The Weirdo by Theodore Taylor Page B

freezer. Some get a special license."
    "Why don't they just chase them away?"
    "Money. A big male can eat fifty dollars' worth of corn in no time. They wait until there's juice in it, then attack. There's always two sides."
    "I'm on the bears' side."
    Telford laughed, scanning over. "I am, too. But I'm not a farmer."
    Forty minutes later, they found the right mailbox and went down the lane past seven-foot cornstalks, dazzling green, tassels golden.
    Telford chuckled. "There's a big banquet here. Any self-respecting bear would drop in for a meal."
    Soon the trim white farmhouse loomed, and a pair of dogs were yelping, running alongside, heralding the arrival of the truck.
    A moment later, a middle-aged man in a T-shirt appeared, coming from around the barn.
    "You Mr. Goris?" Telford asked.
    "That's me. You must be the bear man."
    "Yes. This is my assistant, Chip Clewt." Chip always felt a surge, hearing that.
    They alighted from the truck, Telford bringing along his camera.
    "I had four nail me last year, an' I'm gettin' damn tired of it," Goris said.
    "Don't blame you," Telford replied, causing Chip to look at him in disbelief. "Thank you for calling us."
    As they walked toward the section of field where the bear lay, Goris said, "I left the collar an' the ear tags on."
    "I do thank you," Telford said.
    A few minutes more and the farmer said, "Well, there he is, an' look at all the damage he did."
    There were broken-off cornstalks for more than a hundred feet, two rows deep.
    Chip looked at the poor bear, slumped on his side, half his head blown off, flies swarming over the cavity. He only glanced at the damage to the crop.
    The two men were staring down at the bear.
    Chip didn't think it was Henry. He heard Goris say, "I shot 'im with a Savage 110-E...."
    "There wasn't much doubt you'd kill him, was there?"
    "Not a bit, son."
    Chip turned away, eyes filling with tears.
    Telford bent over the carcass, examining an ear tag, murmuring, for Chip's benefit, "He's Number Nineteen."
    Seething inside, but feeling helpless, Chip went on back to the truck while Telford removed the collar and tags. Poor Number Nineteen, just wanting food, had his head blown off. He was "Roger" in Chip's log.
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    "YOU DIDN'T even sound angry at that man," Chip said accusingly, as they pulled away from the Goris place.
    "He did what was legal. Don't get emotionally involved," Telford replied, looking straight ahead.
    "He could have just chased him away."
    "And he'd've come back tomorrow."
    Chip fell into silence, unable to accept what he'd just seen.
    "If that bothers you, wait until they lift the hunting and fishing moratorium. They'll come in with multiple packs of dogs...."
    "You have to be kidding," said Chip, eyes wide.
    "I wish I was."
    "Can't you do anything about it?"
    "Me? No! It's a political thing. My job is to get an estímate on the population, track the feeding areas. The same people who are providing the money for this study may decide to open it for limited hunting next fall."
    "Can't you protest?"
    Telford drove awhile without answering, then finally said, suddenly annoyed, "I'm trying very hard to get my doctorate. Chip, I can't get involved. I need the grant money."
    "So they'll just come in and kill off bears."
    "Unless this study indicates they haven't increased that much in the last four years."
    "If they've increased a lot, can't you just cheat? For their sake?"
    Telford's head swung around. "No! Look, there's a big problem all over the country. The habitats are shrinking. Too many bison in Yellowstone, too many white-tailed deer in Gettysburg; too many mountain goats in Olympic National in Washington. Not enough food. If you shoot them, the animal rights people scream. Even the biologists argue about this. There's no one, easy answer."
    Chip struggled with his thoughts. There had to be ways. "Can't they just move the excess animals?"
    "They often die off when you change their environment."
    "There has to be a way."
    "Figure