“I will,” she told him, holding out her hand. And then he surprised her by pulling her into a hug. She smelled his alluring scent again. Her chin rested briefly on his warm neck, and he held on to her for a little longer than a casual hug would last.
Then he cleared his throat and pulled away. “I’ll call and check on you.”
“Okay. Have a good flight.”
He gave a small wave and got into the Honda. She watched as he turned around and drove down the driveway, giving her one last wave.
She sighed, watching him go. She was all alone now, something she’d been looking forward to. Solitude, a chance to think, a chance to hike and clear her head, a chance to look for wolverines.
A solitude of wolverines.
Going inside and locking the lodge door behind her, Alex stepped into the darkened lobby. She flicked on a light and checked her watch: 9:14 p.m. That was 11:14 p.m. Boston time, and she yawned.
Grabbing her pack, she headed upstairs to the first room. It was chilly in there, but she knew once she was under the covers, it would be toasty. Brushing her teeth and changing into her pajamas, she considered the day ahead of her. She’d go back to town to the hardware store, then if she returned in time, hike out and build the first camera trap.
She climbed into bed, stretching out under the cool sheets, and powered up her tablet to brush up on current wolverine research.
While she’d always been fascinated by them, like most people, she’d never seen a wolverine in the wild. Not only was their population density low in any given area, but they frequented steep terrain that lay beneath many feet of snow in the winter. Not exactly places where humans tended to go. Climbing was nothing to a wolverine. If a jagged, near-vertical mountain lay directly in its path, it simply climbed straight up and straight back down, even if that meant summiting a peak that would take humans days to conquer with ropes and climbing gear.
Wolverines walked and loped, ran and cavorted. They averaged 4 miles per hour no matter what the terrain looked like, be it level and bare or deeply covered in snow or almost vertical. Researchers in Glacier National Park had once recorded a wolverine summiting Mount Cleveland, the tallest peak in the park, astounded as it climbed the last 4,900 vertical feet in only ninety minutes. Another had traveled 220 miles in only thirteen days.
Wolverines had a feisty reputation. Capable of fighting off grizzly bears, they stalked the snowy woods, looking for food, always on the move. Able to conquer prey many times their size, wolverines had been known to take down animals as large as moose. They could fight off several wolves at once and were known to eat everything on a carcass, even the bones and teeth. And this fearsome reputation belonged to an animal that weighed an average of only thirty-five pounds.
The description of the wolverine’s diet from the field guide she’d brought along sounded like Bugs Bunny describing the diet of the Tasmanian Devil: porcupines, hares, beavers, marmots, ground squirrels, caribou, moose, berries, plants, eggs, roots, and carrion, including deer, wild sheep, elk, and birds. Wolverines would even go for old dried bones that had been lying out on the forest floor for multiple seasons.
Females denned in deep snow, often as far down as ten feet, and relied on the insulation and protection of a healthy snowpack to raise their kits. But as the earth warmed due to anthropogenic climate change, the amount of snowpack was being reduced, and there was concern that wolverines would not be able to den in many of the sites they’d used in the past. Descendants of a giant Ice Age weasel, the wolverine used to be found as far south as New Mexico, but now they had vanished from much of their historical range.
Wanting to formulate a concise plan for how she’d undertake her population study, she leaned back on her pillow. Tales of wolverine researchers had provided riveting reading for her over the years. Hearty souls who loved snow and the backcountry, many of them skied in high-altitude, deeply snowed-in areas, searching for the elusive predators. Dedicated wildlife cinematographers hid in blinds for weeks at a time, hoping to capture footage of wolverines at carcass sites. Wolverine research called for a certain type of person who was okay with long hours alone navigating rugged terrain.
It suited her perfectly.
Population studies frequently involved live-trapping wolverines. Large cages were constructed of logs, and the trap closed when the wolverine tugged on a piece of meat inside. As the trap swung shut, a message was sent to researchers that something was in the trap. Biologists then had to leave immediately to hike out to the animal. Wolverines had such high metabolisms that in a short period of time, their body heat would melt the surrounding snow, making them wet and vulnerable to hypothermia.
After hurrying out to the trap, researchers would lift the trapdoor open just a crack via a cable and peer bravely into the dark confines of the cage. Sometimes they got foxes, martens, fishers, and lynx, but they’d know almost instantly from the growling if there was a wolverine inside. Through the crack, one researcher would jab the animal with a dose of tranquilizers. Once sedated, the wolverine would be tagged with a surgically implanted radio transmitter. GPS and radio collars were of little use because wolverines were notorious for tearing them off after a few days.
Biologists then waited for the sedated wolverine to wake up and become active. Leaving tranquilized wolverines alone was unacceptable, as they could be prey for wolves or succumb to hypothermia. So researchers hung out and chatted until the animal woke up. Then they’d lift the trapdoor. Despite their snarling and pacing, wolverines weren’t prone to immediately jump out. Instead they’d weigh the situation, decide the coast was clear, and dart out, running to safety.
Alex had already decided her study would involve a different kind of trap. She didn’t have the extra manpower to live-trap wolverines, so she had decided on the less invasive method she’d described to Ben, one that involved setting up a bait station to photograph visiting wolverines and snaring their hair for DNA.
After jotting down more notes, she started to nod off. She’d gotten so little sleep the night before that her body ached for rest. Setting aside her tablet, she picked up a paperback novel that she’d bought at the Denver airport during her layover. She’d been in an exciting part when the plane landed, wondering what would happen next. But before she’d read even a paragraph, she was asleep, the book falling onto her chest.
The book’s thump woke her with a start, and for a second she had the eerie feeling that someone was in the room with her. Vengeful ghosts. She glanced around, her heart rate slowing, and then put the book on the bedside table and switched off the light. But she struggled to fall back asleep.
Wind whistled through the boarded-up windows on this floor, and she couldn’t fight the feeling that she was now in a strange and maybe unwelcoming place.
Four
The next morning, Alex stepped out of the shower, drying her hair with one of the new fluffy towels Ben had placed in the laundry room. The lodge’s old towels were still stacked next to the new ones. Threadbare and thin, the old towels reminded her of those at her grandmother’s house. Growing up during the Depression, her grandmother had never wanted to waste anything, so she held on to her linens in spite of frayed edges and holes worn in the sheets.
Alex dressed quickly, the second floor of the lodge chilly. As she pulled on her jeans, movement outside drew her attention to the window. She looked down toward the front of the lodge, where she’d parked the Willys Wagon when she’d returned from hanging out with Ben in Bitterroot.