CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Reggie’s return to school on Monday was, as one can imagine, considerably more friendly. Reggie and Stephanie instantly became the hottest couple in school and the hiking club doubled its membership. When Reggie asked around about Kevin, one of his old buddies told him that Kevin was in foster care. At least he’s safe, Reggie thought, but wondered if he’d ever get out of that choke-hold of violence.
There was only one thing now that was bothering Reggie—his dad. Reggie wanted him to come with his mom to the wildlife corridor conference on Thursday, knowing he needed a break from his hospital room. But his dad kept declining, saying that that meeting was all about Joe and Reggie’s efforts. Reggie pleaded with him, but John kept begging off saying he was proud of him, but that he didn’t play a part.
On the day of the conference, Joe picked up Reggie early so they could prepare their testimony. By the time they got into the conference room it was already packed with many others who were going to give testimony, politicians, the public and lots of press. As soon as Reggie and Joe sat down, the Commissioner of Fish and Game, Mr. Callahan, jumped down from the podium and came over to greet them.
“Good to see you, Reggie,” Mr. Callahan said, smiling and pumping Reggie’s hand like a circus clown. “You, too, Joe,” giving him a quick nod. “I want to thank you, Reggie, for all you’ve done for us. I look forward to your testimony.”
“Okay, sure,” Reggie said before turning to Joe with a ‘what was that all about?’ look on his face.
“I think he’s hoping the press coverage will lift the standing of his department in Sacramento,” Joe whispered.
The conference kicked off with various conservationists who argued that humans needed to balance consumption and growth with the respect for nature and the health of our planet.
Broad thinking, Reggie thought.
Then came the spokesperson from an organization called The People for Responsible Growth, who argued that Southern California is in a housing shortage and the area needed to first invest in an improved infrastructure if the region wanted to be viable in the future.
Developers and contractors, Reggie figured.
Then the National Rifle Makers Association lawyers argued for repealing the California statute that gave mountain lions protection from hunting. They came out in favor of the corridor if it meant more lions and that they could hunt them in the Santa Monica Mountains.
The gun manufacturers sure suck a lot of hunters into their bullshit, Reggie thought.
The Mountain Lion Foundation spokespeople made an eloquent statement that humans needed to protect cougars because they, more than any other animal, represented the freedom and independence that the nation was founded on.
Huh! Reggie thought, they represented a lot more than that to the Native Americans.
When the conference moved into the second half to discuss funding and building the wildlife corridor in the Santa Monica Mountains, Joe was introduced to describe the result of his department’s ten year study of the mountain lions. Both Reggie and Joe moved into the front row facing the microphones.
Joe presented detailed charts and maps showing how the cougar population was trapped by highways, and how increased development and the lack of genetic diversity from new lions could result in more in-breeding and ultimately, the demise of their own tiny population.
At the conclusion of Joe’s testimony, the commissioner thanked him, and then addressed the crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I want to now introduce a colleague of Mr. Sartor’s—a special guest who also has firsthand knowledge of our mountain lions. I’m sure by now, everyone in this room knows of this young man’s remarkable rescue of his high school hiking club. Mr. Reggie Youngblood! Please stand up, Reggie.”
The whole room stood up and clapped a thunderous applause. The TV camera zoomed in and the camera flashes blinded Reggie. The more they clapped, the weaker Reggie’s legs felt. The commissioner finally raised his hand and motioned for everyone to sit. Reggie was relieved, but still nervous.
“First, Mr. Youngblood,” Mr. Callahan said, “on behalf of the citizens of our great state, I’d like to personally thank you for your courage and leadership. You’ve set a fine example for young people everywhere.” After allowing a few more photos, Mr. Callahan asked the press to clear the area so Reggie could speak.
“Thanks again for coming, Mr. Youngblood, could I ask you what your feelings are about the proceedings today?”
Reggie fidgeted with the microphone, and then said, “I want to say that I really didn’t rescue my friends from the lion. I mean, I knew he wasn’t going to attack us.”
Looking surprised, Mr. Callahan asked, “Interesting, how did you know that?”
“Well, humans are not his prey and the lion saw the power and the numbers of us and he backed off. And, I’m happy to say that Joe is still tracking P12, who’s roaming free in our mountains.”
The crowd began to whisper and Mr. Callahan regained control by asking, “Thanks, Reggie. Can I ask you if you think we ought to consider building a wildlife corridor?”
“Well,” Reggie said after a pause. “Yes.” Everyone wanted to hear more, but Reggie simply rested back on his chair.
Mr. Callahan waited a few moments more, and then asked,
“Could you tell us why?”
Joe gave Reggie an encouraging nod.
“Well,” Reggie started. “I guess it’s due to my views of our two species and how they relate to each other. I think if you believe that the human animal species is superior to all other animals, then you’d consider mountain lions an inferior species. And I think that would be like…like being a racist.”
You could hear a muffled gasp from the audience. Most shuffled uncomfortably in their seats and looked around the room.
“Okay,” Mr. Callahan said nervously, “Can you elaborate?”
“I believe the cougar is a fellow species, an equal member of our global community of animals.” Then Reggie grabbed the microphone and leaned in, “And they have as much a right to live and survive as we do.”
Silence came over the crowd. The commissioner wanted to move back to the subject at hand and asked, “Do you think we can afford to build the corridor?”
“Yes,” Reggie replied. “We’ve already re-shaped the cougar’s natural habitat in Southern California with cities and freeways to suit our needs. I think now we can afford to re-shape a tiny bit back for an animal that was here thousands of years before we showed up.”
Mr. Callahan jumped in, “It sounds like you’re making a moral argument for the corridor?”
Reggie sat back in his chair, feeling like he had already been saying too much, but then looked at Joe, got a smile, and leaned forward again. “I guess I am. With our superior intelligence, technology, and resources, if we can’t help preserve a much less powerful species, then maybe we won’t be able to preserve ourselves.”
The audience remained silent for a moment, expecting Mr. Callahan to speak, but then a single clap was heard way back in the standing-room-only corner of the room. Reggie looked back to see his dad had come and was the one who started the clapping. Soon, everyone followed, and Reggie was back to another standing ovation.
Above the din of the crowd, the commissioner spoke as loud as he could, saying, “Thank you, Mr. Youngblood, for your input.”
The audience continued clapping and the press rushed in for photos and comments. Reggie gave them short, polite answers, and then he and Joe left to see Reggie’s parents.
Joe said, “Thanks, Reggie, you did a great job.”
Reggie shook his hand. “Thank you for mentoring me. Do you think the news coverage will help?”
“Absolutely!” Joe replied. They continued through the crowd and finally reached the corner where Reggie’s parents were. Reggie’s mom hugged him in her usual uber-exuberant way. This time, Reggie didn’t tell her he was choking. While she held on, he could see Joe and his dad finish talking and his dad tapped his mom on the shoulder.
“May I have the next hug?” he asked, smiling.
“Glad you came, Dad,” Reggie said.
“Me, too.”
In the middle of the bear hug, his dad whispered in Reggie’s ear, “Can we go out in the hallway and talk for a bit? Is that okay?”
“Sure, Dad.”
John gestured to Carole, waved off a reporter, and they found a bench down the hallway.
“First, I want to say,” his dad started, then halted.
“Are you mad at me about the guns?” Reggie jumped in.
“No. I want to thank you for saving me, giving me another chance… and…” His dad looked down trying to bring up the next words. “I… I didn’t want to come here because… because I felt Joe was a better man than I was. You know, because I tried to teach you to hunt animals, not protect them.”
Reggie could see how low his dad felt. Reggie didn’t picture in his mind the shooting of the wounded deer. This time he remembered the way his dad would thank any animal he just killed and bless it by placing some grass in its mouth.
“It’s not like that, Dad. It was you who showed me the beauty of animals. You taught me how to respect them in the old Indian way. Joe only gave me a direction.”
His dad stared dumfounded at his son, then finally said, “It’s bigger than that, Reggie.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry for all the years I didn’t listen to you.” Rubbing his temples and taking a deep breath, he continued, “I’m sorry for trying to make you into somebody you aren’t.”
“I’m glad you see that now, Dad.”
Taking another deep breath, his dad said, “Took me way too long.” Then he pointed at the conference room and said, “But you got here all on your own. Your great grandmother Wanchuat would be so proud of you. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Dad. We better get back to Mom.”
The crowds were still mulling around the hallway when the two of them reached his mom.
“You guys have a good talk?”
“Yeah. We’re cool.” Reggie said as he smiled at his dad.
“She’s here, Reggie,” his mom said, tilting her head toward the crowd.
“Stephanie?” Reggie almost screamed.
“Yup, I recognized her from the TV.”
Reggie made his way through the crowd and when they spotted each other, ran and hugged. Reggie lifted her off the floor and twirled her around. Facing his Mom, Reggie held up his hand, smiled at her and snapped his fingers.