by N. R. Walker
“I thought you said it was their diet? What, now you’ve changed your mind?”
“No. Something they’re eating is killing them. And entomotoxicological analysis would determine that. It’s not like I’m asking to take a living specimen and euthanise it. It’s already dead.”
Piers stared at me for a long moment. “Arguing will get us nowhere.”
“Then don’t argue with me.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not.”
He waved his hand in the air to signify he’d had enough of this conversation. “Then get me proof. If you can prove something is affecting the diet of a species found in several different countries, poisoning them, then I will agree to the CSIRO testing.”
* * *
So, for the rest of the day, I sat in the lab, researching, studying, thinking. I scoured the internet for any information pertaining to toxins that might possibly attribute to the cause and effect I was suggesting. I read research papers on bioaccumulation, biotransformation, bioconcentration, biodilution. By four o’clock, I was well past hungry, and my vision was blurry. I paused only a moment to rub my eyes when my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Jack.
“Hello,” I answered, sounding tired, even to my own ears.
He, on the other hand, sounded excited. “Lawson, I think I found something you might wanna come take a look at.”
“Jack, I’m very busy. I’m sorry. The last Ulysses died, and Piers has said the only way he’ll allow the testing I want done is to find proof.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Lawson. That’s what I think I found! I think I know what’s killing your butterfly. You gotta come over here. Bring Piers, he can have a look too. See whatcha both reckon.”
The enthusiasm in his voice made my heart race. I had no clue what he could possibly have found in relation to a dying species of butterfly, but Jack was very clued in when it came to all things flora and fauna. He was excited about something, and that was enough for me.
I stood up and grabbed my keys. “Piers? Piers!”
The professor came out of his office. “What is it?”
“We need to go. You wanted proof. Jack thinks he might have found it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jack
I waited in the car park for Lawson to arrive, and I was practically buzzing. He pulled up right by me, and I started explaining before he was even rightly out of the car. “I spent the day with Gary, the guy you met yesterday. Well, this morning we went into the forested area where the public doesn’t get to go, and he was telling me about how for the last few years the wet season hasn’t been… well, wet. Well below average rainfall. And he was telling me about cane toads and how they’re rampant with the drier weather.”
By this, Piers was out of the car, and I’d gone to the boot of the rental and took out the plastic tub with Lawson’s water testing gear in it. I handed it to Lawson and continued, “He said the water pools are smaller, more concentrated, and the cane toad tadpoles are even toxic. The waterways are making some critters sick. We need a good wet season and she’ll be right then.”
“Jack, where are we going?” Lawson asked.
I took the tub of specimen jars and closed the boot. “I’m getting to that.” I nodded to the staff-only gate to the side of the main entrance and started walking in that direction. “Anyway, then this afternoon, we went back to the orchard.”
“The orchard we visited yesterday?” Lawson asked.
“Yep. Anyway, Gary and Elsie—she works here too—were telling me about the water reticulation system, how it drip-feeds the trees. We had a look at the tank and that’s when I saw them.”
I stopped at the gate, waiting for Gary to open it. “Saw what?” Lawson asked.
“Cane toads.”
The door swung open revealing Gary and Elsie, the two park staff members I’d spent the day with. I quickly made introductions and we walked over to the old ute the staff used to drive around the park.
“Cane toads?” Piers asked. “What’s the significance? They’re everywhere.”
“Correct,” I agreed, putting the tubs into the back of the ute. Putting my hands on the tray back, I jumped up, then extended my hand out to Lawson first, helping him up, then Piers.
“Where are we going?” Lawson asked again.
“The orchard,” I answered.
Gary jumped in behind the wheel and drove us slowly down to our destination. I looked at Piers, who didn’t look all that comfortable riding in the back of a utility. It was kinda bumpy and windy, but there wasn’t enough room for us all to fit in the front. Piers was holding on to the side like he might die any minute. I figured distracting him might help. “Piers, where does the conservatory get its fruit from? That it feeds the butterflies?”
“Uh, here. And another organic orchard on the other side of town.”
Lawson, not bothered at all with riding in the back, cocked his head to the side in that thoughtful-processing way he did. “Are you saying there’s a correlation to the decline of the Ulysses and the cane toad?”
I nodded and grinned. “More specifically, the tadpole of the cane toad.” They both stared at me, so I elaborated. “I know it sounds crazy, but think about it. Where are the Ulysses butterflies found? Tropical Queensland, Solomon Islands, Papua New Guinea, and parts of Indonesia. Where are cane toads found? Queensland, Solomon Islands, Papua New Guinea, and parts of Indonesia. The Ulysses butterfly lays its eggs on the Melicope elleryana tree, yes?”
Lawson nodded. “The doughwood tree, yes.”
“And where does the doughwood tree like to grow?”
Lawson was beginning to smile. “Near water.”
“And what lives in the water pools at the roots of the doughwood tree?”
“Cane toad tadpoles,” Lawson answered.
I smiled at him. “And what did Gary say was highly concentrated and toxic?”
Lawson was beginning to smile. Piers looked sceptical. “How does this affect the Ulysses?”
“Bioconcentration,” Lawson answered, grinning now.
I beamed at Piers but pointed at Lawson. “That big word he said.”
We arrived at the orchard and Gary slowed the ute to a stop. I jumped out and stacked the tubs atop one another while they climbed down. “The water tank is over this way.”
As we walked over to the storage tank for the reticulation system, Lawson further explained. “Bioconcentration is a term that was created for use in the field of aquatic toxicology. And if the cane toad tadpoles are increasing the toxicity of the water, as Jack suggests, it stands to reason that only the Ulysses is affected because only the Ulysses inhabits the doughwood.”
We stood, looking at the tank, Gary included. The tank was pretty big: six-metre circumference, one metre high, and open at the top. We could see down to the bottom. It was essentially a rainwater catchment tank. The park administration buildings’ roof runoff was gravity fed to the tank. The water was then drip-fed to the orchard trees.
Lawson turned to Gary. “Are we free to take water samples?”
“By all means,” he answered.
So, Gary and I stood there and watched as they took water samples in specimen jars and even managed to catch some tadpoles.
“Cane toads are generally land-dwellers but they lay eggs in water,” Gary said for everyone’s benefit. “They’re a real bloody pest. We cover this tank, but it doesn’t stop ’em. They were introduced to Australia to eradicate some kind of beetle, but they ate everything else except for the damn beetle. They’ve infested waterways all across the top end of the country. Almost killed off water monitors and quokkas over on the west coast and have no predators. A mate of mine lost his dog to toad poisoning.”
“How do you deal with them here?” I asked.
“We try to trap ’em and euthanise ’em. We’re organic here, we have to be.”
“Yeah, back in Tassie we have the European white snail. Different pest, and certainly not on this scale, but same princ
iple.”
Lawson and Piers were finished with their water samples, so we moved to the trees themselves. Ulysses favoured citrus, so we went to those first. Lawson collected bark, leaf, and fruit samples. He collected another water sample of the drip feed irrigation near the trees, and of course, documented it all accordingly.
I thought Piers might have been reluctant to agree with my theory; he seemed a bit standoffish. But then he asked Gary, “And the fruit collected for the conservatory comes from here?”
Gary nodded. “Yes.”
Piers frowned. “And the doughwood trees in our butterfly house?”
“Sourced from the forest. We sell the saplings to raise money. There was a push a while back for the public to plant doughwoods when the decline of the Ulysses was first announced.” Gary spoke in a no-nonsense manner. He knew his job. I liked him.
Lawson stood up from his collection of specimen jars. “Can you take us into the forest?”
Gary looked at his watch. It was getting late. “We’ll have to be quick.”
So we grabbed the tubs and climbed into the back of the ute. Lawson smirked at me when Piers opted for the passenger seat, and once we were seated in the tray back and Gary was driving us further into the forest, Lawson leaned in and gave me a quick kiss.
“I believe I’ve said this before, but you’re a godsend.”
“Maybe it’ll lead to nothing,” I said modestly.
Lawson shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ve spent the whole day studying and researching all kinds of biotransference, biocontamination, biotoxicity… but something was missing. I couldn’t piece it together. Then you mentioned this, and it fits, Jack.” He gave me a smile that made my ribs feel too tight. “At any rate, if it’s not the toxicity from the tadpoles, it’s something like it. At least this should allow Piers to agree for me to send samples to the CSIRO for testing.”
“What do we do if it is the tadpoles?” I asked. “They’ve been trying to find ways to get rid of the cane toad for decades without any luck.”
Lawson seemed to think it over a while. “I don’t know.”
He seemed saddened by the idea, and my first instinct was to rescue him. “Hey,” I said, putting my hand on his leg. “But if it is, then at least we’ll know. Then contingency plans can be put into place. We can act, and there’ll be a better chance at saving them, right?”
He stared at me until his smile won out. “You know what I love most about what you just said―and for the record, I loved all of it―but the way you say we. We’ll know, we can act. I love that you’re including yourself in this, not only because it’s important to me, I understand that, but also because it’s important to the conservation of a species.”
I nudged his elbow with mine. “True. But mostly because of you.”
He gave me one of his shy smiles, my favourite kind. But before he could speak, the ute slowed to a stop and Gary got out. “This is as far as I can drive. We’re on foot from here.”
Lawson quickly jumped out. “How far is it, and what gear should I bring?”
“You won’t need your sat phone or anything like that,” I elaborated, knowing what Lawson meant. “This is where we came this morning. It’s only a hundred metres or so but it’s not exactly easy going. We’ll just grab some more samples, then we’ll have to leave. It’s getting late.”
Piers looked at his watch, while Lawson, Gary, and I all looked at the sky. It was funny how different we were. I mean, I understood why Piers might have fancied Lawson, truly I did. He found his intelligence attractive, and his love for Lepidoptera. But Lawson was so, so much more than that.
Lawson slid his backpack on regardless, then picked up the one tub that had the empty specimen jars in it. “Right then. Which direction?”
“East,” I said with a smile because I knew Lawson would get it. He turned due east and started walking, while I’m sure Piers was more of a left or right kind of guy.
I had to wonder how long it had been since Piers had set foot in the field. Or if he had, ever. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the guy. I just didn’t like the fact he kept blocking Lawson from trying to move forward with his help on the Ulysses. Why ask him here if he was just going to say no to every suggestion? I mean, if Lawson did decide to stay on here and help, he and Piers would argue every day. Lawson certainly wouldn’t back down. I didn’t think he knew how to take a backwards step.
Then again, maybe Lawson liked to be challenged. Maybe he liked the heated professional discussions and debates. Maybe he liked someone who challenged him on an intellectual level…
Lawson stopped walking. “Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Is this the spot you saw this morning?”
There was a bit of an embankment that housed shallow pools of surface water lined with doughwood trees. I’m pretty sure Lawson knew it was where I’d meant to bring him. I nodded.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Sure,” I said, faking a smile.
He eyed me cautiously for a moment, but Piers and Gary were right behind us. Soon enough, Lawson and Piers were taking water samples, tadpoles, a leech or two, bark and leaf samples, soil samples, and discussing things like equilibrium partitioning models and other things I couldn’t pronounce, let alone follow.
“Guys,” Gary interrupted their discussion on particulate toxin ratios. “We need to get going back. Park’ll be closed soon, and without permits, you have no insurance to be here.”
Lawson conceded and packed everything into the tub. I held my hands out. “Want me to carry it?”
He graced me with a smile. “Thank you.” He handed it to me, then opened the backpack. He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to Piers, who I hadn’t realised was kinda sweaty. Then Lawson quickly took out a notepad and pen, some digital thermometer thing, and proceeded to jot down some notes.
“What are you writing?” Piers asked after taking a mouthful of water.
Lawson didn’t even look up. “Temperature, humidity, location. Standard stuff.”
I couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of him. Gary gave me a smile before he turned to head off back the way we’d come. Piers followed Gary and I waited for Lawson.
“You good?” I asked after he slipped the notepad back into his backpack.
He slung the backpack on and settled the bag on his back, then we started the hike back to the ute. “Never better. Though I would like to come back, trek further into the forest if we can.”
“Sure. Though we’d better organise the proper permits.”
Gary dropped us back at the information centre where the rental car was parked. I picked up the three tubs stacked on top of the other and loaded them into the backseat. “I’ll sort out those permits before they close,” Lawson called out, dashing into the administration office.
I went to follow him, but Piers stopped me. “May I have a word?”
“Sure.”
He looked around, embarrassed. “I take it Lawson told you I had expressed an interest in him joining my team here.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, he did.”
“He hasn’t exactly answered.”
“Are you telling me this because you want me to try to sway his decision in your favour?”
“No, no,” he said quickly, then I’m sure he mumbled something in French under his breath.
“Because if you did, then you really don’t know Lawson at all.”
He nodded slowly. “He is a feisty one.”
“He’s also very good at his job, and he’s rarely ever wrong. Maybe you should listen to him.”
He seemed offended. “I hope you know I mean no ill toward yourself and Lawson.”
“I know. I also know that you expressed interest in his joining more than your team.”
Piers put his hand up. “I admit it was true. But he told me, in no uncertain terms, his only interest in that regard lies with you. I told him you were a lucky man.”
Okay, I officially didn’t get this guy. Was
he confronting me about my relationship with Lawson? Or was he congratulating me? “Piers, what is it you want from him?”
“I want him to help save the Ulysses.”
“Then listen to him. You know, before when I said Lawson’s rarely wrong, that was true. But you know what else he is? Level-headed, and his eyes are always on the end result. If he is wrong, he simply takes the new information on board, learns from it, and moves forward. He has no ego when it comes to his job. You can call him the best and brightest and he’ll agree with you, but that’s not ego. That’s a fact. He doesn’t care for fame and glory. I mean, he found a new species and named it after someone else. That right there tells you the kind of man he is.”
Piers nodded. “I know.”
“So if he does decide to stay here to help you with the conservation of the Ulysses, it’s because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. Not because of anything you or I say.”
Lawson came out of the office holding some papers. He held them up victoriously. “Permits for tomorrow granted!”
He handed them to me and I read the first part. There were only two names on the form. Me and Lawson… and it was an overnight stay permit.
“Overnight?”
Lawson blinked. “Well, the cane toad is primarily nocturnal, is it not?”
“Well, yes.”
“And I assumed Professor Bonfils would not rather camp out overnight?”
Piers glanced at me, then smiled at Lawson. “You would be correct.”
Lawson tilted his head in an of-course-I-am way then grinned at me. “It also means I can spend all day analysing our samples with Piers and sending away for further test results, while you organise our camping gear.”
I grinned at him. “Sounds like a plan.” Sounded better than just a plan. A night in the tropical rainforest with just Lawson and me sounded perfect.
Lawson pulled out the car keys. “Right, then. Let’s get these samples back to the lab.”
CHAPTER NINE
Lawson
I got to the lab early, excited to start my day. Professor Bonfils was there already, as I assumed he would be.
