go right to the traps—they know where they set 'em.”

“Copy.” Several of the officers checked in.

“So no one moves until I give the word,” Terry said.

The engine noise was getting closer, men were laughing, making hooting noises that echoed through the trees.

TJ wondered if these were the same men Roy had mentioned. They certainly weren't sneaking up by any stretch of the imagination yet the area was so remote out in this part of the reservation.

Just then there was a hush as the three snowmobiles reached the snare. TJ held his breath. They parked and turned off their engines.

“What the fuck?” One of them picked up the chain that had been cut and showed it to the other two. Another picked up the snare and looked at it.

“I thought you said they couldn't get out.”

“They can't,” the other said and looked around. “Someone sprang it. Fuck.”

They started up their snowmobiles and drove over to the other snare, the one with the buried wolf.

“Looks like we got something here,” he said, pulling on the chain and feeling the frozen fur beneath. “Looks like someone's been here.” He shined his flashlight on the dozens of footprints.

“Probably raccoons,” the other one said. “They ain't bear tracks, that for sure.” He laughed.

“Uhh—I don't think so, Chuck.” The man's voice quivered. “This looks like people tracks.”

Just then all of the headlights from the enforcement officers turned on at once, light flooding the area.

The third man ran to his snowmobile and jumped on. Revving the engine, he took off, chased by a number of enforcement officers.

The other two were handcuffed by the tribal police.

“You have the right to remain silent,” they began and were summarily shoved up the trail toward the road where the tribal police cars were waiting.

“Don't say nothing, Chuck,” the one yelled to the other.

“Good advice,” TJ said. “Too bad we already got you on tape. Wanna see?” He held up an iPad. “Freshly downloaded. Thanks for making it easy.” He hit the play button and the men's voices came streaming out.

Then TJ turned away, mounting his snowmobile as he powered off to aid in the chase for the third man.

 

40

Smiley's jaw had been surgically wired together by the wildlife veterinarian, removing a few bone fragments that might cause trouble for B-33 in the future. Luckily, it had been a clean break and not shattered. Given that the wolf had survived the plane ride despite dehydration and shock, the vet was confident of her recovery. But as to whether or not the jawbone would heal to the point of being strong enough for wild release to join her mate was unknown at that point. It would be Charlotte and TJ's call in the next month or two as they supervised her recovery to assess how well she'd be able to tear meat from a carcass in order to survive.

Charlotte and Amelia drove down to Minneapolis and stayed the first week of the wolf's surgery with Jen in the apartment. Bryce stayed behind with the pups and had picked up a part-time job with the Tribal Fish Hatchery helping to upgrade their filtration system. During the day the two women had practically camped out with Smiley, taking her on brief walks when the anesthesia had worn off. The wolf didn't seem to fight them as Charlotte was skilled with handling wild animals.