easy. Easy. I’m trying to help you.”
It was a golden eagle, larger than a bald eagle, and a female. Goldens were superb hunters and seldom scavenged carcasses as their cousins did. This one was young, however, and had been attracted to a dead deer along the side of the road where she’d been clipped by a passing car. Another motorist spotted her hopping along the ditch and called Josh’s office. Despite the bird’s broken wing, it had still taken him the better part of an hour to get close enough to her to grab her.
“It’s going to be okay, honey. We’re going to get you fixed up and back in the sky in no time. But you’re going to have to go for a little trip first.” It was a struggle to get the big raptor into the large traveling kennel, but a short one—Josh was both strong and experienced. He’d rescued plenty of bald eagles but he’d never gotten this close to a golden, even though he’d seen them all his life in the Stikine River valley. He’d been surprised to see them soaring high above the hills in Afghanistan too. Their presence had helped center him, helped keep himself together amid the blood and violence. Once in a while a pair of golden eagles had flanked him as he flew his chopper over mountain and desert. Sometimes he pictured himself as an eagle too. Perhaps it was his Tahltan background—after all, eagles played a powerful role in clan culture, second only to wolves. Or perhaps he just plain liked to fly. Whichever it was, he felt a kinship with the extraordinary birds.
Fierce yellow eyes studied him through the bars, eyes that could see several times better than he could. He wondered what they saw. Josh instinctively wanted to stroke the eagle’s bronze head but knew that wild creatures seldom appreciated the human gesture. To them, he was an enemy and not to be trusted. Sometimes the very young ones, cubs and fawns, were all too happy to be held and petted, but it wasn’t good for them. They needed to retain a natural suspicion of humans—that’s what would keep them alive. He patted the top of the kennel instead and strapped it down before closing the tailgate.
He shook back his long dark hair as he swung into the truck cab. Usually it was tied back, but he’d lost the damn leather thong again. Maybe he’d cut his hair. His head had been shaved when he’d joined the service after 9/11, and in the breathless heat of Afghanistan he’d been glad of it. Five years. He’d spent five years there. Some nights he was still there....
Suddenly his cell phone belted out Nickelback’s If Today Was Your Last Day . Josh had chosen the song with a nod to two of his buddies who hadn’t made it back.
“Tark here.” He used his nickname from his service days without thinking.
“Who? I’m looking for Josh Talarkoteen.”
“You’ve got the right—Kenzie, is that you?”
>“You remembered my name?”
Hell yeah . He’d only been thinking about her a hundred times a day, trying to come up with an excuse to see her again that wouldn’t make him seem like a stalker. “Of course I did. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got an orphaned wolf here that I need some help with.”
His pleasure at having Kenzie on the other end of the phone was suddenly tempered with apprehension. Every year the Division of Wildlife Conservation was flooded with calls about abandoned animals, and most of the time, the creatures weren’t in need of help at all. It was typical of most mothers to leave their young for periods of time. A mother bear would actually run her young cubs up a tree so she could go fishing. Deer left their fawns in order to feed. As a result, Fish and Game usually ended up with far too many moose calves, fox and raccoon kits, even grizzly cubs that had been “rescued” by well-intentioned people who had no idea they were actually kidnapping the young animals.
A wolf cub, however, was unusual. There hadn’t been a report on one of those for over three years, and the last
It was a golden eagle, larger than a bald eagle, and a female. Goldens were superb hunters and seldom scavenged carcasses as their cousins did. This one was young, however, and had been attracted to a dead deer along the side of the road where she’d been clipped by a passing car. Another motorist spotted her hopping along the ditch and called Josh’s office. Despite the bird’s broken wing, it had still taken him the better part of an hour to get close enough to her to grab her.
“It’s going to be okay, honey. We’re going to get you fixed up and back in the sky in no time. But you’re going to have to go for a little trip first.” It was a struggle to get the big raptor into the large traveling kennel, but a short one—Josh was both strong and experienced. He’d rescued plenty of bald eagles but he’d never gotten this close to a golden, even though he’d seen them all his life in the Stikine River valley. He’d been surprised to see them soaring high above the hills in Afghanistan too. Their presence had helped center him, helped keep himself together amid the blood and violence. Once in a while a pair of golden eagles had flanked him as he flew his chopper over mountain and desert. Sometimes he pictured himself as an eagle too. Perhaps it was his Tahltan background—after all, eagles played a powerful role in clan culture, second only to wolves. Or perhaps he just plain liked to fly. Whichever it was, he felt a kinship with the extraordinary birds.
Fierce yellow eyes studied him through the bars, eyes that could see several times better than he could. He wondered what they saw. Josh instinctively wanted to stroke the eagle’s bronze head but knew that wild creatures seldom appreciated the human gesture. To them, he was an enemy and not to be trusted. Sometimes the very young ones, cubs and fawns, were all too happy to be held and petted, but it wasn’t good for them. They needed to retain a natural suspicion of humans—that’s what would keep them alive. He patted the top of the kennel instead and strapped it down before closing the tailgate.
He shook back his long dark hair as he swung into the truck cab. Usually it was tied back, but he’d lost the damn leather thong again. Maybe he’d cut his hair. His head had been shaved when he’d joined the service after 9/11, and in the breathless heat of Afghanistan he’d been glad of it. Five years. He’d spent five years there. Some nights he was still there....
Suddenly his cell phone belted out Nickelback’s If Today Was Your Last Day . Josh had chosen the song with a nod to two of his buddies who hadn’t made it back.
“Tark here.” He used his nickname from his service days without thinking.
“Who? I’m looking for Josh Talarkoteen.”
“You’ve got the right—Kenzie, is that you?”
>“You remembered my name?”
Hell yeah . He’d only been thinking about her a hundred times a day, trying to come up with an excuse to see her again that wouldn’t make him seem like a stalker. “Of course I did. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got an orphaned wolf here that I need some help with.”
His pleasure at having Kenzie on the other end of the phone was suddenly tempered with apprehension. Every year the Division of Wildlife Conservation was flooded with calls about abandoned animals, and most of the time, the creatures weren’t in need of help at all. It was typical of most mothers to leave their young for periods of time. A mother bear would actually run her young cubs up a tree so she could go fishing. Deer left their fawns in order to feed. As a result, Fish and Game usually ended up with far too many moose calves, fox and raccoon kits, even grizzly cubs that had been “rescued” by well-intentioned people who had no idea they were actually kidnapping the young animals.
A wolf cub, however, was unusual. There hadn’t been a report on one of those for over three years, and the last
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