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Conservation officer work prioritizes conversations, connections

News Photo by Julie Riddle Fishing charter boat captain Darrell Irwin looks on as Michigan Department of Natural Resources Conservation Officer Paul Fox completes an inspection of Irwin’s boat, the Double Down, at the Rogers City Marina on Monday.

ROGERS CITY — For some police officers, a great day at work means creeping through the woods in the middle of the night, hoping not to trip over a skunk.

Michigan Department of Natural Resources Conservation Officer Paul Fox has patrolled the Presque Isle County woods for the past eight years, enforcing state laws that protect natural resources.

He relishes the dramatic animal encounters and outdoors adventures the job offers.

Mostly, though, the work of a conservation officer is about people, Fox said.

Some think DNR officers are out to get them or spoil their fun, but conservation officers want to build relationships with the people in the communities they serve, he said.

News Photo by Julie Riddle A fawn curls in the grass near Rogers City Elementary School on Monday.

“The most ideal contact we have with people is if we shake hands, part ways, and there’s no violation,” Fox said. “That tells me that we’re doing something right.”

‘HEAD OVER HEELS’

Conservation work Up North offers plenty of connection with nature.

Fox’s favorite work comes in spring, when he patrols the woods at night to guard spawning steelhead making their annual treks up local rivers.

He recalls prowling near a river in the dark, looking for people illegally spearing fish, when car lights rounded a curve. He dove into the treeline, his foot catching under a cedar log.

News Photo by Julie Riddle Michigan Department of Natural Resources Conservation Officer Paul Fox, right, chats with fishermen Orlan Kortman, center, and Harold King, both of Hawks, at the Rogers City Marina on Monday.

“I went head over heels, rolling down the riverbank,” Fox said. “It’s amazing I didn’t poke an eye out.”

The job comes with an odd assortment of dangers. It also comes with delights other police officers may not encounter.

Spring brings fawns dotting lawns and fields — and well-intentioned residents calling daily to ask how to help the young creatures.

“The mother will come back for it, right?” a concerned tennis player asked on Monday as Fox checked on a fawn nestled in the grass near a playground at Rogers City Elementary School.

Fox assured her it would.

The school’s principal told Fox students would play on the other side of the building if the fawn were still in the grass at recess time.

If a fawn appeared on an urban playground, “Oh, my word. People would be freaking out,” Fox said — but, up north, people understand their wildlife and want to take care of it, he said.

LISTENING

In an outdoorsy region like Northeast Michigan, residents often know conservation officers better than they know other types of law enforcement, Fox said. They stop him in the grocery store and even show up on his doorstep to ask questions or air concerns.

At the Rogers City Marina on Monday, three fishermen tidied up at the fish cleaning station, rubbing shaving cream into their hands to get rid of the fish smell.

The men chatted with Fox about their morning catch, grumbling some about a recent regulation change that reduced their daily lake trout allowance from three fish to two.

State officials decided on the change, but conservation officers will have to enforce it, and that won’t be easy, Fox told them.

The men talked about hunter harassment and fishing woes as Fox listened patiently.

Across the parking lot, Harbormaster Wayne Saile greeted the conservation officer familiarly.

“The bugs are free,” Saile said, futilely swatting at the horde of insects that descend on Rogers City and other lakeside communities each spring. “You can have as many as you want.”

After a brief wrangle over the legality of killing the insects — Saile would need a permit, Fox joked — Saile shared a suggestion for a nuisance goose hunt that he thought would curb problems for residents and businesses.

Onboard a charter fishing boat in the harbor, boat captain Darrell Irwin asked Fox about the lake trout regulation change and shared the latest news from out on the water.

Such conversations develop relationships with people sick of government control and who want to feel heard, Fox said.

Those relationships can net officers information they need to catch lawbreakers, too, the officer said.

‘LOOSEY-GOOSEY’

Conservation officer schedules are “very loosey-goosey,” Fox said.

Their work follows the seasons — offroading, boating, and camping in the summer, hunting and fishing in fall, ice fishing and snowmobiling in winter.

Before becoming a conservation officer, Fox spent a few years handling traffic stops, larcenies, assaults, and other typical police work downstate.

Conservation work is, in some ways, tougher, but far more interesting, he said.

Many days, not much happens beyond a couple of inspections and a drive in the woods or a presentation to a school group.

On the other hand, “The boring days you don’t think are going to turn into anything could turn out wild and crazy,” Fox said.

He could spend the day driving a quad, a boat, a snowmobile, or his DNR pickup truck with well-worn suspension, a collection of feathers tucked around the front windshield.

He can go a whole day of patrol without ever driving on a paved road.

He’s walked up on bears (“They just run away,” he said), tapped massasauga rattlesnakes with his toe (“You’ve got to darn-near pick them up before they’ll bite you”), and woken up to “a very angry eagle loose in my basement.”

He remembers confronting a man addled by drugs, sans clothing, and the man’s bizarre and disturbing behavior in a sauna-like home.

“When you show up and people are naked,” he said, “that’s always a sign things are going to go from bad to worse.”

‘YOU COULD GET KILLED’

When Fox has to perform an autopsy on a “stinky, rotten animal that’s been cooking in the sun for a week” to find the cause of death, the search could turn up an illegal bullet, triggering an investigation that could send someone to jail.

Conservation officers are often the only officer patrolling their off-road coverage areas. If alcohol or drug use at a hunting camp turns into a domestic violence assault, “That might be your baby to deal with,” Fox said.

Walking up to a hunting camp can mean risking his life when hunters use their gun scope as binoculars to see him better — which means pointing their gun’s muzzle at him.

“We will write that up, absolutely,” Fox said. “You could get killed doing that.”

Most of the time, when Fox has to cite someone for illegal behavior, they own up to their infraction good-naturedly. He’s never had to use his taser or fire his weapon at a person, never had to use force to subdue someone or protect himself.

Chances are good that will change by the end of his career, he knows.

‘THE FUN POLICE’

People call conservation officers the “fun police,” out to pounce on anyone having fun and making them stop, Fox said, navigating a rutted, state-owned two-track and watching for signs of people out mud-bogging on their ATVs.

His goal is not to stop fun but to protect both people and the natural resources they enjoy, Fox said.

“Without regulations, our resources would take it on the chin,” Fox said.

Over-hunting and unregulated resource use in the past hurt the resources Northeast Michigan residents love, and it took legal changes and years of enforcement to restore them, he said.

“We all have a responsibility to protect our resources,” the conservation officer said. “Hunters, anglers, recreators. If we lose it, it’s pretty tough to get it back.”

Julie Riddle can be reached at 989-358-5693 or jriddle@thealpenanews.com. Follow her on Twitter @jriddleX.

This story has been edited to reflect that school officials would have sent Rogers City Elementary Students to play on another side of the school building if the fawn near their playground were still present at recess time.

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