Catron County’s ranching community plays the
unhappy wife, who never wanted to have Mexican wolves in the first
place. She believes her husband, Fish and Wildlife, only loves her for
her habitat, and has deliberately ignored the danger wolves pose to
people, concealed information about their whereabouts, clandestinely
removed evidence of wolf-killed livestock, and failed to compensate her
for losses. Oh, he’s also a bleeding-heart animal lover, whose staff and
volunteers “were seen crying when one of the wolves in the program had
to be killed.”
The husband claims that he has bent over
backwards to accommodate his wife’s extreme lupophobia. There are no
documented cases of wolf attacks in the Southwest, he says, and he’s
only withheld information to protect the wolves from possible abuse. As
one federal leader told investigators, “Some staff might have been
apprehensive about speaking with ranchers they considered ‘mean.’ ”
The report seems to lead to one conclusion:
Due to irreconcilable differences, this partnership is doomed, and so is
the Mexican wolf. But that’s not what contributing editor Cally
Carswell finds reporting this issue’s cover story. The wolves are too
closely related, and without new blood, they could eventually struggle
to reproduce. Unfortunately, some of the most genetically diverse
individuals have been killed because of conflicts with ranchers. Wolves
raised in contained breeding facilities sometimes have trouble adapting
to life in a vast landscape — especially one filled with cows.
Despite this, some progress is being made to reduce tensions...
1 comment:
Com'on, Frank. NOBODY in Catron County gets rich -- not-even scum-sucking bottom fee..., er, I mean lawyers.
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