I first met Duane Bailey in 1983 when I was assigned as the Division of Wildlife’s Hancock County Game Protector in northwest Ohio’s District 2. Bailey had grown up on the east side of Columbus and was a graduate of Ohio State University. Upon completion of the 1980 Game Protector Academy, he was sent to Paulding County, replacing longtime warden Danny Griffiths Jr., who’d served in that position since 1953.
Paulding County was organized by the legislature in 1820 and is home to the meandering Auglaize and Maumee Rivers. As it grew, farmers came to the fledgling county to try to make a living, but settlement in the area was slow. Once densely timbered, trees were rapidly cut for lumber and floated northward on the Maumee River. Shipbuilders manufactured masts from the huge logs and barrel making became an important industry. Early farmers often quipped that they grew two crops a year — frogs and ice. Today, due to land clearing and drainage, the county has become highly agricultural with just over 18,000 residents inhabiting its 419 square miles — ranking its population 83rd out of Ohio’s 88 counties.
This became Bailey’s primary patrol responsibility for more than 30 years. He ran into a lot of different situations during that career and — like most wardens – has been told repeatedly that he could write a book about his experiences. That idea wasn’t actually new to him and he would mention it often during the years we worked in the same district. He’d told me that if it ever materialized, he planned to name the manuscript “The Rings of Saturn,” a strange name I never bothered to question.
During our years in the division, Duane and I would cross paths at meetings, training, and during a variety of special projects. The time we spent working together was not frequent due to the sixty miles separating our counties and our work units covered different portions of northwest Ohio. Regardless, what time we did share was enjoyable and our friendship developed. Whenever he mentioned that someday he’d like to write a book, I’d tell him that it was up to him to turn that someday into today and encouraged him to get started. In fact, we had that same discussion just a couple of months ago.
Well, now he’s done it. Here’s a slightly edited sample of one of his book’s 46 stories.
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“One of the lesser-known duties of a wildlife officer involved contacting individuals who held wild animal propagation licenses. These permits were required for people who raised and sold certain approved wild animals – for instance, pen-reared pheasants or other species allowed under Ohio law. Each year, we were responsible for conducting inspections of those facilities…
“On one particular day, my unit supervisor — whom I’ll simply call Bob — met me in Paulding County so we could conduct several of these inspections together. Bob was sharp, squared away, and wore the uniform well. He had been a solid county officer before becoming a supervisor, and I always enjoyed working with him. We visited a couple of facilities first where everything was in order — clean pens, organized records, no issues. But I knew the next stop would be memorable…”
“I took Bob to another propagator who maintained what could best be described as a small menagerie. Only a few of his animals required Division of Wildlife permits — namely some pheasants, a couple of raccoons, and a black bear, all native species. But he also possessed an African lion and a tiger — former circus surplus animals he had acquired years earlier… the Division of Wildlife had no regulatory authority over those exotic species…”
“Still, curiosity got the better of us, and the owner offered to walk us down to see the lion enclosure. The cage sat near a pond, with only a narrow path between the fence line and the water’s edge. As we approached, the lion began pacing toward us. The owner casually said, ‘You might not want to get too close. He’s got a habit.’ Bob…walked right up to the edge of the cage.”
“Sure enough, the lion followed him. The big cat turned, backed toward the fence, and without hesitation, let loose a powerful stream straight through the wire. It hit Bob square in the chest. As Bob staggered backward, the lion pivoted and followed along the fence line, continuing to spray. Bob kept retreating while the lion maintained aim with surprising accuracy…”
“For reasons not fully documented it would be quite a while before Bob ever accompanied me on another propagator inspection.”
— An Inspection to Remember – And Smell by Duane Bailey.
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Bet you didn’t see that game warden story coming! Of course, over 30 years of working wildlife enforcement, an officer can gather plenty of material, and that’s what Bailey’s “The Rings of Saturn, A Game Warden’s View of the Universe” offers. The book gives a rare glimpse of one officer’s work in rural Ohio, protecting what can’t protect itself. In it you’ll be with Officer Bailey as he catches more than just hunting and fishing violators, you’ll meet some characters and bad actors, and share some of the humor, heartbreak, and kindness.
This is your opportunity to ride along and watch as each chapter unfolds. You’ll begin to understand some of the quiet truths that wearing the badge offers. There’s “Operation Fish Fry,” “Truck Bed Full of Trouble,” “The Manicure that Gave it Away,” “The Paulding County Poachers Association,” “Duct Tape Can’t Fix Stupid,” “Deer Roping,” “The Arctic Visitor,” “Quiet Zone – Judge Sleeping,” and so much more.
Are you wondering where Duane Bailey came up with the rather abstract name for the book? The Rings of Saturn was actually born during an early morning along the Maumee River. If you want to find out, I guess you’ll need to read the book — you can’t expect me to give it all away. To get a copy of “The Rings of Saturn, A Game Warden’s View of the Universe,” visit bookstore.westbendprinting.com/product/the-rings-of-saturn/
You know, I never got the actual chance to buy one of Duane’s books. He sent me a signed copy for giving him that shove off of first base. Hope his book is a home run. That sort of goes along with the story on page 53…
“A game warden’s job is 10% paperwork, 90% pretending to casually stroll while actually sprinting toward someone fishing without a license.”
— Anonymous
