Brightbill retires

Thirty-eight years in a public service job is a long time. So when it came time for Jay Brightbill retire from his career as an enforcement agent for the Washington State Department of Fish and Wildlife at the end of June, I invited him in for an interview.

He arrived and invited me to ride with him while we talked. He'd just purchased his usual lunch of chicken strips, fries and a Coke. We checked activity along Steamboat Slough Road and then headed up the Elochoman Valley.

"I always wanted to be a wildlife agent," he said. He earned a bachelor degree in wildlife management and also studied fisheries. The Washington Department of Game was hiring when he graduated from Oregon State University in 1971, and he was one of 20 successful applicants out of more than 2000.

After his basic training, he, his wife Marianne, and their young son Todd moved to Naselle. They moved to Puget Island in 1973, and a second son, Troy, arrived soon after. The sons are gone; both are in law enforcement, one a sergeant in Cowlitz County and one a sergeant in Clark County. The Department of Game is gone, too, combined in the 1990's with the Department of Fisheries to form the Department of Fish and Wildlife.

In the 38 years, Brightbill has spent hours driving the backroads of Wahkiakum, Pacific and Cowlitz counties and plenty of days in boats patrolling the Columbia.

The focus of his job has changed over the years.

"At the start, there was a lot more wildlife control," he said. "Now, it's much more law enforcement. They added the word ‘police' to our uniform patches so people would realize we have full law enforcement authority. We're even doing traffic patrol."

Enforcement problems have changed over the years. Early in his career, Brightbill dealt with a lot of drive-by poaching and illegal netting.

Timber companies have now gated most of their property, making it very difficult for hunters to conduct illegal activity far from populated areas.

There is less privacy on the river, too, making it hard for illegal netting.

"Everyone has a cell phone, and if they see a boat out at night, they call in," he said.

The department has modified its management policies over the years. Early on, they were planting hatchery fish everywhere. Now, the tributaries have become wild fish sanctuaries.

Sportsmen have adapted. Runs of sockeye salmon were depleted but are starting to come back. It was conventional wisdom at the start of Brightbill's career that they wouldn't bite anglers' lures in their migration up the Columbia.

"Now, people have learned how to catch them," he said. "It's kind of neat."

Anglers are using small, red or orange spinning lures, he said, and they are on the river when the run passes.

"If you're just finding out about it, it's too late," he said. "The run has passed."

Most of the time, Brightbill has worked alone. Other game agents are far away, and most deputies and state patrolmen don't know the backroads. He learned to identify individuals as soon as possible and proceed from there.

Brightbill has had some interesting cases. In one, a Raymond doctor went on shooting rampage in a special, permit only elk hunt along the Julia Butler Hansen National Wildlife Refuge. The doctor didn't have a permit; his son did, but the doctor killed several elk using an expensive custom made rifle. He was arrested and convicted and received a hefty sentence with civil penalties for each elk killed in addition to the criminal penalties. He appealed, but the state Supreme Court upheld the penalties.

Brightbill has seen human activity affect wildlife.

Housing development in the Elochoman Valley on what was once farm land has squeezed out elk. Puget Island once hosted many geese in the winter, but cottonwood plantations have replaced pastures, and the geese are largely gone.

There have been positive developments, too. Brightbill helped introduce wild turkeys in Wahkiakum County, and there are now self-sustaining populations in the Skamokawa and Elochoman valleys.

Brightbill has also learned many tricks over the years. Recently, officers received reports that some youths had poached elk up Fossil Creek Road. Brightbill was sent to find the site while other officers interviewed the youths. He found the site only by noticing a brass colored sparkle of light from a spent shell casing.

People are sometimes tempted to intervene in poaching incidents, but they shouldn't, Brightbill said. He and other agents are left to pick up the pieces of the case and have to try to produce evidence that will stand up in court.

"It's never as easy as if they had advised us and waited for us to make the contact," he said.

Civilians and officers alike get frustrated with the slow progress of cases in court.

In one of his strangest cases, Brightbill investigated a report from a hunter that there were three elk living in a hole in the ground up one of the Skamokawa valleys. He enlisted BJ Helms to accompany him, and they found that the elk had broken through soft ground and were in a large cavern near the top of a ridge.

With no way to get the elk out, they euthanized them. They cut down a small tree and trimmed its branches to make a ladder and placed that in the hole. They left some water bottles in the cavern. They put up tape and signs to warn people of the danger.

The department will post another agent in the area to replace Brightbill. "He's Patrick Anderson, a new officer who's been working Long Beach," Brightbill said. He added he thinks the position is secure unless the department has to make further program cuts because of revenue shortfalls.

Meanwhile, Brightbill plans to take time to catch up on projects around the house and get in more hunting and fishing.

"I'll spend time with the grandkids, too," he said.

"Overall, it's been nice to have been here."