TRAPPER CREEK -- In heavy rain Tuesday, Alaska wildlife trooper Doug Massie steered a two-seat Arctic Cat Prowler four-wheeler down Petersville Road.
Massie was running spot checks for the second day of moose season along the road -- a popular spot for hunters. The rain pelted his face. His hands were stiff from the cold. He had already wiped two bugs out of his eyes.
"Sometimes our job is miserable," Massie said.
But not often. Coming up on his 10th year as a trooper, Massie, 31, said he still loves his job. Few get a chance to bomb through the woods on an ATV or tool around on lakes and streams in a boat and get paid for it, he said.
Beneath his trooper-issued raincoat he wore a brown uniform shirt, indicative of a recent shift in the Alaska Department of Public Safety. In August 2003, under Gov. Frank Murkowski, the "brown-shirt" wildlife troopers merged under the same command as the "blue-shirt" patrol units and started taking on more patrol duties during slow times. The two have always had the same enforcement powers.
Gov. Sarah Palin pledged during her campaign to revive those units. This summer that change went into effect.
Deputy commissioner of public safety John Glass, who managed the changeover, said overall he's pleased. The real difference, he said, is not in the chain of command, where a new colonel and major now oversee the wildlife troopers, but in priorities.
"We're back to where our priorities should be and that's resource protection," Glass said.
TOO FEW BROWN SHIRTS
During king salmon season, Massie said, eight to 10 troopers came in from all parts of the state to patrol the Valley fishing spots. In 30 days they wrote more than 400 tickets. And it was a slow season. In his off hours, Massie said, he only caught one king this year. Usually he takes his limit of five.
"It makes me wonder what it would have been like if the kings really were running," Massie said.
And it makes him hopeful that they can articulate the need for more brown shirts in the area. Right now, he's the only one stationed in Talkeetna, responsible for 100 miles of the Parks Highway.
Glass said that enforcement effort, aside from tamping down on violators, "put people on notice that brown shirts are back." Just the presence of a brown shirt on the rivers is often enough to prevent infractions.
Still, Massie said, it's not like his job suddenly changed when the divisions split. He's still helping the blue shirts when they need him and they're returning the favor.
"I'm still doing the same things I always did," Massie said.
Aside from the increased enforcement efforts, the biggest change for him was the new uniform. But that uniform can make a big difference, Massie said. The public understands what the uniform means.
It helps even when he's rolling with the blue shirts, maybe serving a search warrant or responding to a domestic violence call. Some folks are just more willing to talk to him than a patrol trooper. Which is fine.
"We're still getting the job done," Massie said.
Out on Petersville Road, Massie said the season has been remarkably slow. Even the radio, usually alive with chatter about illegal moose kills, has been quiet. And the season is 10 days shorter this year than last -- one would think hunters would be out in force making the most of the days they have.
QUIET MOOSE SEASON
Massie said he's not sure what happened. Maybe hunters aren't coming out because the season started the same week as school and they can't take the kids along. He has noticed fewer moose in the area along Petersville Road, and maybe that's it.
Whatever the reason, in an eight-hour patrol Massie talked to two pairs of men with rifles. One set said they were out with hunters but not hunting themselves. The other said they'd been searching unsuccessfully for a moose.
But Massie talked with everyone he saw -- from road construction crews to amateur photographers to research scientists from Lehigh University. He asked if they'd seen anyone with any game. None had.
Still, it's good to ask, even if you only see one person.
Sometimes, "that one person, they'll say, 'yeah, there's a camp up the trail that looks really weird,' " and he'll be on to a big case, Massie said.
Massie said most of his violators are Alaskans.
"They'd like you to think it's tourists. It's not," Massie said.
Tourists, by and large, are respectful of the rules, Massie said. When they violate, it's usually a case of ignorance. But the locals know better. The old argument is they need to fill the freezer and feed their family. But Massie doesn't buy it.
"If you need food we can get you food," either from a road-kill moose or seized illegal kills.
Massie said he wouldn't want to work any other job. He initially applied as a blue shirt. He was going to be like his dad, Dallas Massie, the well-known trooper investigator who retired last year and who started out as a blue shirt.
But the appeal of wildlife enforcement was too great.
"One minute I'll be doing a search and rescue, the next I'll be bombing through the powder on a snowmachine. And I might get a DUI on the way home," Massie said.
Find reporter Andrew Wellner online at adn.com/contact/awellner or call him at 352-6710.
