Oklahoma Today July-August 2003 Volume 53 No. 4

THE NOT-SO SYLVAN WOODS
A more bucolic scene could hardly be imagined. The deer,
a magnificent, barrel-chested ten-point buck, stands aloof and
proud in a field of verdant, newly sprouted winter wheat. It is
early fall, and the deep russet hue of the buck's coat fairly glows
in the buttery half-light of the fading evening sun.
The buck doesn't move when the faint sounds of an approaching
vehicle become audible. It remains still as the sound's source
becomes visible, a pickup, cruising slowly along the remote
county road bordering the wheat field. The buck stays motionless
as the truck suddenly stops and the passenger-side window is
hastily rolled down, merely stares as a rifle barrel is slowly eased
out the window. The buck doesn't flinch at the sharp report of
the gunshot, doesn't fall when the bullet slams into its chest at
twice the speed of sound, and doesn't bolt into the woods when
flashing lights and men suddenly surround the truck.
It can't. It's already dead.
It's called a "dummy deer," and it's just one of the tools the
wildlife cops of the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation
use to apprehend those who attempt to exploit the
state's natural resources for illegal fun or black-market profit.
Some of the more sophisticated models are, quite literally,
robo-deer, with twitching tails and rotating heads for a more
lifelike presentation.
Welcome to modern wildlife law enforcement, a field where
the new technologies of forensic pathology, electronic surveil-
lance, and sophisticated sting operations intersect with the
time-honored woodcraft of the traditional game warden.
These aren't your !grandfather's game wardens, because these
aren't your grandfather's sylvan woods. The national trade in
illegal wildlife and wildlife parts is big business. Estimates on
the actual dollar amount vary wildly, but most law enforcement
agencies agree that traffic in illegal wildlife runs into
the billions of dollars and is second only to the drug trade
in illicit revenue production.
At first blush, Oklahoma seems an unlikely place for such
criminal activity, but in reality there is an ongoing war being
waged in our wild lands and on our waterways. Lucrative
caviar smuggling rings, massive fish-netting operations, illegally
harvested mussels destined for the Asian pearl industry,
the theft of rare and endangered animals for the overseas pet
trade, canned trophy hunts of exotic animals, illegal drug
production on public land. These are just a few of the challenges
facing modern game wardens, and, by extension, us
as Oklahomans.
Most of us, whether we hunt and fish or not, know what
a game warden is, or at least we think we do. He's the guy
in green who checks licenses and makes sure hunters don't
shoot things they're not supposed to.
In reality, the scope of the job goes far beyond checking
licenses and monitoring bag limits. Game wardens are the
state's environmental crime fighters, and they're just as likely
46 1 OKLAHOMATODAY .JULY/AUGUST 2003