by Anita Claire
By the time we arrive at the airport we haven’t even made it halfway through the first discussion. Good thing I’m flying private. “Everyone on the plane. We’ll discuss this on the way to Chicago.”
After four hours of moving between the two meetings, decisions are made.
“We’re set to take off at ten o’clock,” the flight attendant confirms.
“Is it cool for us to head into the city for dinner?” one of the lawyers questions.
“If you’re not back on this plane by ten, you're flying home commercial,” I bark out before taking off.
Chapter 3 – Ana –Tomatoes
Brody said he would text. It’s been five days. A lot of guys say they’ll call, they’ll text...but it’s just a “polite way” for them to blow you off. Then again, it’s not like he said that after a date. He volunteered to join me; he asked for my number. I stare at my phone feeling confused and anxious.
***
Sunday afternoon I head over to my childhood home to check up on my dad. I find him in the backyard tending to his garden.
“You live alone, how many tomato plants do you need?” I hand him a cold drink.
“You can’t buy a good-tasting tomato at the store. I like to put cherry tomatoes in my salad, the plums are great for sauce, the beefsteaks are perfect for slicing, and I couldn’t do without the Cherokee Purples since they taste so good. What I can’t eat, I bring to work. They’re gone within an hour.”
“Did you get together with anyone this weekend?” I ask.
“Ana, stop worrying about me, I’m fine.”
“But it’s not good to sit home all weekend alone with your tomato plants.”
“I read, I watched the game, I got caught up on some paper work…after such a busy week, it’s nice to relax.”
“Do you have dinner plans?”
Dad shakes his head.
“We can try out that new Middle Eastern restaurant by Broadway Plaza.”
“You’re just like your mother, always interested in trying out the latest restaurant.”
“You know, Mom’s been gone for a long time and we’re all grown. Don’t you think it’s about time you started dating.”
“Sweetheart, I’m fine. I have my job and my garden.”
“But is that enough? Don’t you think it would be more fun to garden with someone else? I’m not saying you have to fall in love and get married, but isn’t there some nice lady you can ask out for dinner?”
“What about you? You’re youngisnt it time for you to start living your life?”
“I’m fine, I’m busy, my life is full.”
“Don’t confuse being busy with full. Isn’t there a nice man you can date?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Yet, you think it’s that easy for me.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just…if you know a nice woman, ask her out to dinner. Maybe she’s lonely and just waiting for a nice man that she can share a meal with.”
“Okay, I promise, the next single, nice woman I talk to, I’ll ask to dinner. But only if you promise me you’ll be open to going out with a nice man.”
“I’m open.”
“Oh Ana, you’re the one I worry about most. You’re so busy taking care of everyone else, you forget to take care of yourself.”
“That’s not true, I take great care of myself.”
“Here Ana, have a tomato.”
***
My day in the field starts early. Loaded down with plenty of water, my college intern, Jack, and I start following the route my lion took. As we head into the backcountry, I check for scat, tracks, dead prey, or any other animal signs. I’ve been tracking carnivores for years. I love being out here. I love the crisp clean air, the sound of my breath, the smells of the earth, and the proximity to wildlife that I get to experience while I’m scaling the difficult terrain. My lion spent very little time on fire roads and hiking trails, so my day is spent following deer trails through the dense forest, avoiding Poison Oak, cutting through chaparral, and hiking grassland. As I walk, I know where to look. When I find a pile of scat, I take a point on my GPS and bag a sample.
In the field, Internet access and satellite capture on the GPS is sketchy at best. Even so, I log where I am and what I find. Most of the time, my updates and messages don’t get sent until there’s better service. When I get back in the lab, I’ll test all the scat for poison. We still haven’t gotten our sick cat’s tox screen back from the UC Davis lab. On TV shows, the technology is relatively accurate, but the timing is super unrealistic. The shows make the turnaround seem like it happens in a minute.
After walking my lion’s path for hours, I mark our location on my GPS before Jack and I head back to my truck.
I drop Jack off at his apartment on my way to the lab to get my latest specimens tagged and ready for testing. When I finally get good Internet coverage, I check my e-mail and texts.
The vet left me an update.
Vet:Our lion has stabilized. It looks like she might live.
I scroll down to an out-of-state number.
Unknown:Are you doing a quadrant search tomorrow?
Could it be?
Ana:Who is this?
Unknown:Brody from Dr. Mosca's.
My face tingles red with heat.
Ana:Yes, do you still want to join me?
Brody:Yes
I start typing in a million different answers. Then I stop, delete. Then type, stop, delete. “Ana, you have time. Think it over before you send him a text,” I say to myself. After focusing, I come up with a plan. My fingers are jittery from excitement as I text him back.
Ana:I’ve got my supplies in my truck. I’ll pick you up at 6:30 a.m. What’s your address?
***
After slathering on plenty of sunscreen, I pull my hair back into my typical, backcountry braid. I don’t look pretty, but no other hairstyle is practical when you’re out in the field. I pack up plenty of food and water before taking off.
I park in front of Brody’s apartment. It’s about a mile from where I live. He’s in a great location walking distance to University Avenue.
Ana:Downstairs.
Brody:Be down in a minute.
Breathing slowly and mindfully, I use yoga techniques to calm down my nerves. Brody emerges from the building. He looks handsome and rugged. A smile bursts across my face as he approaches. If nothing else, today’s scenery is going to be great.
Chapter 4 – Brody – Field Work
Field work in the Army was physically and psychologically demanding, and I loved it. After deciding to go back to grad school, I traded in my military career for a desk job. I miss hiking in full gear, sleeping under the stars, and being in the action.
I throw my pack in the back of her battered F-150. It stands out since there are not a lot of beat-up trucks in Silicon Valley, hell;you hardly see a truck here. As I enter the cab, a surge of excitement runs through me.She sure is a pretty woman. Wait, I don’t have time for a woman. But, it’s just one day, and I could use a break.
“Good morning,” she exclaims. “Today shouldn’t be too hot, but you’ll still need a lot of water. Don’t worry, I’ve got extra.”
Man, she has a great smile.
“I’ve got plenty,” I say.
“The trailhead is about an hour from here.” We head toward the freeway.
“How’s our lion?”
“The vet’s surprised she’s still alive. She has Mange, was dehydrated, and internally bleeding—all symptoms of rat poisoning. But the tox screen isn't back, so I don't really know for sure. If you make too many assumptions, you can miss a big clue.”
“What do you do to save an animal that has been exposed to rat poison?”
“The vet's giving her fluids, Vitamin K1, and broad-spectrum antibiotics.”
“And that works? She’ll live?”
“If our lion was poisoned by a first-generation rat poison, one that was developed back in the 1940s and �
��50s, she’ll have a better chance of living. That would also mean she was poisoned by an old, ranch dump-pile. If she was poisoned by more recent, second-generation rat poisons, then our lion probably ate a deer one that a homeowner or rancher used for bait. Second-generation rat poison is more lethal, which means our lion will probably die, if that’s what got her. Until we get a confirmation, I won’t know what we’re dealing with.”
Since Ana gave me her number, I assume she’s single. I’ve never been one to ask personal questions, but I like the sound of her voice.
“What are you doing with lions?” I ask.
“I’ve got an NSF grant, it’s a continuation of my thesis, that is, so I’ve spent the last ten years tracking Apex predators in the Santa Cruz Mountains. It’s an island of wilderness surrounded by over six million people. Lions are at the highest trophic level. When they have problems, it’s a sign that we have a problem. I’m working with a number of area agencies, but my specific grant is to research how human encroachment and climate changes from global warming affect them.”
“How’d you know your lion was sick?”
“From her tracking device we saw she hadn’t moved for a couple of days. My intern and I went up to check on her. We found her under a bush. Then we carried her out.”
“You carried her out?”
“Me and my intern, yes. I always carry ropes and a muzzle. We trussed her up, and carried her out. That’s why my shoulders and neck have been bothering me.”
I look at her anew. That takes guts and strength. “What’s the plan?”
“I have a couple years of tracking data on her. Like most lions, she's a solitary hunter and is active at night. As far as I can tell, her kill rate is pretty typical, she takes a deer every two weeks or so. We've found some of her kills; she'll cache the body. It takes five days or so for her to munch through a good-sized deer before letting the lesser scavengers finish the job....”
I kick back and listen. It’s easy being with Ana, I don’t need to ask too many questions. She fills the air with technical information. Ana drives over Highway 92 to Half-Moon Bay, then down Highway 1 toward Santa Cruz. South of the Pigeon Point Lighthouse, she turns onto a side road. After about a mile, the pavement ends and the road turns to gravel. She stops the truck and pulls out her tablet.
She leans in closer to me to share her screen. “If you click the blue tab, you can see where all the collared lions are currently located. On missions like this, I try to stay away from the other lions.”
“Are you afraid that one will get you?”
“A man was killed down in San Diego back in 2004. Two women were killed in 1994, one in San Diego, the other in Sacramento. In 2014, a six-year-old boy was attacked while hiking with his family in Cupertino. The dad rescued him. Fish and Wildlife put that uncollared, juvenile male down—”
“—Is that yes or no?”
“There are forty million people living in California, most live within ten miles of a mountain lion. Over the last twenty-five years,three have been killed by mountain lions. And those three individuals were alone, and in the mountain lion’s habitat. We should be more scared of going to the homes of people who have pools.”
“We have an irrational fear of things we don’t deal with on a daily basis.”
“Yes, we do, which at some level, makes sense.”
The GPS leads us to a double-track dirt road with a fake lock-chain across the entrance. Since I'm riding shotgun, I get out and get the gate, then close it behind us.
“Are you sure it’s cool to be going on this road?” I question as I get back in the truck.
“Are you afraid that some crazy backwoods owner will come out and shoot us for trespassing?”
“An irrational fear of something I don’t deal with often.”
“I thought you were in the Army. Didn’t you take bad roads and backwoods routes?”
“Yeah, but I had a fully armed squad of highly trained men with me.”
“Ten soldiers with weapons...one wildlife biologist with a tranquilizer gun, same thing. Plus, I have a permit from the landowner.” She has a sense of adventure and a sense of humor. Let’s hope she’s not too outrageous in her views.
After about twenty minutes of going very slow on an old logging road, she pulls the truck over and parks. “I don’t think we can get any closer,” she says as she gets out and throws on a long-sleeve hiking shirt. “Do you have more clothes to cover yourself up with?” She catches me checking her out.
“I’m cool.”
“This place is loaded with Poison Oak and ticks. What skin isn’t covered with clothes will be covered with welts by the time we get back. In an hour, we’ll see who’s cool.”
“I’ve got a long-sleeve shirt.” I pull it out of my pack.
From the back of her truck, she pulls out a daypack that looks like it’s been well-used, then she holds up some energy bars. “Do you want some?”
“I’m ready.”
She smiles. Man, I like that smile.
“Okay, Brody, let’s get going.”
I watch her mark our location on her app, fire up a Yagi antenna and receiver, and start the tracking feature on her GPS.
“Nice equipment,” I comment.
“I can’t imagine what they did before we had this technology. We wouldn’t have found our female for months without it."
We walk along the pitted dirt road we’d parked on.
“Do you read ‘topo’ maps?” I ask.
“I learned to as a college intern and now I’m teaching Jack, my college intern. Weekend warriors orienteer for fun. My job demands that I’m good at it. Unfortunately, it’s getting to be a lost art.”
After about five minutes of walking, she stops to check our position. I stand close and look over her shoulder. She smells good, like something soft and fruity. My mind comes back to the moment when I see Ana draw her finger over the map.
“I think this will be the easiest way. It shouldn’t take us long to get back on my lion’s trail.”
The terrain is steep, but not too steep for a skilled hiker. I follow her and am impressed. She reminds me of my youngest sister outdoorsy and tough but, I’m not classifying Ana as a sister-type.I don’t have time for a girlfriend. Still, I’m going to enjoy my day with her. When we get to the bottom of the ravine, she pulls out her iPad to check our location. I peer over her shoulder and watch her toggle between satellite imagery and a map of the cat’s tracks.
“I didn’t realize you had this level of detail on wild animals.”
“We don’t have the people or systems in place to monitor them on a daily basis. But we have data from accumulated observations. I took the points we had and generated a GPX file of my lion's path. That file lets me see it on my GPS. Eventually, we’ll get funding for real-time, data transmission that’s used as a warning system. If we had that equipment, and one our large carnivores got into an inhabited location, one of us would be notified. It'll be nice to have the technology to capture an animal before it gets in trouble.”
Ana stuffs the iPad and GPS back in her pouch and pulls out a compass.
“Old school,” I say.
“It’s hard to hike with an iPad, even a mini. I have a solar panel that I can use to recharge it when I’m away from the truck for a long haul, but that's just more weight to carry. I can always rely on an old-fashioned compass and a paper map; the GPS doesn't always work under a dense canopy. When you were in the Army, what did you use?”
“GPS and compass.”
“So nothing any fancier than this.”
“A little fancier, but similar.”
We enter a redwood forest. Walking here is easy, since the foliage isn’t too dense under the trees. Ana keeps up a good pace. Eventually we hit a clearing filled with dense shrubs.
“Over there is where we can pick up our lion’s path. We’ll need to skirt around the clearing, since it’s too dense with shrubs to head straight through," she says.
“You know
this area well.”
“I’ve been hiking this range for almost ten years.”
The two of us walk single-file in silence. She’s good at picking a route, and I can’t help but to admire the view, she has a fine ass. After another twenty minutes, she stops, pulls out her devices, and checks our location.
“We’re close.” With her antennae up, we walk a bit farther. “Now we’re back on my cat’s trail.”
About five minutes later she pulls a bag out of her pocket and squats down next to some scat. “Looks like coyote.”
I get down on my haunches near her. “How do you know?”
“The size, it has to be an animal that weighs at least eighty pounds. In this area, that’s either coyote or lion.” She picks up a stick and points to the scat. “Coyotes are omnivores. You can see field mouse parts, like bones and teeth, along with plant parts like berries and seeds. Look at those huge manzanita seeds. Lions love deer, so their scat is full of deer hair. We have an overabundance of deer in this area, so there’s no need for cats to eat anything else. People are scared of large carnivores, but we need them. They help to keep the other animal populations in balance, especially the deer.”
“Are you for or against hunting?”
“Hunting in season, clean-killing animals that need to be culled, now that’s good wildlife management. But when some asshole poisons animals, kills endangered species, or kills animals out of season that’s bad animal management and is rightfully illegal. I fully support that the offender should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”
Using her iPad and the GPS, she takes photos of the scat and marks the spot where it was found. She picks up the scat with a bag that’s already numbered. “When I get back to the lab I can test it. If there’s a contaminated site, we’ll see traces of the toxins all over the place. Typically, we find lower concentrations, the farther we get from the site. If we can’t find the problem visually, we can zero in on the likely places by analyzing the scat.”
“This is fun.”
“Yes, it is fun, kind of like a scavenger hunt. I love my job. It’s the best job in the world. I get paid to hike.” She stops and looks me over. “I don’t even know what you do. The only thing I know about you, is that you are the first appointment at the chiropractor's on Tuesdays and you spend a lot of time checking, what I assume are, e-mails and texts.”
