Over the Edge (11 page)

A
s they drove up the rutted, back-country road, Jack noticed how the scenery had muted into autumn browns—dried grasses and dusty junipers ringed by tiny cactus marching into the distance. He watched with satisfaction as his mother carefully stepped out of Shawn's SUV, with Ashley close behind. Although his mother's face was still marred with bruises, she seemed to be brimming with energy.

“I guess this is the end of the line. Now we walk,” Steven told Jack and Morgan. “It's only been three days since Olivia got out of the clinic. I sure hope she can handle the hike to the release pen.”

“She'll be fine,” Jack told him. “She wouldn't miss this for anything, and she told me she looks worse than she feels.”

“I'm sure you're right. You've got your camera?”

“Of course I've got my camera.”

“Morgan? You have my spare camera?”

“Yeah.” He patted the Minolta 350 strapped across his chest. “I don't know how great a photographer I'll be, but I guess I'll give it a try.”

“That's the spirit,” Steven said, punching Morgan's shoulder in camaraderie. “Let's go.”

It was chilly enough for Jack to be able to see his breath as the six of them began to hike their way toward the release point. Far below, a herd of deer munched lazily, raising their heads one by one to look up the mountainside. Sensing no danger, the deer dropped back to the business of eating. Their racks bobbed like driftwood on water.

“How far did you say this is?” Morgan puffed.

“Another eighth of a mile,” Shawn called over his shoulder. “It's not too far.”

“It's not the distance that's getting to me—it's the fact we're going straight up.” Morgan took a deep breath and added, “I need to get in shape.”

“That's OK, I'll walk with you, Morgan,” Olivia said, dropping back to join him. “I wanted to talk to you for a minute, anyway.” Steven quickly caught up with Shawn, and soon the two men gained a substantial lead ahead of the rest of the group. Shawn's red hair gleamed copper in the sun.

Slowing her pace—whether for Morgan's benefit or her own—Olivia walked shoulder to shoulder with him while Jack and Ashley followed. “First things first: The police called. They were able to get a match on Rawlings' partial print, thanks to the information you gave them. I'm supposed to convey their thanks.”

Morgan flushed, but kept his eyes straight ahead on the path in front of him. “Well, I'm just glad they got him. I think Rawlings is deranged. He needs help.”

“Ms. Lopez was mighty impressed with all you did, I can tell you that.”

Morgan stopped walking. “You called Ms. Lopez?” he asked, staring at Olivia as she nodded. “What did she say?”

“Among other things, she said it must have been hard for you to be blamed for something you didn't do. There's a lot of power in words, Morgan.”

“Ms. Lopez said that?”

“No. That part comes from me.” For a moment, Olivia searched Morgan's face. “I want you to know that I saw the ‘sent message' file on my laptop screen. Nine e-mails posted in the middle of the night went out, all without my permission. Why?”

Morgan flushed and studied the ground. “Did you read them?”

“No. I thought about it, but then I decided I should talk to you instead. I want you to explain why you're back to breaking the rules I laid out concerning the use of my laptop and the Internet. What's going on?”

Morgan shrugged. He moved a rock with the toe of his sneaker, forward and back, until it formed a groove in the dirt.

“Morgan shouldn't have to tell us anything he doesn't want to,” Ashley said defensively. “I trust him. I mean I didn't, but then, I do, I mean
now
I do,” she stammered as two round splotches spread across her cheeks. “Shouldn't we believe in him after all he's done for us?”

“Of course,” Olivia agreed, “but the fact remains that he sneaked my laptop again and—”

“I wrote the people in Dry Creek,” Morgan blurted.

Incredulous, Jack asked, “You
what?”

“I sent an apology to all the people I'd dissed on my Web site.” Shifting uncomfortably, Morgan went on, “I still totally believe in freedom of speech, but…some things have changed. So, I apologized. Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Did anyone write back?” Jack asked.

“Were there any messages for me, Dr. Landon?”

Olivia shook her head no.

“Maybe they all saw my name and hit the delete key. In a way, it doesn't matter.” Narrowing his eyes, he said, “And if you don't believe me, you can read every one of the e-mails I sent. Go ahead and read them. I'm telling you the truth!”

“No, I believe you,” Olivia assured him. She put her arm around Morgan, pulling him close. “I think what you did was wonderful.
You're
wonderful.”

Immediately Morgan extracted himself from her embrace. “We need to get going. Shawn and Mr. Landon are already way up ahead.”

“You think you can go fast enough?” Jack teased.

“Yeah, Morgan, you're wheezing pretty hard,” Ashley chimed in. “Can you make it?”

Pulling himself up to full height, Morgan began to move quickly up the path. “Just watch me.”

They finally reached the wide plateau at the top of the cliffs. Steven and Shawn were deep in discussion, their hands punctuating the air as they talked. Looking up, Steven cried, “Hey, what took you so long?”

“Nothing, we were just talking to our friend,” Ashley called back.

Shawn hoisted his pack onto his shoulder. “I was telling Steven how they found enough lead shot at the dump site to poison a thousand birds. We burned what was left of the carcasses and then buried the ashes. The condors won't be back there.”

“What about other dump sites?” Jack demanded. “Couldn't this whole thing happen all over again?”

“The Cash-for-Carcasses folks said they'd be sure to keep any future dump site at least 100 miles from the Grand Canyon. They were pretty shook up when I told them what had happened.”

“I still hate the hunt,” Ashley said, shaking her head.

“Me, too. But Cash-for-Carcasses said they'd work with us, and that's a start. You ready, Olivia?”

“Absolutely!”

Inside the cover of the green mesh netting, Steven set up his tripod.

“Better attach your telephoto lens,” he instructed Jack. “And be alert. When that condor soars, you need to sweep your camera along its path and shoot as fast as you can. Don't try to conserve film. Just aim and shoot. You too, Morgan.”

“I could work this a lot better if it had a joystick,” Morgan said, fooling with the focus.

“This is better than computers. This is life. Look sharp—you don't want to miss the launch.”

As he had the time before, Jack used his camera lens to track what was happening in the flight pen. When Shawn and Olivia approached, 87 stepped back, its bright eyes lit with curiosity.

“Stay alert,” Steven said. “Shawn's starting to move.”

Shawn had left the pen to walk through the low scrub juniper trees toward the edge of the cliff. Olivia was right behind him.

“Get ready,” Steven told Jack.

Jack wasn't sure what to expect—would Shawn throw the bird into the air? Instead, Shawn set him down about 20 feet from the edge.

Number 87 looked around, then back toward Shawn as if asking his permission. In an instant he started to run—to run, not fly!—like a high jumper gathering momentum. When he reached the edge of the cliff, his wide, outstretched wings caught the air current and off he went! The takeoff was so spectacular that Jack lowered his camera; he wanted to see this with his own eyes, not through a lens.

Four feet long from beak to tip of tail, his black body feathers catching the sun, his massive wings curving like parentheses joined in the middle, Condor 87 looked breathtaking. With the feathers at the end of each wing spread out like eight giant fingers, his wingspan reached nine feet from tip to tip. The white lining of the wings' undersides was clearly visible as he climbed and soared. By the time Jack remembered that he was supposed to be taking pictures, Condor 87 had flown too far for even Jack's telephoto to capture.

“Wasn't that—?” Jack couldn't find a word powerful enough to describe what he'd just seen.

“Cool,” Morgan said, nodding. “It was as good as the very best graphics on my computer—maybe even better.” Raising his fist into the air, Morgan shouted, “Nature rules!”

H
ere I sit on the rim of the most well-known canyon in the world. Peering down 5,000 feet into the main stem of the Colorado, I view a river running red and brown and muddy from spring snowmelt high in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. Crystal-blue skies signal the return of what is fast becoming the annual spring and summer wildlife event in northern Arizona—a must-see for tourists and residents alike. Looking up, I see the blue sky darken as though there has been a sudden, momentary eclipse of the sun. The California condor, gliding on its huge wings, is returning to the South Rim of Grand Canyon National Park.

With its prehistoric appearance, the condor brings goose bumps to my arms and tears to my eyes. This marvel in the sky is a salute to the effectiveness of the Endangered Species Act and a reward to the many biologists and administrators who have toiled over efforts to reintroduce this bird into its natural habitat.
Gymnogyps californianus
—a member of the vulture family that scavenged on mastodons, camels, and bison as it evolved over much of the last ten million years—once soared over a range that extended from Canada to Mexico. By the early 1900s, the California condor had become extremely rare as a result of human activities. Most had been shot or had died from feeding on carcasses contaminated by lead shot, pesticides, or other poisons. To save the condor, biologists started a captive breeding program with birds they removed from the wild. Thanks to that program there are now 284 condors in the world. There are presently 61 wild condors in Arizona, 63 wild condors in California, 12 wild condors in Baja, and 148 condors in captive breeding centers. But California condors are not out of the woods yet.

In
Over the Edge,
Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson create an adventure that is based on more fact than fiction. Unfortunately, condors still suffer from similar human impacts as in the past. Since the beginning of the reintroduction program in 1996, seven condors have died because of lead poisoning, 2 have been shot, and 8 have died of unknown causes. Condors mainly feed on carcasses of deer, elk, and bighorn sheep. During the hunting season, condors mainly feast on the carcasses of game animals or the gut piles left, which are often riddled with lead fragments from the bullets. Although hunting is illegal within the park, there is no way to keep the birds from flying beyond its protective boundaries. But progress is being made and response from the hunting community has been positive. Through extensive hunter outreach programs, nearly 50% of hunters on the Kaibab Plateau in 2006 reported using non-lead ammunition offered by The Peregrine Fund. Hunters also reported packing out their gut pies, taking head or neck shot to ensure a lead-free gut pile, or covering their gut pile in the field to reduce the risk of condors feeding on harmful lead fragments.

There are other human-related threats to the condor's survival. Power poles and lines can electrocute birds that perch on or fly into them. This is why we outfit these lines with devices that will make them “raptor proof.” A more difficult problem is dealing with the birds' natural curiosity. Some birds are attracted to overlooks and buildings frequented by the more than five million people who visit the park each year. Although feeding the birds is strictly prohibited, some people still offer them food. They forget that these birds are wild animals and are capable of snapping at them with their powerful beaks. People food can also make the birds very sick or encourage them to hang out in areas where they could be harmed by human activities. Birds that seem to like to hang out with people are recaptured and returned to the Peregrine Fund facility for a little more “growing up” time.

The employment of devices that use satellites to track condors promises to be a giant step toward our goal of making the environment safe for these birds. As you learned in the story, condors in the park currently are fitted with radio tags. Satellite tracking provides a record of each bird's daily activities—where it flies, roosts, feeds, and perches. All condors in Arizona are now fitted with these devices.

In spring 2001, condors came one step closer to recovery. A single egg was laid in a cave on a steep cliff in a remote section of Grand Canyon National Park. Since that exciting time, a total of five condors have fledged in the wild in Arizona and two have fledged in the wild in California. As exciting and hopeful as the wild breeding of a species once on the brink of extinction can be, we still have a lot of work to do as humans to ensure the future of this magnificent species. We must continue to work with hunters to make sure they use non-lead alternatives for bullets, educate the public on not feeding or directly harming these birds, and hold our federal representatives responsible for enforcing environmental protection laws. When we as humans achieve these goals, the condor as a species will have a chance to truly recover and we will have achieved a victory.

Elaine F. Leslie
Wildlife Biologist
Grand Canyon National Park

An award-winning mystery writer and an
award-winning science writer—who are also mother and
daughter—are working together on
Mysteries in Our National Parks!

ALANE (LANIE) FERGUSON'S
first mystery,
Show Me the
Evidence,
won the Edgar Award, given by the
Mystery Writers of America.

GLORIA SKURZYNSKI'S
Almost the Real Thing
won the
American Institute of Physics Science Writing Award.

Lanie lives in Elizabeth, Colorado. Gloria lives in Boise,
Idaho. To work together on a novel, they
connect by phone, fax, and e-mail and “often forget
which one of us wrote a particular line.”

Gloria's e-mail: [email protected]

Her Web site:
www.gloriabooks.com

Lanie's e-mail: [email protected]

Her Web site:
www.alaneferguson.com