Mysteries in Our National Parks: Valley of Death: A Mystery in Death Valley National Park. Gloria Skurzynski
maybe meant “OK” or just “I don’t care” or “whatever.”
Once again the five of them were back in the Land Cruiser, this time with Leesa in the middle of the backseat between Jack and Ashley. She sat stiffly, being super careful that not a single part of her would brush against Jack, not even the edge of her sneaker. Jack had the feeling that if she’d had room to move even farther away from him, she’d have jumped at the chance. Not that he was at all anxious to make contact with this girl. Leesa was a high school freshman who probably considered Jack, an eighth grader, far down on the social scale. Besides, she already had a boyfriend, named Aaron. Not that Jack would ever want to be her boyfriend….
His thoughts were interrupted by his mother, who turned to tell them, “This morning I found out something that’s going to interest you, but first I want to give you some background information.”
Trust their mother to create a buildup like that and then make them wait for the exciting part. “Go ahead,” Jack said.
“As you know,” Olivia began, “I’m here because a few desert bighorn sheep have died mysteriously. There were no outside signs of trauma on the sheep, so we’re suspecting it might have been something they ate, or an infection transmitted to them from some other animal. Sheep are fairly sensitive to diseases from other species.”
Ashley leaned forward, interested, as always, in endangered wildlife. Leesa stared straight ahead.
“They found three sheep that had been dead long enough that not much remained of the carcasses—it takes no more than two days for even a large carcass like a sheep’s to be picked clean, down to the skeleton, by coyotes or ravens or mountain lions or all of the above. But they found one sheep in the throes of death, and were able to get a blood sample before it died. That’s what I’m waiting for—the analysis of that blood sample.”
Olivia seemed to be taking longer than usual to reach the point, but from the look on her face, she was getting closer.
“Well, now,” she said, “bighorn sheep don’t have many real enemies, but they do have competitors for food and water—the burros.”
“You mean like the gold miners brought in a long time ago?” Ashley chimed in. “The ranger was telling me all about them. When the mines ran out and the miners gave up and went home, they left their burros behind, here in Death Valley.”
“Right. And the burros multiplied and multiplied and multiplied some more until there were several thousand of them in and around Death Valley. They’re tough, feisty little critters that can live in a climate like this, but when there got to be so many of them, they ruined the area for the bighorn sheep. The burros trample vegetation and pollute the water supply.”
Jack thought his mother should have been a schoolteacher. Nothing delighted her more than explaining things to kids, especially if the subject happened to be animals. Her eyes would light up, and she’d make everything come alive. But maybe that was because she was talking about animals—her real love.
When Olivia handled any species—dogs or wolves, elk or deer, horses or even manatees—her touch was expert and yet gentle. It was as though animals knew they could put their trust in her. And so did the foster kids who stayed with the Landons. They found Olivia sympathetic and understanding.
She continued, “Since burros are exotic animals—” Olivia interrupted herself to explain to Leesa, “That means they aren’t native to Death Valley. And because they had a bad impact on the ecosystem and the desert bighorn sheep, National Park policy decreed that the burros had to go.”
“How’d they get rid of them?” Jack wanted to know.
A shadow crossed Olivia’s face. “A lot of them were removed by direct reduction. That’s a polite way of saying they were shot. Others were trapped and removed. Then, in the 1980s, the park joined with the Bureau of Land Management in an Adopt-a-Burro program. People could adopt them and take them home to ride, or for work, or just for pets—but not, heaven forbid, to sell to slaughterhouses.”
Leesa moved forward, listening intently.
“How’d they get the burros, Mom?” Ashley asked. “Did they come here to the park and say, ‘You! The brown burro with the big ears. I’ll take you.’”
Steven laughed at that. “I wish it was that easy. I used to round up horses when I lived on a ranch, and they never moved along without an argument.”
In Zion National Park, Jack had watched his father capture a wild horse, but that wouldn’t have qualified as a roundup. “Is that how they get the burros for adoption?” he asked. “They round them up?”
“Uh-huh. Of course, they can’t capture all of them that way,” Olivia explained. “The ones that live way up in the mountains may be too hard to reach and—well, sometimes they still have to rely on direct reduction.”
“Shooting,” Leesa murmured.
“It’s an emotional issue that nobody likes to deal with,” Olivia explained, “but you have to realize that wild burros tend to damage the environment pretty badly, especially for the bighorn sheep….” Then Olivia brightened. “But wild burro roundups save the lives of anywhere from two to three hundred burros a year. And guess when the next wild burro roundup is going to happen—right here in the park. The day after tomorrow!”
She’d finally made it to the exciting part, and it really had been worth the wait. That is, if—“Will we still be here? Where in the park? Can we watch it?” Jack and Ashley demanded, peppering their mother with questions.
“Yes, we’ll still be here, and to your last question, maybe,” Olivia answered. “Or maybe not. These roundups are carefully organized by the park and the BLM, with trained wranglers and helicopters that herd the burros down from the mountains and into corrals. Still, if we’re real lucky, and if we promise to stay far out of the way—” She turned farther in her seat to ask, “Would you like that, Leesa?”
Leesa’s expression was hard to read. “Yesterday,” she began, “Jack and Ashley said that every living creature on Earth has value. Now you just told us that park rangers used to shoot wild burros. So if it’s wrong to kill coyotes, why wasn’t it wrong to kill burros?”
The silence that followed was broken only when Olivia murmured, “It’s complicated. Coyotes are native to the park. They’ve always been here. Burros were brought here. They are the outsiders, and the Park Service feels that exotic species need to be removed.”
“I just don’t see why there always have to be two different sets of rules for everything,” Leesa told them. “I’m never sure which one is right.”
“It isn’t two different sets of rules,” Olivia explained. “It’s one environmental policy. The Park Service has been given a mandate to preserve and protect certain areas of our country for all Americans to enjoy. That means these areas must be kept exactly as nature created them. Nature didn’t intend for burros to live in Death Valley. They’re interlopers—outsiders. They have to be removed, but the removal is carried out in the most humane way possible.”
Leesa didn’t look convinced.
CHAPTER THREE
Peering through the window, Jack stared across the barren valley floor toward the Funeral Mountains in the distance.
What would it be like to get lost in that wilderness, to wander without food or water—no, food wouldn’t really be a problem. Before a person could starve to death, he’d die of dehydration.
The thought of wandering in the desert reminded Jack of the gift he’d received from his parents a few months before on his 13th birthday—a perfect present, considering all the traveling his family did to the different national parks. He grabbed his backpack, opened it, and took out one half of the gift. It felt good in his hands, with a nice heft to it. After he pressed the button that turned it on, he sat watching the little red light that pulsed on and off like the beacon on top of