it’s a lot bigger than it looks on the outside,” she commented as she looked around.
“So sit and make yourself comfortable. You can have the seat of honor. You want wine, beer, soda?”
“Nothing, really, but thanks.” His “seat of honor” was the only chair, a tweedy recliner in gray hues. A long couch matched it. Both were his size—heck, she could have curled up and slept in the chair—and the small living area overlooked the kitchen ell. The bar-style table was ivory colored, the charcoal-shaded carpeting cushion-thick. A short hallway of closets led to a shadowed bedroom—where he’d tossed her jacket—and she saw the tucked end of a Hudson Bay blanket in the wedge of light.
The trailer wasn’t big enough for a party, but there was ample room for him to move around. It was hard for two to maneuver, though. She slipped off her boots and dropped in the chair when she saw she was going to be in his way. He opened and closed cupboards, taking out plates, silverware, napkins. His TV was on, tuned to the news, but without sound. He kept up an easy conversation.
“I have a place in Wyoming. A little house, on a spread of land by a creek. That’s where I grew up, out West, but I’ve had the trailer for years. Sometimes I’m gone months at a time with my work, and I’d go nuts trying to live in motels and finding rental places. This way I can have my own stuff with me.”
“So...you go wherever the wolves are?”
“Not always wolves. But they’re my love, and I seemed to have ended up specializing in them whether I planned it or not. I worked for the EPA for a while, then hooked up with the National Park Service. For this project I’ve been loaned out to the state of Michigan—their DNR, Department of Natural Resources. Never seems to matter who’s signing my paychecks, I end up doing the same thing. There just aren’t a lot of people who get real excited about tackling a wounded wolf, or moving a pack of ‘em. Maybe it’s like a doc who overspecialized. There’s nobody else who does the job—or really wants the job—so I’m the stuckee.”
“You’ve traveled all over?”
“From Mexico to Alaska,” he confirmed. “The red wolf, gray wolf, Mexican wolf—they’re all threatened. Only three places on the planet where they’re not, though lots of people are sympathetic to the cause. The UP here has really worked at it—set up a Michigan Wolf Recovery Team, and backed that up with good laws and stiff penalties for killing wolves. But the bottom line is that when a wolf’s causing trouble, the easiest solution is to shoot him—or trap and put him in captivity, out of harm’s way. Nobody’s to blame for that. A problem wolf, wild, part of his pack, in his own environment...he doesn’t make it real easy to help him. It’s just a lot easier for someone who knows the species to take the ball.”
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