Consequences Read Free Page B

My instincts told me he was a
good person, lost and troubled, but ultimately good and he needed
help. I wish I had ignored my instincts and left the kid alone.
    Through the strain of my last few pull-ups, I
can’t help but reprimand myself for always having to ask “why” and
cockily stating “prove it”. In law enforcement classes, we learn
that we aren’t supposed to care why a guy beat his wife, just prove
that he did it and get on with life. Leave the 'whys' to the court
system. Here, as a game warden, I can get away with searching for
answers to 'why'. In Montana there are so many extenuating
circumstances that sometimes I have to understand the details, and
use discretion in order to build foundations of respect. We have to
form productive relationships with the hunters and local community;
it’s the difference between one man watching over hundreds of
miles, or hundreds of conscientious people banded together, taking
care of each other and our resources.
    About five weeks after Christopher moved into
the cabin, I tracked yet another blood trail on to his property. I
knew that I had a poacher in the area, and I had to catch him. This
particular hunter wasn’t after trophies though, he was after meat.
I knew ahead of time that I wasn’t looking for a sportsman, just a
guy trying to survive. But I have a job to do, and that means that
I can’t allow hunting without the proper tags, and absolutely not
during the off season. When I caught him in the act outside
Christopher's cabin, he came out to see what the problem was … then
the strangest thing happened.
    Christopher cocked his head and stared into
the hunter’s eyes, and then started talking to no one, “Did you
know he has a family? They haven’t been able to afford groceries
for about three months now. His kids have all lost weight; he’s
afraid they’re wasting away. The cow elk he killed last month … he
kept some of the meat, but traded the rest for produce and propane.
He’s afraid that they’ll run out again during the next big storm,
and die in their home … alone, cold and hungry.”
    The hunter and I looked at Christopher like
he’d just stepped off the moon. Quickly regaining my thoughts, I
turned and looked into the guy’s eyes for myself … he was crying,
standing open-mouthed, staring at Christopher, tears rolling down
his astonished face. “It’s true. Everything he just said is true. I
haven’t even told my wife about my fears riding on the coming
storm.”
    “If this is true …why didn’t you talk to
someone about your situation? We have resources through the local
food bank. I’ve delivered game there myself, to be distributed to
families in need. Don’t you think that is a better way to feed your
family? Your kids don’t need their father to be put in jail, on top
of dealing with starvation.” People’s pride always blows my mind,
how hard is it to ask for help?
    Christopher squinted at me like he was making
up his mind on something. Then nodding he forced his scrutiny back
on the hunter. “I’d listen to the warden, sir … he’ll make sure you
and your family find the help you need.” With that ending remark,
he turned and walked back into the cabin like nothing unusual had
passed between us.
    Not sure what to make of what had happened; I
went back to business as usual. The hunter didn’t put up a fight,
and we had his paperwork done in no time. We waved the fines with a
warning that if we caught him again, we could take everything he
used during the illegal hunt, including his guns and vehicle. Then
I personally drove him over to the food bank and helped him get
signed up with the appropriate programs, and then put him in touch
with separate public welfare groups that would help with his
family’s other needs.
    I still check on him and his family; smiling,
I can picture the kids putting weight back on, a healthy glow
returning to their smiling faces.
    Christopher got under my skin from the
beginning, but