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Authors: Joseph Heywood

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Service dug out his pack, gave one to the chief, and lit it for him.


Filthy
habit. Been battling the damn things for years,” he said. The chief lowered his voice. “I doubt Senator Timms would approve of Officer Sensitivity's behavior in the Marquette morgue.”

“I can explain that, Chief.”

O'Driscoll chuckled. “I'm sure you can,” he said, and walked away to join Captain Grant.

Reassembled around the fire and in their new coats, Chief O'Driscoll raised a glass and looked to his right. “Ware?”

Captain Ware Grant scanned the officers until he saw Service. “Grady, you were with Joe at the end. What were his last words?”

Service started to mumble, but Nantz poked him in the side. “Sir, he asked me how close he was to the runway and when I told him he said, ‘Goddamn shoulda made 'er.'”

The crowd laughed and cheered.

The captain let the noise subside. “I submit that Joe Flap did make it. He and all those like him made it by helping make us what and who we are.”

His voice seemed to catch on his words and he paused to regain his composure.

“Joe made it and each of you has made it. Most people don't know what you do, but you know and that's what matters. Just as Joe and his contemporaries paved the way for you, you will set the example for those to follow. We have more than one hundred years of tradition in the force, serving people, making sacrifices, getting the job done. Tonight we are all here to say good-bye to Joe Flap and to salute each other.”

Captain Ware Grant raised his glass and with a breaking voice said, “Horseblankets.”

More than 150 voices roared the word, and began clicking glasses of their neighbors.

The captain threw his glass into the fire. Moments later more than a hundred plastic glasses were melting in the flames.

Service whispered to Maridly Nantz, “Unlawful dumping of refuse.”

She poked him in the ribs again and looked up at him, her face lit by the flames of the bonfire. “I love you, Grady Service.”

He looked down at her and said, “I love you, Mar.”

Lisette McKower yelled, “Hang on people, I think the earth's about to move.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my agent Betsy Nolan, who guided me into the publishing world seventeen years ago and has kept me there. And special thanks to my editor Lilly Golden at Lyons Press, who lives among the trout in the Catskills and wields the blue pencil as deftly as any surgeon to both encourage and rein in my flights of fancy.

I especially want to acknowledge the assistance, time, trust, and encouragement of Michigan Department of Natural Resources Law Enforcement Division personnel: Lieutenant Tom Courchaine and Sergeants Mike Webster and Darryl Shann, COs Steve Burton, Grant Emery, Paul Higashi, Dave Painter, Tim Robson, Dave Van't Hof, and Detective Mike Johnson. Officer Robson is the first CO to check my fishing license in forty-three years of fishing in the state, doing so one muggy June night while I waded the Escanaba River, literally in the middle of nowhere, demonstrating how serious our officers are about protecting our resources. Tim materialized at sunset right after my nephew caught his first trout on a fly and a black bear swam across the river just above where we fished. It was a memorable evening on all counts.

I thank our state's real “Wolf Daddy,” Jim Hammill, whose passion for and curiosity about these magnificent animals knows no bounds. Jim met me after working hours, patiently and thoroughly answering my many questions about wolves and the work he and his people do.

Special gratitude goes to Department of Natural Resources Law Enforcement Division Chief Rick Asher, who has given me invaluable insights into the life of COs past and present, and to the division's spokesperson Brad Wurfel.

I am especially pleased to thank Sherie Courchaine and Sergeant Susie Webster (Michigan State Police, Retired) for their insight into the lives of spouses of COs, and for fine meals and good wine. I showed up at night late for dinner at their homes, dirty and smelly, sometimes bloody, and invariably dragging from twelve-hour patrols, and was graciously embraced as family.

I also want to thank retired CO Mike Holmes for the postseason feed at his hunting camp near Iron Mountain where I met many officers, active and retired, from Michigan and Wisconsin. They are impressive people with great senses of humor and love their stories. Special thanks also to retired BATF Special Agent Dave Mihills for his insight into federal law enforcement and for sharing driving duties in the Green Streamer II. Crystal Falls is a ten-hour drive from my home, and good conversation and company make the long sorties a hoot and a tutorial.

It is my intent in the Woods Cop series to help people understand what our officers do and to portray them as accurately as possible, but there are some procedures and working methods that I do not disclose. For poachers and violets who care to read, there will be no tips to help you.

There is no federal wolf laboratory at Vermillion, though the remains of the old storm warrior station still stand and there is protected ground for piping plovers there. The plovers were kind enough to show themselves to me in the autumn of 2001.

The Mosquito Wilderness Tract is a fictional name, but the area is real. Readers will find that its exact location is never precisely defined, and this is by design. There are some treasures you have to find on your own, the search being as delicious as the discovery.

The Michigan DNR Law Enforcement Academy is real, but funding so far has not allowed for a class to be trained every year. The architects of the academy intend for it to be a tough and grueling course that will produce dedicated and effective officers, and from what I have seen and heard, it is well on its way to meeting its objectives.

All of the characters in the Woods Cop series are fictional, but there are facets of real officers in all the characters, and many of the events and situations the fictional characters face in the stories are real. I have changed names and some details to protect privacy. Real officers demonstrate a lot more discretion than Grady Service, but they share his passion for the job.

What I've gotten right about what our COs do and how they work is due to the insight, candor, and help from these professionals and others. The mistakes are mine alone.

I have had the privilege of seeing three live gray wolves in Michigan's wilds, and I hope to see many more. Wolves have had bad PR for as long as they have been in contact with man, but the myths are just that and the animals are part of our state's natural heritage and deserve to live the way nature intends them to live.

We have about 160 COs working the woods and waters of Michigan's eighty-three counties, and our shores and shares of four Great Lakes. In my view our DNR Law Enforcement Division has too few people out there in the woods and dirt, and far too much to cover. I find it ironic that gray wolves are still listed as endangered in Michigan, yet they far outnumber our “working wardens.” As we learned in the wake of the disasters of September 11, 2001, technology is a tool that can never replace the human element essential to gathering intelligence or enforcing the laws of civilized society.

Knock on wood, our gray wolf packs will continue to increase and prosper, but it's up to our government to do something about law enforcement numbers. We need more conservation officers with their boots in the dirt and we need them now.

Joseph Heywood

Portage, Michigan

March 4, 2002

BOOK: Blue Wolf In Green Fire
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