The Healer (20 page)

To Billy's disappointment and surprise, the pups never got to trust him and were always wilder than Blackie or even Wolf. At the first sight of him, they would tumble into the den, jostling each other in their panic. Luckily, they couldn't use their noses intelligently as yet, so unless they saw him, they did not know that he was about. On the other hand, Wolf, and to a lesser extent Blackie, depended more on their noses than their eyes. Wolf would shift his lookout spot, depending on how the wind was blowing, so it was almost impossible for Billy to approach the den without the coyote's knowing it.

Billy was there the day when Wolf brought in a live meadow mouse which he dropped by the pups, knocking the little creature back with catlike blows of his forepaws when it tried to escape. This was the first live prey Billy had seen Wolf bring in and he expected the pups to tear their little victim to bits immediately. The pups were fascinated but actually seemed afraid of the tiny mouse. As they crept up to sniff at it, the mouse reared up on its hind legs to make itself look larger, giving out a constant shrill cluttering sound. Not even the bravest of the pups dared to come to grips with the determined little warrior and Billy hoped the plucky mouse would escape. He nearly went to its rescue for it seemed unfair that after beating off the whole litter, its fight would do no good. But before he could interfere, Wolf killed the mouse with a quick nip. Only then would the pups tackle it.

Wolf continued to bring in mice, now so badly crippled that the pups plucked up enough courage to kill them. Billy decided that these pups would never make good hunters, yet, Wolf did not seem discouraged. From mice, he progressed to rabbits, then woodchucks and muskrats. Gradually the pups learned the typical coyote slashing attack—leaping in to rip with their canines like a man slicing with a knife—and only closing in with the neck grip after the quarry was disabled. Their fangs were not nearly as long as their father's, and their other teeth acted mainly as shears to cut up the meat for eating; to do this they had to turn their heads sideways to bring the back teeth into play. Even so, they were dog enough to have more powerful jaws than Wolf, and they relied on taking their hold and hanging on until their prey wore itself out with its own struggles. This technique did them good in pack work, when the whole litter would hurl themselves on some unhappy victim.

Although Billy knew that it was their nature to behave as they did, he hated to see them practice their grips on still living prey. It was hard for him to understand how these fierce little killers, who obviously enjoyed their victims' futile struggles, could also be the cute, playful little pups who cased each other around the den, wrestled together, and sat with their tongues hanging out and their heads cocked on one side, as though posing for the cover of a magazine over the title "Little Adorables."

Above everything, the pups liked to play with their father. The short-haired Blackie could take only so much of this roughhousing, but Wolf accepted what looked like painful bites. He seemed to take pride in the pups' growing powers and never snarled or growled at them, which was more than could be said of Blackie. Instead, he would stand with his lips pulled back and the ends turned up as though he were smiling, simply holding his head up and laying his ears back to keep them out of the pups' way. When he had had enough, he would walk away, often with a couple of pups hanging onto his brush, growling their most formidable growls until they let go. But on other matters he was firm and so quick to punish that not even the nimblest of the females could avoid his slash. The pups had to know and instantly obey his danger call—a prolonged, quavering squall. No matter where they might be when they heard it, they were to run for the den. It took them some time to learn this signal, for their mother's danger warning was a deep rumble in her throat. But learn it they did, at the cost of some pain and bewilderment.

Wolf never struck at Blackie. Abe Zook had told the boy that male dogs showed no interest in their offspring or in females once the mating season was over, but the boy became convinced that Wolf had a deep affection for both the pups and Blackie, and Blackie loved her mate. When Wolf returned from a hunting trip, Blackie would run toward him, crouch before the coyote, and then put her forelegs around his neck. When Wolf went over to inspect the pups, Blackie would walk with him, pressing against his side. If Wolf was a long time absent, Blackie would become restless and circle the den, sniffing the breeze in hopes of catching his scent.

When the pups had lost their baby wool and had grown steady on their long legs, Wolf took them hunting. In spite of his best efforts, Billy was able to keep the family in sight only once. Then he saw Wolf teaching the pups how to go mouse hunting. Mice were small, but there were a lot of them and they were easy to catch. Billy suspected that mice were Wolf's main meat supply, at least in summer.

Wolf left the pups with Blackie while he walked daintily into the tall meadow grass. One of the pups tried to follow but one growl from Wolf sent him scampering back. Wolf walked stiff-legged through the grass, putting down one foot at a time and only gradually letting down his weight. Sometimes he would stop with one foot in the air, listening. If he heard the rustle of a mouse he would stop with all four feet slightly together, nose pointed at the spot, ears cocked and body swaying. Then he would suddenly give a tremendous spring, sometimes covering fifteen feet, and come down with both forefeet clamped down on the spot. Instantly his long muzzle would shoot forward, and he would give a series of quick nips at random in the grass. If the mouse held still, Wolf would burrow with his thin nose, sniffing loudly until he located the little creature. Often he would toss the mouse high in the air and let it fall. This was the signal for the pups to come rushing in to finish the job. Encouraged by their father's success, the pups would try the system and it was comical to see their clumsy efforts. Watching them, Billy felt that it would be months before the pups could shift for themselves, and all during this period they would be dependent on Wolf and Blackie for food. Billy knew that not infrequently Wolf and Blackie were hard put to find food for themselves. Blackie, especially, was growing thin and once when Billy brought her half a loaf of bread and the dog snatched it eagerly, Billy was annoyed to see the pups rush up and take it away from her. They even took food from Wolf, although several times Billy was sure that the coyote was half-famished himself, and it required an effort of will for him to allow the robbery. In his affection for Wolf and Blackie, Billy grew angry with the pups, especially when sometimes they would not eat the food but only play with it. To Billy, it seemed selfish of the young coydogs to regard their parents simply as a constant source of food, without worrying about the older animals' problems.

For a long time Billy had seen no sign of the game warden and had decided that the man had given up the hunt. Then one evening Abe Zook took Billy frogging in the swamp.

"I am remembering the time when a man could make seventy-five, maybe one hundred dollars frogging," Abe Zook told the boy, as they headed toward the swamp with two long, thin frog spears, a lantern, and two burlap sacks. In addition, Zook was carrying a pair of hip boots. "Now that is all gone."

"Don't people want frogs anymore?"

"It is not that, all I am getting I can sell. There are not so many frogs. The swamps are being drained and with the water goes the frogs. Once many times you were getting frogs weighing a pound or more. That is seldom now."

"Do you ever eat frogs' legs yourself?"

"Once I ate many. They are part way between fish and chicken. Now, I get paid so much I cannot afford to eat them. Not only restaurants want them, but also colleges. Students cut them up to see what is in them. Why they are wanting to know that, I cannot tell."

The sweet, hot scent of the marsh came to them even before they could see it. The black water reflected the stars except where the clumps of water lilies broke the dancing images. Everywhere was the hum of insects, and Billy resigned himself to being badly bitten by the mosquitoes that moaned around him. They could hear the deep bass of the bullfrogs, as well as the shriller notes of the pickerel frogs. Billy stood slapping mosquitoes until Abe Zook had pulled on his boots. Billy took off his shoes and trousers and waded into the inky water.

They moved slowly and as quietly as they could, Abe Zook holding the lantern. Occasionally they would hear a frightened croak followed by a splash, but Billy was quite sure that these were only small grass frogs they didn't want anyhow. Ahead came the profound "jug-o'-run" of a bullfrog, and as they moved toward the sound, the light picked up the white throat of a big frog sitting on the bank.

"The lantern hold," whispered Abe Zook. Billy took the lantern and saw the tip of the frog spear move into the fan of light. Zook advanced it slowly toward the frog, who seemed dazed by the glare. Then he struck. There was a convulsive kicking and the frog went into the bag.

"There is another over there. Listen once!" said Zook. Again they moved toward the sound, Billy slipping on the slimy stones and sinking into the mud. Before they could reach the frog, there came the wail of a siren.

"What is that for now?" said Zook angrily. The siren came closer. Now they could see the lights of a car moving along the road.

"It's the warden. Can he arrest us?" asked Billy preparing to douse the lantern.

"We are doing nothing. That Jim Stoltzfoos has a foolishness. What is he about?"

They continued to listen. Then in answer to the siren came the wailing not only of Wolf but also the coypups. They must have been in a little valley, for the sound reverberated back and forth from the sides, making it impossible to tell exactly where the animals were. But that they were there was certain.

"He has found them," said Abe Zook.

Billy did not answer. He knew that this was the end of Blackie, Wolf, and their family. The warden would not be put off again.

When they got home that night and put the evening's catch in the springhouse, Abe Zook said to the boy, "You are thinking that I do not know how you are feeling, yet I do. You are not liking people, nor do I. We both are feeling more for animals. Animals are nicer than people, not making such demands on you. Yet with people we have to live. I am an old man and when I was growing up, things were making different. I could live alone with my animals. That is no longer possible. You will have to live with people."

"No, I won't," said Billy sullenly. "I'm going to get a house like yours and live 'way off in the country where there aren't any people."

"You think so now, but later it will be different. You are seeing the end of wildcrafting, when a man could live off the country. It is almost dead. When it goes, something wonderful will go with it. But the world is changing."

"You mean there won't be any more animals?"

"That I did not say, but it will be different. You will have to learn the new ways and cannot dream as you do now—yes, as I have always done. It is hard to break away from the comfort of dreams, yet it must be done."

"And let Wolf and Blackie and the pups be killed by that game warden?"

Abe Zook did not answer for a while. Then he said, "You will see what I mean. I wish I could spare you some of the pain, yet it seems each must learn for himself."

They said no more, but it was a long time before Billy could get to sleep that night.

Wolf and his family seldom used the den now. They spent most of their time lying-up in the woods. The warden was still looking for them, for Billy often saw the man with his rifle, walking slowly along Wolf's paths, stopping occasionally to bend over and check for signs. Wolf generally followed a fixed route, going from familiar object to familiar object because of his comparatively short sight. He always crossed a road or a stream at the same spot and when running a ridge, kept to one side of it, but near enough to the crest so he could look over now and then. Billy knew Wolf's paths almost as well as the coyote did, and he unhappily realized that the warden was getting to know them too.

One morning after a thunderstorm, Billy was following the course of a stream that came from a spring on the side of the ridge. During a rain, garnets and bits of petrified wood were often washed off the slope where the stream had cut deep into the hillside. With a little polishing, Zook could sell these to souvenir shops that catered to the tourist trade. Occasionally the boy would find fossil shells or pieces of shale with the imprint of prehistoric leaves on them, and these were especially valuable. From his position on the hill, Billy could see the road far below him. On this morning, he saw a cloud of dust that blew like smoke from the road, marking the passing of a car. Billy straightened up to watch it and recognized the warden's jeep.

The jeep came to a stop and Jim Stoltzfoos got out. He had no gun and to Billy's surprise he came up the hill, following the course of the stream. Billy considered hiding, but he was doing nothing illegal so he continued to look for specimens while waiting for the man to reach him.

The warden took much longer to climb the slope than Billy expected and when he finally appeared, he smiled cheerfully and said, "Hi, son, Abe Zook said you'd be here. I picked up some garnets for you. A couple of them are pretty near gem stones."

He held out a handful of the dull, reddish stones. "Well, thanks," said Billy, uncertain how to behave. He put the stones in his pocket and keep on looking.

Jim Stoltzfoos sat down on a rock and watched him. After a few moments the man said, "Billy, I've found the den."

Billy felt sick, but he tried to show no reaction. All he said was, "Well?"

"Yes, it's down by the swamp." Billy had a quick surge of relief. "It's by the big sycamore there in an old fox earth. I'm telling you this so you'll know I really have found it."

Billy knew the place that the warden meant, but Wolf's den under the beech roots was high up on the same ridge where they were standing. He asked, "How do you know it's the right den?"