The Healer

by Daniel P. Mannix

  For a long time Billy had seen no sign of the game warden and had decided that the man had given up the hunt. Then one evening Abe Zook took Billy frogging in the swamp.

  "I am remembering the time when a man could make seventy-five, maybe one hundred dollars frogging," Abe Zook told the boy, as they headed toward the swamp with two long, thin frog spears, a lantern, and two burlap sacks. In addition, Zook was carrying a pair of hip boots. "Now that is all gone."

  "Don't people want frogs anymore?"

  "It is not that, all I am getting I can sell. There are not so many frogs. The swamps are being drained and with the water goes the frogs. Once many times you were getting frogs weighing a pound or more. That is seldom now."

  "Do you ever eat frogs' legs yourself?"

  "Once I ate many. They are part way between fish and chicken. Now, I get paid so much I cannot afford to eat them. Not only restaurants want them, but also colleges. Students cut them up to see what is in them. Why they are wanting to know that, I cannot tell."

  The sweet, hot scent of the marsh came to them even before they could see it. The black water reflected the stars except where the clumps of water lilies broke the dancing images. Everywhere was the hum of insects, and Billy resigned himself to being badly bitten by the mosquitoes that moaned around him. They could hear the deep bass of the bullfrogs, as well as the shriller notes of the pickerel frogs. Billy stood slapping mosquitoes until Abe Zook had pulled on his boots. Billy took off his shoes and trousers and waded into the inky water.

  They moved slowly and as quietly as they could, Abe Zook holding the lantern. Occasionally they would hear a frightened croak followed by a splash, but Billy was quite sure that these were only small grass frogs they didn't want anyhow. Ahead came the profound "jug-o'-run" of a bullfrog, and as they moved toward the sound, the light picked up the white throat of a big frog sitting on the bank.

  "The lantern hold," whispered Abe Zook. Billy took the lantern and saw the tip of the frog spear move into the fan of light. Zook advanced it slowly toward the frog, who seemed dazed by the glare. Then he struck. There was a convulsive kicking and the frog went into the bag.

  "There is another over there. Listen once!" said Zook. Again they moved toward the sound, Billy slipping on the slimy stones and sinking into the mud. Before they could reach the frog, there came the wail of a siren.

  "What is that for now?" said Zook angrily. The siren came closer. Now they could see the lights of a car moving along the road.

  "It's the warden. Can he arrest us?" asked Billy preparing to douse the lantern.

  "We are doing nothing. That Jim Stoltzfoos has a foolishness. What is he about?"

  They continued to listen. Then in answer to the siren came the wailing not only of Wolf but also the coypups. They must have been in a little valley, for the sound reverberated back and forth from the sides, making it impossible to tell exactly where the animals were. But that they were there was certain.

  "He has found them," said Abe Zook.

  Billy did not answer. He knew that this was the end of Blackie, Wolf, and their family. The warden would not be put off again.

  EIGHT

  When they got home that night and put the evening's catch in the springhouse, Abe Zook said to the boy, "You are thinking that I do not know how you are feeling, yet I do. You are not liking people, nor do I. We both are feeling more for animals. Animals are nicer than people, not making such demands on you. Yet with people we have to live. I am an old man and when I was growing up, things were making different. I could live alone with my animals. That is no longer possible. You will have to live with people."

  "No, I won't," said Billy sullenly. "I'm going to get a house like yours and live 'way off in the country where there aren't any people."

  "You think so now, but later it will be different. You are seeing the end of wildcrafting, when a man could live off the country. It is almost dead. When it goes, something wonderful will go with it. But the world is changing."

  "You mean there won't be any more animals?"

  "That I did not say, but it will be different. You will have to learn the new ways and cannot dream as you do now—yes, as I have always done. It is hard to break away from the comfort of dreams, yet it must be done."

  "And let Wolf and Blackie and the pups be killed by that game warden?"

  Abe Zook did not answer for a while. Then he said, "You will see what I mean. I wish I could spare you some of the pain, yet it seems each must learn for himself."

  They said no more, but it was a long time before Billy could get to sleep that night.

  Wolf and his family seldom used the den now. They spent most of their time lying-up in the woods. The warden was still looking for them, for Billy often saw the man with his rifle, walking slowly along Wolf's paths, stopping occasionally to bend over and check for signs. Wolf generally followed a fixed route, going from familiar object to familiar object because of his comparatively short sight. He always crossed a road or a stream at the same spot and when running a ridge, kept to one side of it, but near enough to the crest so he could look over now and then. Billy knew Wolf's paths almost as well as the coyote did, and he unhappily realized that the warden was getting to know them too.

  One morning after a thunderstorm, Billy was following the course of a stream that came from a spring on the side of the ridge. During a rain, garnets and bits of petrified wood were often washed off the slope where the stream had cut deep into the hillside. With a little polishing, Zook could sell these to souvenir shops that catered to the tourist trade. Occasionally the boy would find fossil shells or pieces of shale with the imprint of prehistoric leaves on them, and these were especially valuable. From his position on the hill, Billy could see the road far below him. On this morning, he saw a cloud of dust that blew like smoke from the road, marking the passing of a car. Billy straightened up to watch it and recognized the warden's jeep.

  The jeep came to a stop and Jim Stoltzfoos got out. He had no gun and to Billy's surprise he came up the hill, following the course of the stream. Billy considered hiding, but he was doing nothing illegal so he continued to look for specimens while waiting for the man to reach him.

  The warden took much longer to climb the slope than Billy expected and when he finally appeared, he smiled cheerfully and said, "Hi, son, Abe Zook said you'd be here. I picked up some garnets for you. A couple of them are pretty near gem stones."

  He held out a handful of the dull, reddish stones. "Well, thanks," said Billy, uncertain how to behave. He put the stones in his pocket and keep on looking.

  Jim Stoltzfoos sat down on a rock and watched him. After a few moments the man said, "Billy, I've found the den."

  Billy felt sick, but he tried to show no reaction. All he said was, "Well?"

  "Yes, it's down by the swamp." Billy had a quick surge of relief. "It's by the big sycamore there in an old fox earth. I'm telling you this so you'll know I really have found it."

  Billy knew the place that the warden meant, but Wolf's den under the beech roots was high up on the same ridge where they were standing. He asked, "How do you know it's the right den?"

  "I saw the coyote carrying food there. That old fellow must be getting careless. I could have sworn he knew that I was following him, yet he went straight to the den and left a woodchuck right at the mouth. Billy, I'm going to have to gas that den."

  Billy nearly told him to gas all he wanted to, but he restrained himself. He felt a moment of panic, wondering if Wolf had left the den under the fallen beech and moved to this new spot. Why else would he be carrying food there? But he was sure that the family had not moved— only the day before he had seen them near the beech den and the half-grown pups seldom used any den now. So he only said, "Why tell me?"

  "I want you to know what I'm going to do and I want you to realize why I have to do it. I'm not a monster, Billy. When those coydogs get big enough, they'll start killing stock. You know that, don't you?"

  "Wolf and Blacki
e aren't killing any stock. It was the dogs."

  "Now, Billy, you know they take chickens and they've killed sheep."

  "Not many."

  "What about the people who own that stock. Haven't they got any rights?"

  Billy was silent.

  "When these coydogs grow up, they'll form a pack and then there really will be trouble. Can't you see that?"

  Billy pretended to be persuaded. "Well, I guess you're right. I guess you'll have to gas that den."

  Stoltzfoos was silent for a time. "Are you going to go there and scare them off like you did last time?"

  "No, sir, I promise. I won't do a thing."

  The warden rose slowly. "I know you've something in mind. I came up here to talk to you and try to get you to see things my way. I wish there was something else I could do, but there isn't. I'm sorry for those pups, and if you have any ideas how to save them without letting them run loose, I'll listen to you."

  "No, my uncle says the same thing. I guess it's got to be done."

  "I'm afraid you don't really mean that. Anyhow, you promise you won't interfere?"

  "I promise."

  "Good. And don't forget, Billy, if I can help you in any way, you let me know. I'm not here to kill animals; I'm trying to help them—only sometimes you don't have any choice."

  Billy watched him go and when the man was well away, the boy cut across the ridge to the beech root den. He moved slowly and called. There was a frightened crashing in the bushes as the pups ran off, and then he saw Blackie. The dog came toward him with wagging head and dancing motion of forepaws but would not let the boy touch her. There was no sign of Wolf.

  Well, at least the family had not moved to the sycamore den. Billy went down the ridge to the swamp and followed the path around the marsh until he came to the sycamore. There was the woodchuck, now surrounded by a halo of buzzing blow flies, and beside it a Muscovy duck, freshly killed. As the Muscovy was a domestic duck and must have been taken from some farmer's barnyard, Billy threw it into the bushes so the warden would not see it. Then he started back to the farm. He was confused and told Abe Zook what had happened.

  The old man gave a satisfied chuckle. "That Jim Stoltzfoos is not a fool, I give him that, but he is not so smart after all. I tell you, boy, a wolf will do that—sometimes a fox also. He takes food to an empty den to fool a man who is following him."

  "Are they really that smart?"

  "Well, that is hard saying. They make many dens; maybe for fun, maybe so if something happens they have a place to move the family. By now, the wolf is used to taking food to a den, so maybe by now it is a habit. Maybe he had the food in his mouth and was taking it to his family when he found the man was following him, so he took it to an empty den instead and left it. Still, that is fooling the man, is it not?"

  The next evening Billy saw where the warden had dug out the den under the sycamore and wondered what the man had thought when he found it had not been occupied. Meanwhile, Billy had several chances of watching Wolf and Blackie teaching the pups how to hunt. The pups were almost as big as their parents by now, and it seemed to Billy high time that they learned how to shift for themselves. Apparently the pups did not agree with him. They were quite content to allow Wolf and Blackie to supply them with food.

  The coydogs were impetuous and charged straight on at anything they saw. Billy began to realize for the first time how closely Wolf and Blackie had learned to work together and how dependent they were on each other. Except for mice, which were Wolf's specialty, nearly all the game they caught was taken by one animal driving the quarry toward the other. It was usually Blackie who did the driving while Wolf waited in ambush. Billy guessed that this was partly because Blackie could trail better than Wolf and partly because the coyote was better at hiding.

  When Wolf ran, he seemed to Billy to go swifter than thought, but the boy came to realize that the coyote was not especially fast as wild animals go. He could not run down a rabbit in a straightaway race. Usually he did not even try. The rabbits laid up in forms in the open meadows, and if Wolf or Blackie happened to put one up, they would make no attempt to chase the bunny, only checked the form. The rabbit usually returned to the form later and, perhaps the next day., the pair would hunt the same meadow. When they approached the form, Wolf would swing away and take his stand along the route where the rabbit had run the previous day. When he was well hidden, Blackie would openly trot toward the form. When the rabbit bolted, she would give chase to make sure that the rabbit's attention was focused on her. Often the rabbit would run right into Wolf's waiting jaws.

  They used a similar technique to catch woodchucks. They knew where all the woodchuck dens were in their range. The groundhogs had little fear, because they could always dive down their holes, so they would often sit up on their hind legs and chatter as the dog and the coyote went past. Only if the canines came too close would a chuck go down his hole, and then the fat, brown rodent would reappear in a few seconds when he thought the hunters had gone by.

  Wolf and Blackie knew all about the chucks' habits. One evening Billy saw Blackie crossing a field of clover by herself. It was so unusual for the dog to be out alone that the boy stopped to watch. Blackie walked very casually past a hole where a particularly bad-tempered chuck lived. The chuck sat on his mound of earth, cursing her, but when the dog came closer, the chuck discreetly retreated into the hole. Instantly Wolf broke from a tangle of honeysuckle, and running softly and lightly, crouched down among the clover a few feet from the hole while Blackie continued on her way. As soon as the dog had passed, the chuck stuck his head out of the hole. Seeing the retreating form of the dog, he came out all the way and sat up, scolding as usual. Billy could see the clover tremble slightly as Wolf came closer. Then there was a sudden rush. As usual when Wolf made his attack,

  Blackie promptly wheeled around and came rushing over in case she might be needed, but Wolf had the chuck by the back of the neck, and her help was not necessary.

  The pups either could not or would not learn teamwork. They seemed to have no patience. Billy had the idea that both Wolf and Blackie were growing increasingly worried about them. Before she had gone wild, Blackie had probably been trained by a man and was used to obeying orders. When she took up with Wolf, she had simply transferred her loyalty from the owner to the coyote and accepted him as leader. The pups would obey neither their father nor their mother. They were fast becoming very powerful animals, and Billy wondered if even Wolf was not secretly afraid of them. Even though they were unable to catch food for themselves, the pups seemed to be growing increasingly contemptuous of their parents. They accepted the food that Wolf and Blackie brought in as their right and clearly felt that the older animals had no function except to support them. Angrily, Billy wondered why the coydogs could not realize that someday they would have to be on their own, and if they did not learn the skills that would enable them to survive in the wild, they would be helpless.

  To Billy, the coydogs seemed simply stupid and selfish. He would have liked to have talked to Abe Zook or even the game warden about them, but he knew that both men were convinced that the coydogs would grow up to be a menace and, to Billy, this was unfair. He did not know that both men had seen coydogs before and realized the problem. Feral dogs are large, powerful animals who require a great deal of food and must therefore pull down large game. To do this, they hunt in packs. The only such quarry available in Pennsylvania were deer, and in the wilder parts of the state, packs of dogs gone wild do great destruction among the deer herds. In more settled areas, there are not enough deer to provide food for them and they must turn to killing livestock.

  Coyotes have a much more varied diet than dogs and in summer, at least, much of their food is vegetable. They are expert at catching small game, which dogs cannot do. Blackie would have been unable to shift for herself without Wolf's help in providing her with meat. The coydogs were neither stupid nor selfish. Their dog blood had made them larger and more aggressive than Wolf and thei
r instinct was to hunt in a pack, pulling down large game rather than picking up mice and rabbits. They were simply incapable of learning to hunt like their father, and their inexperience and size gave them a confidence that could easily turn into pointless destruction.

  In spite of their devotion, Wolf and Blackie were beginning to show signs of irritation with their overbearing offspring. They went hunting by themselves more and more, and frequently did not bother to bring back food for the coydogs. Now, Billy felt, the coydogs would begin to see the error of their ways and settle down to learning hunting skills. One, indeed, did. He was the runt of the litter and perhaps for that reason had always stayed closer to his parents than did the others. The other pups ignored and even bullied him, but to Billy, he seemed the smartest of the lot. As far as Billy could tell, the Runt was the first of the litter to make a kill.