“Resident agent in charge?”
Cousins nodded.
“Raleigh is the only operation that isn’t one-man.” Boyish grin. “Or one-woman. The forensics lab is also up there.”
“Didn’t know we had one.”
“The Rollins Diagnostic Laboratory. It’s associated with the Department of Agriculture.”
“Isn’t there a national fish and wildlife lab?”
“Clark Bavin, out in Ashland, Oregon. It’s the only forensics lab on the planet dedicated exclusively to wildlife. They do cases from all over the world.”
“How many agents does the FWS have?”
“At full staff, two hundred and forty, but with cutbacks the number’s down to a couple hundred and dropping.”
“How long have you been an agent?”
Ryan was stacking dishes at the table behind us. I could tell he was listening.
“Six years. Spent the first couple in Tennessee following my training.”
“Do you prefer Columbia?”
“It’s closer to Charlotte.” Cousins gave my daughter a little finger wave.
“Would you mind talking shop a minute?”
The perfect eyebrows rose ever so slightly.
“Not at all.”
“I’m aware illegal wildlife is big business. How big?”
“I’ve read estimates of ten to twenty billion dollars a year. That’s third only to the illegal trade in drugs and arms.”
I was stunned.
Ryan settled into a chair on the far side of the steamer-trunk coffee table.
“Is there much black market trade in exotic birds?” I asked.
“I suppose. If something is rare, people will buy it.” Despite the practiced nonchalance, Cousins looked uncomfortable. “But as far as I’m concerned, the biggest problem right now is overexploitation.”
“Of?”
“Sea turtles are a good example. U.S. turtles are sold by the tons overseas. The other big problem comes from the bush-meat market.”
“Bush meat?”
“Giant cane rats and duikers from Africa. Lizards-on-a-stick from Asia. Those are reptiles that are slit along the belly and spread like big lollipops. Smoked pygmy lorises, roasted pangolin scales.”
Cousins must have interpreted the revulsion on my face as confusion.
“The pangolin is also called the scaly anteater. The scales are sold as a cure for syphilis.”
“People import these things for medicinal use?” Ryan asked.
“Could be anything. Take the turtles. Sea turtle shells are used for jewelry, the meat and eggs go to restaurants and bakeries, whole cara-paces are used as wall mounts.”
“What about bears?” I asked.
Cousins’s chin tilted up a fraction of an inch.
“Don’t know much about bears.”
“The Carolinas have large populations, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Is poaching a problem?” Ryan asked.
Silken shrug. “Wouldn’t think so.”
“Has the service ever investigated that?” I asked.
“Beats me.”
Lija’s boyfriend joined us and posed a question about the merits of man-to-man versus zone defense. Cousins’s attention veered to that conversation.
So much for bear poaching.
On the way home I solicited Ryan’s reaction to Cousins’s comments.
“Odd that a wildlife agent in the Carolinas would know nothing about bears.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
