Fly by Night (37 page)

“Maybe sometime we could talk, TJ,” she said just loud enough for him to hear as he handed her a file with papers.

Amelia watched as Bryce listened to both Charlotte and TJ giving him the lowdown on raising Lacey and Junior. She was so confused, so overwhelmed, she hugged her knees and watched as Junior squatted and peed, wanting to look at the shell, but not allowing her eyes to wander.

She set down the file and stood, slipping her arm again through Bryce's. He squeezed it back as a lover, as men had in the past. Whatever happened, Bryce would be there. If it went bad, he'd be there. If it went good, he'd be there too.

“Just handed off information to Amelia,” TJ told Bryce.

She wondered why he avoided speaking directly to her, as if she was some irresponsible teenager who couldn't be trusted.

Amelia bent and lifted the file from where she'd set it down, holding it up as evidence, trying to catch TJ's eye so he would look at her.

“Being that both their parents were high content wolf /husky hybrids, there's a high probability these will be too,” TJ explained.

“So how do you tell wolves from regular dogs?” Bryce asked.

“I'll show you.” TJ picked up Junior as if he was a specimen. The pup cried out, splaying his front legs. TJ looked at Bryce. “First of all—wrong time of year for wolf litters. Wolves are always born mid to the end of March through May,” he said. “Same with foxes.”

“How come?” Bryce asked.

“That's the mating cycle,” he explained. “Maximizes the chances for survival. Weather, availability of food, water.”

Amelia and Bryce nodded.

“This young,” he continued, “we go by markings, conformation, and color of nails, eyes, and footpads. All wolves are born with blue eyes. They change to amber, green. Their eyes are heavily lined with black pigment and very slanted, almond shaped—it maximizes communication. They talk with their eyes.”

Bryce and Amelia looked at each other. “It's the same with marine mammals. Dolphins, whales,” Bryce said.

TJ turned Junior over. The pup shrieked. “For one, wolf pups are solid in color at birth, either charcoal, dark brown or black like this little guy,” TJ said. “But if you look…” He touched Junior's chest. “He's got a white star on his chest.”

Junior quieted as TJ turned him right side up.

“Then we look at nails.” TJ held the pup's paw. “He's got black, but there's a few white, ivory ones on each paw. Dogs have lighter colored nails except for Arctic wolves.”

He then went on to explain how the pads of wolf pups will stay dark, almost black.

“Wolves' tails don't curl like you see in domestic dogs,” he explained. “They're either straight out, up in a form of dominance, or down at rest or tucked under in fear or submission. Tails have no white tips, only black or indistinguishable.”

“You mentioned conformation,” Bryce asked.

“Pure wolves,” TJ explained, “much like this guy, have narrow chests, their legs are longer, close together, almost knock-kneed in appearance—it enables them to burst into speed. Very narrow shoulders and hind ends—very different from dogs, even this young.”

He held up Junior.

“See his legs? Chest?” TJ asked. “They're young.” He gestured to the sleeping gray female. “But right there you can see wolf conformation. Yet both their tails are tipped with white—that's husky.”

He finished explaining and looked at them both.

“I've read somewhere that they have special scent glands,” Amelia said.

“Yep. What's called a precaudal gland near the top of their tails.” TJ held out Junior's tail. “It's marked by stiff guard hairs. See?” TJ began parting the fur on Junior's tail with his fingers. “He's got the marking but—I'll put my money on it not being a functional gland. Many old northern breeds have the caudal mark. Wolves also have glands up on their cheeks, behind their ears, between their toes, which is why they will rub their faces against you. People think they're being affectionate, and they are, but it's also to mark you. Dogs'll do the same thing. Leftover instincts.”

Amelia crouched down and picked up Lacey to examine her tail. “She's got the mark too, but”—she parted the guard hairs—“no gland.”

“Her pads?” TJ asked.

Amelia turned the pup over. “Pink, some black.”

“With pure wolves they're dark gray and black,” he said. “As they get older, you'll be able to tell more behaviorally. Some are more wolflike, like Jethro. I've forwarded those links to you; feel free to call us anytime.”

“Thanks,” Bryce said.

The pups began to cry. Charlotte quickly mixed formula at the office sink, shaking both bottles and she handed one to Amelia. Everyone watched as the pups latched on, drawing down an increasing amount of formula as the bottles were empty in a matter of under a minute.

“Gosh, they're so thin.” Charlotte turned to TJ, shaking her head in worry.

“They'll fatten up,” TJ said. “Though I'm a little more worried about Junior right now,” he said. “He's thinner. But just keep to the feeding schedule. They cry, stuff a bottle in their mouths until they transition to kibble. It'll be another two or so weeks.”

After the feeding, the pups were placed down on a mat on the office floor. Junior seemed more energetic, scooting around until Lacey found a burst of energy to ram him.

“Ma hadn't lived there for five years,” TJ explained. “Bad arthritis, hard for her to get around.”

Amelia turned to him, hoping he'd say more about Gloria, more about her life, who she was, but he didn't.

“No one's gone out there to leave food,” Charlotte said.

They sat for a while.

“Bet she was running with Jethro though,” Charlotte said. “The two were inseparable.”

They watched the pups wiggling and rolling on a blanket in the middle of the floor with Junior lifting his head for moments at a time.

“These are more like house wolves,” Charlotte said. “It's going to be a lot of work.” She looked from Amelia to Bryce, checking one last time whether they were up for it. “You'll have your hands full.”

“We know that,” Amelia said, feeling like she was countering something that was not being said. They'd been on board with them taking the pups and now it seemed to have changed.

“It'll take a bit of recalibrating.” Bryce winked at Charlotte. “But we've been in the animal biz a long time.”

Marine science happened 24/7. Up all night in research vessels, running timed experiments that had to be tweaked every hour for days. She and Bryce were no strangers to round-the-clock work. If anything, the brief stint with unemployment and Sea Life had provided a short respite from the real work of science.

“I fed and cared for two orphan baby seals as an undergraduate one summer,” Amelia said. “Lived with them in the aquarium.”

“A baby seal. Bet it was cute,” Charlotte repeated and shook her head, imagining what that was like.

“Cute but they stink,” Amelia added. “I'm a marine biologist.” She touched her chest.

“We know,” Charlotte said.

“So's Bryce.” Amelia looked to him. “Been at this for twenty-five years.”

“TJ and I explored your Web site—University of Rhode Island.”

Amelia looked down at the pup.

“Sorry about the grant funding,” Charlotte said in response to Amelia's gesture. “Happens to TJ and GLIFWC all the time.”

TJ had moved to his desk, seemingly working at the computer.

“Yeah, well.” Amelia moved to sit down on the floor next to the pups. “We're working to get funding for next fall, restart our lab, and hopefully move back East.”

“We stayed up one night reading about your work, the places you've been,” Charlotte said. “Our sons Gavin and Skye—both are wildlife biologists like TJ.”

“Alex, my son, did the same.” Amelia pulled her phone out of her back pocket and began showing photos. “He's now working in Vancouver as a marine biologist.”

“Animals must be in the blood somewhere,” Charlotte said, scrolling through photos to show Amelia.

Amelia raised her eyebrows. Nothing about her father had ever indicated he'd been an animal lover.

“Take the crate,” Charlotte suggested. “We have tons of them. TJ dug this one out of the shed. You'll want to get bigger ones as they grow older. And I'll send you off with enough Esbilac milk replacement formula to keep them for weeks until they're on kibble. It's powdered. Just add water like we've been doing. Make sure you shake well otherwise it'll clog the nipple.”

Amelia felt Charlotte was saying good-bye forever.

Amelia's stomach lurched at the thought of leaving, of driving back.

“Hey.” Charlotte slapped her thighs and stood. “You guys wanna go back to the house, make s'mores before you hit the road? I'll put on a pot of coffee.”

“You got me,” Bryce said as he stood and rubbed his stomach. “I haven't made s'mores since getting shipped off to summer camp in Maine.”

“Got one taker,” Charlotte said as if taking the first bid at an auction. “Anyone else?” The woman looked from Amelia to TJ before the hammer came down.

The two of them were quiet. Both lost in thought, lost in things not said, lost in maybe not knowing how to start and wondering if it was worth it to even begin.

“Fire's probably just about right now. Bryce?”

*   *   *

After the walk back to the house, they sat by the fire assembling s'mores.

“Can you tell me more about the wolf hunt?” Amelia asked, wondering how long he'd kept the Tyrian purple snail shell on his desk, seeing it in her mind's eye and guessing maybe her father had picked up an extra one for him after she'd made such a big deal about how special they were.

They both looked at her.

“Wolf hunt's forbidden on reservation lands,” TJ said. “Always will be.”

“But you hunt deer.”

“Wolves are sacred animals.”

“But off reservation?” she asked.

“Still sacred. But we have no control over hunting off-reservation,” TJ said.

“He tried,” Charlotte said. “We all did.”

Amelia watched as he withdrew and became sullen. She backed off.

“Since this past October in Wisconsin. DNR took 'em off the endangered/protected list,” he said. “Now everyone wants to bag a wolf. Permits to kill two hundred and one of 'em.”

Amelia didn't know what to say. Her mind was calculating what must be the number of wolves in the region.

The little Amelia knew about
Canis lupus,
they were known to be shy, reclusive animals that hid from humans.

“They're curious like dogs,” TJ said. “But in hundreds of years there's been only one or two recorded incidents where a wolf attacked a human in North America and even then the circumstances were peculiar, if not suspect. They live in family groupings.” TJ turned to Amelia, seeking her out for the first time. It made her think she might be more in his thoughts than he'd led her to believe. “Like whales and seals, they bother no one, except for the deer and other wildlife that're part of their diet.”

“Why would someone want to kill a wolf?” Amelia asked in disbelief. “It would be like shooting a dolphin.”

Charlotte looked at her. “The public explanation is that they attack livestock, depredation, but the recorded incidences are low, more animals die as a result of farmer neglect and bad practices than wolves.”

“The state compensates them heavily for loss, and often it's not from depredation. Very few are killed by wolves,” TJ said.

“They also claim wolves kill pet dogs,” Charlotte began. “So few are. More dogs are hit by cars and killed on country roads in a week than are killed in a year by wolves. And these are the ones that are allowed to roam and when they enter wolf territory, they're perceived as a threat to the pack family. Hunting dogs are attacked, usually bear hunting dogs that intrude on wolf territory, and injured for the same reason but then the state compensates the owner for that in addition to canine deaths because of bear hunting practices and the use of what are called bear dogs. Now they're using dogs to hunt wolves who've been snared and trapped.”

“What's a bear dog?” Amelia asked.

Charlotte shook her head in anger. “Then there's others who are just bloodthirsty, they're trophy hunters who want to go on an African safari just to kill in these hunting areas. The only time they feel a thrill or alive is when they're killing something—something's that done them no harm.”

Charlotte stood and walked toward the kitchen. Amelia could tell she'd gotten upset.

“Coffee's ready,” she said in a subdued voice.

“I could use a cup before we hit the road,” Bryce said and stood holding Lacey.

Amelia lifted Junior and held him to her cheek as he grunted in protest and peed down the front of her sweater.

“I've been christened.”

Charlotte tossed her a roll of paper towels.

*   *   *

“So, Amelia.” TJ stood and walked to the kitchen counter in a way that suggested she follow. “A matter of business before you leave.” He turned toward her and held up a pen. “These are property transfer documents for the house that will make us co-owners.”

Amelia walked over. She shifted Junior to her other hand and bent over. He'd already signed. She did as well below his name everywhere that was indicated.

“Done.” She straightened up and handed him back the pen but he'd turned away.

“In spring we can decide what to do with the place,” he said.

He turned back and handed her a key ring with two keys. “House. Garage,” he indicated. “No one's lived there in five years—no heat, water, electricity.”

“No heat?” Amelia asked.