Distinctly Montana Magazine

D I S T I N C T LY M O N TA N A • S U M M E R 2 0 1 6 78 My biggest fear now, OTHER THAN THAT HE WILL BE DEAD BY THE TIME I GET BACK, IS THAT A LAW ENFORCEMENT RANGER WILL RESPOND OR HAPPEN BY AND "DISPATCH" HIM BEFORE HELP ARRIVES. To my right, low in the verge, there is movement. A head rises and falls back to the ground. "Oh my God, it's a raptor of some kind. It's injured!" I shout to my biologist friend, Eric. Together we watch as it raises its head again. "We have to help that bird!" He jumps out of the car and steps into the grass. e bison are still getting lots of atten- tion and no one else has noticed the bird. "ere's no blood, and his wings look intact," he reports, "I think he can be helped, but we need to get him out of here. He may have been hit by a car." He adds, "It's a juvenile bald eagle." "Stay with him and I'll go call for help!" I drive off towards a spot about three miles away where I know I can get a few bars on my cell phone. I dial 911 and reach park dispatch. "911, what is your emergency?" "I have a wildlife emergency! I'm a guide in the park. ere's an injured eagle by the side of the road. We think he was hit by a vehicle. My friend is a biologist and is with the bird," I add, hoping to be taken seriously. "He thinks he can be helped. May we have permission to transport him?" ere is a tricky park policy involved here. If an animal is injured naturally, no intervention would be allowed. Likely this bird was hit by a vehicle, human caused, and interven- tion would be justified. Plus, bald eagles are protected under the International Migratory Bird Treaty Act. Not unexpectedly, the dispatcher responds, "Do not transport the bird." I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, close my eyes, and sigh. Another bison jam. It's mid-August in Yellowstone National Park. ree cows saunter along the double yellow line, stopping traffic in both directions. A monster diesel truck crawls past in the opposite direction. A dog has squeezed his head through the tangle of outstretched arms holding cameras and phones out the open windows and barks at the bison. I stop because the car in front of me stops and then I see it. By BARBARA ULRICH

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