Christian Kiefer - The Animals

All right, all right, he said, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. Behind him, Cinder, the rescue’s resident mountain lion, watched them both, her one undamaged eye expressionless, outsize paws resting on the stone beneath her head. Look, that’s not even the real reason I came out here, the warden said. I need to talk to you more about all that permitting stuff.

I was afraid you were gonna say that.

Like I told you before, that’s the job. Part of it anyway.

Bill thought the warden might say something more but there was nothing and so Bill said, I guess we’d better head up to the office. He turned and walked back up the hill then, the warden behind him, Bess appearing at a distance, a look of concern upon her face. The animals were all at their fences now, pacing, watching them as they came up the trail between the enclosures: the mountain lion first and then the badgers and raccoons, the raptors hopping about on their perches. It’s all right, Bill said to them. He expected the warden to comment but again there was nothing. Farther up the trail, Bill could see Majer’s back as the bear moved toward the rear of the enclosure, a vast mountain sinking slowly from view.

You want a coffee or something? Bill said as they entered the office.

No coffee for me, thanks. The warden sat down immediately and Bill refilled his cup and then sat at the desk, the coffee curling steam.

Well, the warden said, let me just get to it then. We’ve got some real immediate concerns out here.

What kind?

I don’t even know where to start. You’re operating what’s essentially an illegal facility.

How’s that?

You’ve got to be licensed to run a zoo.

It’s not a zoo. It’s a wildlife rescue.

I think you might be missing my point, the warden said. His face looked pained and he did not seem willing to meet Bill’s eyes.

No, I get it. You’re talking about some kind of paperwork thing? Like a permit?

It’s a bit more involved than that.

That’s fine, Bill said. Let us know what you need us to fill out and we’ll start working on it.

It’s not really that simple, the warden said. I mean, look, you’ve got two federally protected species here. Grizzlies and wolves fall under US Fish and Wildlife.

So what does that mean?

Means Department of Interior.

So we’re talking about more paperwork?

No, the warden said. And then, I don’t know. The thing is, you can’t— He took a breath. Look, it’s my understanding that the grizzly wasn’t born in captivity. Do I have that right?

My uncle bought him from a gas station.

Where?

Bill almost said, Montana, but caught himself. Just a few miles north of here. Orphaned, I think.

See, that’s the problem. If that bear wasn’t born in captivity what you have is a big game animal. And a wild one at that. That’s going to be an issue at the federal level.

Bill smiled as if the warden was making a joke of some kind. Majer’s about as wild as a poodle.

That may be, but the law’s pretty clear on what can and can’t be put in a cage in the state of Idaho. And that’s even clearer if we’re talking about a federally protected species like wolves and grizzlies.

Majer’s lived in captivity all his life.

But he wasn’t born in captivity. See? That’s the distinction.

Bill sat looking at him, not speaking for a long time. Sure he was, he said at last. Yeah, I just forgot. That’s what my uncle said. The gas station guys bred him or something.

We’d need some kind of proof of that but there are lots of other issues here.

Like?

Like I know the wolf just came in a couple of years ago. Same problem, really. Federally protected species.

Yeah, you keep saying that, Bill said. But what am I supposed to do with him?

Well, that’s a good question. It’s possible you could find a registered, licensed zoo to turn him over to. The other possibility is that we’d need to officially dispatch the animal.

Dispatch, Bill repeated.

I’m afraid so, the warden said. Look, Bill — can I call you Bill? — I’m an officer of the law. You can’t have these kinds of animals without permits. Hell, I don’t even think there are permits for what you’re doing up here.

What I’m doing? What’s that supposed to mean?

It’s not supposed to mean anything. Except that you’re breaking the law.

Why not just issue me a permit?

It’s not that easy.

Zoos get permitted.

Zoos don’t keep wild animals.

Come on, Bill said. We’ve been doing this for, like, twenty-five years.

I know you have. And the bear’s been here the whole time, right?

Sure he has.

Look, the situation is this. My predecessor was a nice guy and all, but he left me more messes to clean up than I thought possible. And then there was that Ligertown stuff last year. Hell, Bill, I got the governor looking over my shoulder now to make sure that kind of thing doesn’t happen again.

Bill shook his head. We’re not like that place, he said.

I know you’re not but that’s what everybody else is going to think.

Just do your inspection and tell us if there’s anything that needs changing and we’ll do it.

It’s not that simple. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t retroactively permit you for animals you already have. That’s the situation.

The door opened in the awkward silence that followed and Bess stood in its lit rectangle. Do you need me? she said, tentative, quiet.

Yeah, Bill said.

The warden introduced himself to Bess and she shook his hand. We getting inspected? she asked him.

No, no, the warden said.

I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do here, Bill said from the desk.

I’m just here to give you a heads-up on the situation.

But what you’re talking about, Bill said, his voice coming in a kind of rush, what you’re talking about is killing my animals.

The warden shook his head. Let’s not…, he said. Then he started again. Let’s not go there. Not yet.

But that’s what you’re saying, right?

I didn’t mean to suggest that was what was going to happen. I’m just telling you what the regulations state.

What do the regulations state? Bess said.

That they want to kill the animals, Bill said.

Now, wait a minute. That’s not what I said. No one wants to kill anything.

Bill did not speak now. From the black mouth of the coffee cup on the desk drifted a slanting column of white steam.

What do you need us to do? Bess said.

OK, now, that’s good. That’s positive thinking, right?

Bill did not speak. Not a word. There was a twisting inside him now, a twisting that was anger and frustration and also the thin sharp blade of panic.

To start with I’m gonna need to see a lot of paperwork, the warden said to Bess. You got a vet that comes around?

Nat could feel Bess looking to him for permission to answer the question but he did not move and after a moment she said, Grace Barlow. She stepped into the room now and closed the door behind her.

OK, the warden said. You have records of all that?

Sure, Bess said.

Look, bottom line, the warden said. You’re breaking the law if you don’t have the permits. And I don’t think permits exist for what you’re doing here. I’m not saying that what you’re doing isn’t a good thing but there are laws in place. You don’t get to decide what you can put in a cage.

Who decides then?

The law, the warden said simply.

Bill sat looking at him, teeth tight in his jaw. The warden held his gaze for a moment and then looked away. When Bess spoke, Bill thought he could see a wave of relief pass through him.

Can you get us a list of the paperwork you’ll want to see? she said.