Torn

The boat I wish we could provide for our seasonal officers

Our state hires "seasonal" officers. These are usually college age people (usually guys) who are hired to patrol the water and the various atv parks throughout the state. I am the direct supervisor of three seasonals- two water and one atv.

Here is the thing...we give them a canister of OC, handcuffs, and a radio (that may or may not work) and send them on their way to perform law enforcement duties. Is it just me, or does this seem like a tiny liability? Therefore, I find myself becoming a mother hen to these boys. I worry about them. I bake them cookies. I call in to check on them. I insist they call me if they run into any problems, and I require that they work together on the water, especially at night.

Tonight I was sitting out in the yard watching my kids play when I got a call from one of my seasonals. He was alone (the other officer was at a funeral today), and had someone stopped on the water. When he ran the boat operator's driver's license through state radio dispatch, he found out that the guy who had a warrant for his arrest. My officer was understandably a wee bit nervous. He had no clue what to do. I told him to call the communication center and find out what the warrant was for, where the warrant was out of, and whether the person had a history of violence.

He called me back about two minutes later and said that his guy had a history of assaulting peace officers. Just when I tried to respond, I him begin talking to someone else in the background. Then he began yelling. Then the line went dead.

I leapt from my lawn chair, ran into the house, grabbed my vest, my gunbelt, and my radio and headed for my truck.

And then comes the part where it is hard to be a  mom and a law enforcement officer...Chatterbox began wailing. Here was mommy sitting in the lawn watching her play one minute, and the next I'm running in a panic for my truck. She followed me in the house bawling, and screaming that she wanted to give me a hug and a kiss. Of course, I snap at her and tell her that "MOMMY HAS TO GO! RIGHT NOW!"

But Chatterbox didn't give up. She insists on a hug, a kiss, and a butterfly kiss, and a "don't let the bedbugs bite etc etc etc." I tried my best to give her a hug on the run. But it broke my heart to leave her there with tear stained cheeks and confused. Normally when I leave for work I take the time to let her go through her routine. If I don't come home, I want her to know that the last thing she did was kiss me and tell me that she loves me. But all I could think about was my boy, alone and in trouble.

I took off down my street with my sirens blaring. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw my sweet four year old daughter standing on the sidewalk. Crying and waving. I knew that she was probably crying because I didn't wave back. Her normal goodbye routine was shattered.

Luckily, my seasonal officer is ok. A couple county deputies and a Corps of Engineers Ranger arrived before me and took the wanted person into custody.

My officer went home in one piece. And my daughter is asleep in bed. And I still feel bad.

It's a Keeper

It was scorching hot this morning, so I decided to stay in the air-conditioned truck as much as possible. Luckily I have many small ponds in the urban areas of my territory I could drive around and check. So, I set off to find some anglers before the sun had a chance to scare everyone off.

I came upon a pond in a housing development where a few people were fishing. Of course, I always like to watch for a while first to make sure I know who was fishing and who wasn't. There looked to be a father/son team fishing on one side of the pond. Dad was baiting the hook and helping the boy cast. It wasn't long before the bobber took a dive and the boy reeled in a really (and I mean really) small bluegill. Dad removed the fish and tossed it back into the water. Definitely not a keeper.

My attention shifted to the other side of the pond where an elderly man was sitting in a lawn chair holding onto a rod- line in the water. He was a "cute" old guy- kind of round, with a baseball cap smooshed onto his head. I hate to say it, but he was even sporting some plaid shorts. It felt like I was watching a Norman Rockwell painting.

Suddenly the old boy's bobber disappeared, he set the hook and pulled up a fish that rivaled the size of the one caught by the young boy on the other side of the pond. Tiny. But, instead of throwing it back, he threw it into a five gallon pail next to his chair. I watched him do this about three more times- the fish never bigger than a child's hand. Now, there is nothing illegal about what he was doing, I just thought it was strange that he was keeping such small bluegills. It looked like an awful lot of cleaning for such tiny fillets.

The sun broke over the rooftops of the houses and the air heated quickly. The old guy was calling it quits. He packed up his stuff and started walking around the sidewalk that surrounds the pond. He was walking in my direction, so I decided to wait until he got closer before getting out to check his license (no need to sweat if it can be helped right?)

Just as he came up to where my truck was parked I got out and started chatting with him. He was a friendly guy- reminded me of my own grandpa. When I asked for his fishing license, he set down the bucket, and a cloth grocery bag he was carrying. I noticed that inside the bag was a half a loaf of Wonder bread. He dug out his lifetime fishing license from his pocket and handed it to me.

"So, did you catch some keepers?" I asked, nodding in the direction of his bucket.

"Oh, no. I'm not keeping those," he said.

"Ummm. Can I ask why you have them in your bucket then?" I asked, trying not to sound like an idiot.

"Well, I'm going to dump them out over there," he said, pointing toward a house on the other side of the pond, "I want to make sure there are fish in front of my house."

"Oh," I said (because what the hell are you supposed to say to that?). I didn't want to sound rude by asking him if he really thought the fish would stay where he dumped them. They do swim, you know.

I gave his license back and watched him continue to his house. Sure enough, he reached the house he was talking about, and dumped his bucket of teeny tiny panfish into the water. Then he sat on the bank and proceeded to rip the remaining half of the Wonder bread loaf into teeny tiny pieces and throw them in the water after the fish. When the loaf was gone, he stood up, brushed the dirt from the back of his green plaid shorts, walked up to his house and went inside.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But I decided to laugh-just a teeny tiny bit.

This Land is Your Land...Maybe

I left a meeting this morning feeling pissed off moderately frustrated. There may have even been some steam coming from my ears, and it wasn't because it was 100 degrees today. I sat around a table with the Sheriff in my county, 3 city police chiefs, 2 DNR biologists and a county supervisor. Sound like fun yet? I didn't think so.

The purpose of the meeting was to be bullied into discuss the possibility of "giving" ten acres of one of the state's wildlife areas over to the law enforcement agencies in my territory so they can build a private shooting range. Am I the only one who thinks this doesn't sound right?

I am in a unique position here...I am a law enforcement officer who understands the importance of regular shooting. My life may depend on it someday. But my heart tells me that taking 10 acres away from the hunters/anglers of the state is a poor choice.

Here are the problems I have with this plan:
1. The DNR already has a public rifle/pistol range (25, 50 and 100 yards) and a shotgun range. We offered to reserve the ranges for various agencies as needed.
2. The hunters of the state have been paying for the use of this wildlife area for many years, and it doesn't seem right to hand it over to a private group.
3. More than 10 acres would be affected--it is a shooting range that will be located right next to a waterfowl refuge on one side, and good waterfowl, deer, turkey, and pheasant hunting on the other.

4. This state ranks low in percentage of public land...very low.
5. Even if the law enforcement agencies give the DNR more than 10 acres in return, it wouldn't be contiguous to this wildlife area.
6. The sheriff apparently wrote a letter to the biologists and other interested parties. In the letter he said that "the DNR officers in the area" (me) are FOR this shooting range because I would be able to use it. This is a complete lie- I was never even told that there were talks about this issue two years ago, let alone ask for my opinion. The sheriff completely made it up.

7. Can't they purchase private property??

8. The interested agencies have already "saved up" half a million in "drug money"...couldn't they build an indoor range and make a little money by charging outside agencies to use it?

Of course I brought up all my "issues" with this plan at the meeting and in the process didn't make any friends with the leaders of all the law enforcement agencies in my territory. Not a good feeling when I rely on them for back-up sometimes.

But what is the role of the game warden if not to try to protect the wild animals and their habitat? Wouldn't any conservation minded person want to keep a wild area wild for the sake of their children and grandchildren?

One of the biologists told me that this kind of thing happens all the time...and it usually goes straight over our heads to the director and then the governor. We will likely lose the 10 acres.

Why is it that so many people see a big wildlife area and only see empty, unused space? What is the value of this land?

All the photos I included are taken in the wildlife area in question...I don't see any empty space.

What do you think?

10 Comments That Make a Game Warden Cringe

I can't speak for all game wardens, but here is a list of things people say to me on a fairly regular basis that drive me batty. Unlike my previous top 10 list (see: 10 Things I Secretly Enjoy Saying to Violators), this list contains responses that I would get great pleasure from saying, but for fear of a complaint to the governor's office, refrain from doing so. I'm really not quite as bitter as some of these sound...(and no offense to anyone actually named Billy Bob).

10. Billy Bob: "I was going to be a DNR, but decided not to."
   
What I want to say: "Really Billy? I've never heard of anyone aspiring to be a governmental agency before. Maybe you should look into becoming a Department of Human Services instead. I hear they are looking for more of those."

9. Billy Bob: "Since when do they give you guys guns? Do you use them to shoot animals or something?"

What I want to say: "No, Billy. Actually we save most of our bullets to shoot people. It is kind of a dangerous job considering that every Billy Bob we run into is carrying a shotgun, handgun, rifle or knife (or more likely, all of the above plus a six pack). Thanks for asking though."

8. Billy Bob: "There is no sign saying I can't do that."

What I want to say: "Billy, there aren't enough signs in the world to keep you from doing something as stupid as this. Here's your sign Billy-just carry it around with you."

7. Billy Bob: "You have the best job in the world. All you have to do is drive around in a boat all day."

What I want to say: "Billy, it's 95 degrees today-why don't you take my bullet-proof vest for a while, my 15 pound duty belt, and my polyester shirt. Oh yeah, and give me your beer. Let's see who has more fun."

6. Billy Bob: "I'm just calling because I set a live trap and caught a skunk in it. Just wondering when you will be able to come and take care of it."

What I want to say: "Billy- did I tell you to set a live trap? No. Did I tell you that I would come and release whatever you caught? No I did not. Here is a piece of advice though, another game warden told me that if you dress completely in camo and approach very slowly you will be perfectly fine. Give me a call back and let me know how it goes."

5. Billy Bob: "My friends and I are drinking a few beers and we got to arguing about whether or not you can party hunt pheasants. My friends say no and I say yes- thought I'd call so you can tell them they are wrong."

What I want to say: "Billy, it is 2:00 am, I'll look it up after I wake up and call you back. What is your phone number?"  2:00 am the next morning: "Billy, sorry it took me so long to get back to you. The answer is no."

4. Billy Bob: "Just calling to let you know I rescued a fawn. It's mother abandoned it so I brought it in the house a couple days ago to protect it from the dogs. Any idea what I should feed it?"

What I want to say: "Billy, just because you did not see the mother does not mean that it was abandoned, and you probably just ruined her day by kidnapping her baby. And by the way, congratulations- you probably just signed its death certificate."

3. Billy Bob to his son, Junior in a stage whisper: "Junior, you be good now and eat your cheeseburger or I am going to call her over here to arrest you.  But just don't tell her about the deer we rifled last night."

What I want to say: "Billy, this was not funny the first 6789543 times I heard it while eating in a restaurant, and it isn't funny this time either. Be more creative."

2. Billy Bob: "I know my son Junior and he would not do something as stupid as that. I raised him to hunt by the rules. You got the wrong kid."

What I want to say: "Billy, the apple apparently doesn't fall far from the tree. Your son is a little smart-mouthed, disrespectful shit who needs to learn his lesson. Unfortunately I'm the only one willing to teach it to him."

1. Billy Bob: "I pay taxes and I pay your salary. I'll have your job!"

What I want to say: "Actually Billy, since I caught you taking a buck out of season with no license, you actually DON'T pay my salary. I'm paid through hunting and fishing license fees, not taxes. So buy a license and then come and talk to me. Oh, and I think after your employer sees your name in the paper, it is more likely that I'll have your job."