Wild trials keep Federal Game Agents on their toes

Over the past several months I have received a number of e-mails from readers that inquired about if I had any “special” or “unique” investigations that I was particularly “fond” of (or proud or happy, etc.) during my career.

When each arrived I would only smile and return a nice but slightly negative note. But that was before I began reading through my diaries over the Christmas break.

That was both a blessing and a curse of sorts, both at the same time.

Anyway, I decided to relate some of those experiences (both widely different). If enough readers respond I will write about more in the future. I have many to choose from.

A military assignment

I received a phone call from an unidentified man who told me the United States Army was violating the law “big time.” It seems that some soldiers and civilians at the Seneca Army Depot (located near Romulus (in the central part of Seneca County) were engaged in Airborne Hunting Act violations by shooting at deer, both wounded and healthy, from the Army’s Huey Helicopter that is housed in a hanger on the Depot grounds.

Since the deer season on the depot was currently on-going, I decided to take a ride over to Seneca County.

I arrived and checked in with my Deputy Federal Game Warden, C. Scott Sampson, concerning the phone call. Since we were inside and Army walls often have ears, we walked out to my truck and took a drive.

And a little more background is in order here. The Army was well aware that “Scotty” was a duly appointed Federal Deputy Game Warden with jurisdiction in all 50 states. That occurred after a previous incident at the depot that involved deer, ducks, illegal night hunting and the Post Colonel (Commander) and several other ranking officers and civilians, not necessarily in that order.

Therefore we never discussed any official information in or near his office or other individuals.

I told him about the phone call I had received, and could he point me in the right direction for some interviews. Instead he told me to take him where we needed to go, and we went there. I talked with three individuals who were well aware of the whole situation (yes, one of them sounded just like the person on my earlier phone call) and ranks or titles of all of the “perps” involved.

Next, Scotty and I headed for the Post HQ and an impromptu meeting with the Colonel in charge. He agreed to meet with us, but not before making us wait for over an hour.

When we went in his arrogance and attitude were both on obvious display. And I wasted no time in explaining the situation, the violations, and the possible trip to the Federal Court in Rochester.

That’s when he told me (in so many “official” words that I did not have any jurisdiction on HIS base and I and my deputy should leave immediately.

That was his second mistake, the first being our extended wait. But before I left I held up my business card, and then dropped it on his desk. It had my mobile phone number on the back.

Scott was silent on our walk out to my vehicle, but I already knew what I was going to do with this “gentleman.” When we were in my truck and well on our way, I asked for directions to the helicopter hangar. He told me how to get there, and I have never seen a bigger, more genuine smile on anyone’s face.

When we arrived and observed the helicopter on its pad, I pulled out a seizure tag, filled it out, tore off the “receipt” portion and handed it to the pilot. Then I opened the door to the aircraft and carefully hung that tag in the stick.

I closed the door, turned to the pilot, and told him in no uncertain terms that if anyone was to remove the tag or operate that helicopter, it would now result in three felony charges against him and whoever caused the seizure tag to be removed.

After all, that aircraft now belonged to the Department of the Interior until further notice!

Then Scott and I took a nice, leisurely drive out through the “igloo” area where conventional weapons and ammunition was stored and parked in a nice, shady spot. I told him I expected a phone call in about a half hour. And we sat back, relaxed, and enjoyed two cups of my lukewarm coffee and caught up on what had been going on at the Depot.

The phone call came in 28 minutes later, according to my watch. And, as expected, it was the Colonel’s Aide who requested another meeting as soon as convenient for me. I told him I would be back at his office in an hour or so.

Then Scotty and I slowly finished the rest of my coffee before heading slowly back to the Post HQ. (I told my partner that it would a short while for the pilot to contact HQ and for the Colonel to contact his legal officer and find out if this was a legal move or not. It was. There are no provisions in the Airborne Hunting Act for any military airborne hunting exceptions.)

We arrived back at the Depot’s HQ building almost an hour and a half later, not bad for a 15-minute drive. And we were sent directly into the jerk’s office.

He asked, rather directly, how “we” could make this “matter” go away. I advised him that, if the appropriate citations for the numerous violations were taken care of by the five individuals involved, and if the helicopter was never again used for anything related to hunting (including spotting of wounded game), then this matter would be completely closed.

The only holdup would be if any of the five principles wanted to contest the charges in Federal Court. And he assured me none would want a trial. I caught the undertone of his statement, and left it right there.

The fines were all paid by all five three days later, and I drove over to the depot to remove that seizure tag. I still had it when a flood ruined everything eight inches or lower in my basement. Darn, I would have loved to send along a photo of it with this article!

This mission fit the bill

In 1992 I received a report from a trusted friend and duck hunter about a group of hunters that were hunting ducks at a place called “Hindman” Swamp in Schuyler County. According to the complaint, a number of hunters had killed over 100 ducks on opening day, 1991.

Many of them were wood ducks. He gave me good directions to this swamp, and I planned to be there in two weeks on opening day of the duck season.

Opening day was Oct. 8, 1992. I arrived around 4 a.m., and I heard shooting coming from the swamp area less than 15 minutes after my arrival.

I made my way down an old tote road into the swamp as more shotgun blasts were coming from that area. Since the season did not open until 6:26 a.m. I figured on several early shooting cases. But when the first light of dawn arrived I received a rude awakening.

The swamp was filled wall to wall with “pucker brush” that made walking or even observing very difficult (to say the least). I managed to move to a slightly higher “hummock” where I could see a good part of the swamp, but I could only see three hunters (there had to be 10 to 12 hunters present). I watched dozens of ducks fall from the sky, but the hunters were mostly hidden from view.

Talk about frustration! But I kept on observing and hoping for a break.

And it came at 9:08 a.m. when a lone hunter came up out of the marsh. He was carrying his shotgun and a heavy sack. So I quickly approached him and identified myself. His name was David Reynolds, and his father owned the entire swamp.

I took possession of his shotgun (for safety) and checked it for a legal plug. I then asked him to produce his hunting license and duck stamp, and dump out the sack. He did as requested, and 13 ducks, including seven wood ducks, both over limits, were there on the ground.

It was just about then that my case started to turn south. He told me he had collected some ducks from other hunters and shot three of his own. Then he dropped the “bomb” on me that he was a diabetic and had to go home for some food.

So, with no other choice, I had to send him on his way, but I kept his gun, license with stamp, and the sack of dead ducks. And I told him to come right back when he had eaten. (In reality I fully expected him to return with other hunters and ruin everything for me. Oh well.)

He did return around 20 minutes later. In a truck with three men and a woman riding in the bed. And one of the men jumped out of the still moving truck and virtually ran up to within an inch of my nose and began screaming and cussing me out almost nose to nose.

And he kept up that screaming and yelling for at least 15 minutes. But he didn’t touch me in any way. I was ready and willing with handcuffs if he had. Very willing!

Well, his wife (the woman in the truck) finally stepped in and calmed her husband down. I wrote the son for three violations (possession of too many ducks, transporting untagged ducks of another person, and possession of an unsigned duck stamp while hunting waterfowl).

Then I handed him back his gun, put the ducks back in the bag, and took it to my vehicle. I really wanted to make more pinches in that beautiful swamp but the fates were against me.

But I did get some great satisfaction in the end. In December I was notified that I was being sued by Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds for illegal trespass! YES! And I also knew that the law firm in Ithaca that he and his wife had engaged was, without any doubt, the most expensive such establishment north of New York City.

So in the end I got a little “justice” of my own.

The Federal Judge in the lawsuit held that I was clearly a Federal Agent acting well within my statutory authority , so he declared that I be removed from jeopardy and the U.S. Government be substituted in my place. Then that judge determined that everything was done according to all laws and regulations, and tossed the lawsuit out.

The Assistant U.S. Attorney in the case told me later that Reynolds had to pay between $25,000 and $35,000 for this lawsuit, and that was also sweet justice to my ears.

NOTE: If any reader wishes to see the entire decision(s) of the court, just enter “Reynolds v. United States” or type in Leonard Lisenbee and scroll down for the full decision. It’s a hoot!

Len Lisenbee is the Daily Messenger’s Outdoor Columnist. Contact him at lisenbee@frontiernet.net

This article originally appeared on Rochester Democrat and Chronicle: Wild trials keep Federal Game Agents on their toes