Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Got it!” Parker fiddled with some cords, and the portable projector sputtered to life.
The hastily converted Adventure Center was now command central for Operation Save the Grouse. The room buzzed with energy — part tension, part excitement, part “we’re all going to get fired, but at least we’ll go down in a blaze of glory.”
“Holy shit,” said Jenn, leaning forward in her chair. “That really is a Gunnison sage grouse.”
The cinematography wouldn’t win me any awards, shot one-handed while I was woozy from blood loss, possibly concussed, but its subject commanded everyone’s full attention.
The bizarre bird strutted across the frame, chest puffed to improbable proportions, air sacs inflating and deflating like tiny built-in party balloons.
Diego stopped eating his pastrami sandwich mid-bite. Brie was so distracted she poured coffee all over the counter when her mug overflowed.
The bird continued its ridiculous dance, bouncing across the frame. When it unleashed that strange popping sound, Maya gasped.
Noah had been pacing so much he’d probably worn down the treads of his hiking boots. When our eyes met, an electric tingle sizzled up my spine. I shifted on my plastic folding chair, wincing as my ankle reminded me I was lucky to still be alive.
He brought me a fresh ice pack, gingerly removing the other one, which had melted into my sock. “Does it feel any better?”
I nodded. “I think the swelling’s gone down. Thanks.”
“Look at the tail pattern,” Jenn pointed at the screen. “And that distinctive white ruff. This is definitely a mature male in full display.”
When the video ended, the room remained silent for several heartbeats, the significance of what I’d captured fully sinking in. Then came the questions.
“How many did you see?” asked Diego.
“Where exactly was this taken?” asked Brie.
“Did you notice any females nearby?” asked Maya.
Noah held up his hands, quieting the chaos. “This isn’t just about us anymore.” He pointed to the grouse, now frozen on the screen. “We’re also fighting for him.” He cued Jenn, who moved to the front of our makeshift war room.
“The Gunnison sage grouse is one of North America’s most endangered birds. Once common throughout the Gunnison Basin, their population has declined by over ninety percent in the last century.”
Jenn signaled Parker, who changed the view on his laptop to a map. “Development, roads, and recreation have fragmented their habitat.” She paused, nodding at me and smiling. “What Sam discovered appears to be an active lek. Their mating ground.”
“Like the bird equivalent of a singles bar,” said Diego.
“Something you know well.” Maya gave him a friendly punch in the arm.
“These leks are critical to their survival,” Jenn continued.
“Males return to the exact same spot year after year, generation after generation, to perform these mating displays. If a lek is destroyed, the birds don’t just find another location.
The whole breeding cycle collapses. And then they’re gone. ”
“Diego, you’re up.” Noah thumbed toward the front.
Standing in front of the row of folding chairs, Diego’s usually playful demeanor gave way to something fiercer.
“And it’s not just the grouse,” he said, pointing to some of the framed wildlife posters on the walls.
“This area supports an interconnected ecosystem that includes elk migration routes, beaver habitats, and some of the last uninterrupted sagebrush landscapes in the state.”
Parker, media whiz and master showman, hit the power button on the connected speaker system, and dramatic music played. The projector switched to a series of high-definition photographs. Mountain vistas. Bubbling streams. Wildflower meadows. Native animals in their natural habitats.
“LuxeLife’s expansion plans would cut right through critical winter range for elk and mule deer,” continued Diego.
Parker switched the view to drone footage of the entire area, including both the resort and the Adventure Center, juxtaposed with a 3D rendering of LuxeLife blueprints he’d found in shareholder reports on the corporate website.
“Victoria’s curated authenticity program would involve clearing old-growth forest for its boardwalks and viewing platforms.”
“Not to mention the light pollution,” Jenn added.
“The noise. The increased traffic,” said Maya.
“Tourists trampling wildflowers for the perfect selfie shot.” Brie looked pointedly at me.
“Hey, I’m a reformed trampler,” I protested, earning a small smile from Noah.
Maya cleared her throat, stepping to the front.
“There are laws protecting endangered species habitat,” she said, signaling Parker to bring a list of rules and regulations on screen.
“The Endangered Species Act specifically prohibits any action that results in the ‘taking’ of a protected species, which includes significant habitat modification.”
She met each of our eyes in turn. “If we can prove this is an active lek for the Gunnison sage grouse, we can trigger a mandatory environmental impact assessment before any development can continue.”
“Which would delay Victoria’s plans by months, if not years,” Noah added.
“But laws and regulations aren’t enough,” said Maya. “Victoria has an army of corporate lawyers who specialize in finding loopholes. They’ll argue the lek is abandoned, or that their development won’t significantly impact the habitat.”
Noah stopped pacing directly in front of my chair. I fought the urge to reach out for him. “That’s why we need the community behind us,” he said. “We need to make this so public, so visible, that it would be a PR nightmare for LuxeLife to harm one feather on this bird’s head.”
“He’s right,” said Maya. “We need visibility, public pressure, and a whole lot of noise.”
“But we only have a few days,” said Jenn. “And how much noise can the few of us here even make?”
I stood up, ignoring the protest from my battered body. Noah stayed close, probably worried he’d have to catch me if I fell.
“That,” I said. “Is where I come in.”
“Let me guess.” Diego pointed at the screen. “You’re going to make it into a TikTok dance.”
“I can do better than a TikTok dance.”
“Better how?”
I looked over at Noah, and he gave me a little nod. “Grouseapalooza,” I announced.
A lot of blank faces stared back at me.
“Grouse-a-pa-what-za?” Diego frowned.
“Grouseapalooza,” I repeated. “A festival. A celebration. A community event centered around saving our feathered friend. We’ll create specific hashtags, #SaveTheGrouseDance and #GrouseapaloozaColorado.
I’ll reach out to my network of influencers, get them to amplify. We can livestream the whole event.”
“You realize 99.9% of the population has never heard of the Gunnison Sage Grouse, right?” Jenn didn’t seem convinced.
“That’s the beauty of it. First rule of social media: people can’t care about what they don’t know about.
” My influencer’s brain kicked into high gear.
“We host a festival, just like the ones they hold downtown. Music, vendor booths, educational displays. We showcase the grouse in all its disco glory. And most importantly, we make it Instagram-worthy, TikTok-friendly, and hashtag-ready.”
My audience still looked dubious at best, except for Parker, whose eyes had taken on that calculating gleam he got when evaluating the viral potential of a concept.
“People care about things they feel connected to,” I explained, settling into my comfort zone.
“Right now, this is just a weird bird doing a weird dance that nobody’s ever seen.
But once people come to Grouseapalooza, once they learn about it, once they post about it and tag their friends, suddenly it’s their weird bird doing their weird dance. ”
“And then they’ll care if Victoria tries to bulldoze its habitat,” Maya finished for me.
“Precisely.” I pointed at her like she’d just won the bonus round on a game show.
“We create a movement around this bird, and suddenly LuxeLife isn’t just fighting some obscure environmental regulation, they’re fighting public opinion.
And trust me, as someone who lives and dies by the court of public opinion, that’s a battle they don’t want to get into. Once people get to know this bird …”
“Gary,” Noah interrupted.
We all turned his way.
“Who’s Gary?” asked Diego.
“He is.” Noah pointed at the screen. “Gary the Grouse.”
“You gave the grouse a name?” Jenn looked like she was about to make an appointment for Noah to get his head examined.
“Nobody cares about a random bird. Everybody loves Gary.” Noah looked back at me and smiled. It seemed the stubborn mountain man had been paying more attention to me than I thought.
“Gary the Grouse,” Maya repeated. “I like it.”
“It’s kinda adorable,” said Brie.
“It does have a nice ring to it,” Diego admitted.
“Fine,” said Jenn. “Gary it is. But a cute name isn’t going to solve the problem of putting together an entire festival last minute.”
“I can coordinate with the other vendors from the festival circuit,” said Brie. “Most of them would love a chance to earn a little extra business on a weekend off.”
“But it’s too late to get permits for downtown,” Maya cautioned.
“We’ll use the Adventure Center,” said Noah. “Set up tents in the parking lot. Use the main building for displays.”
Maya nodded. “We could probably get away with an ‘educational event’ here with minimal paperwork. Since this is private property.”
“LuxeLife property,” Diego pointed out.
“LuxeLife property leased to us,” countered Jenn. All eyes settled on the big calendar hanging on the wall — the last day of the month circled in red Sharpie. “At least for the next few days, it is.”
“I mean, if they’re not renewing the lease, what are they going to do?” asked Brie.
Everyone looked at Maya. “Not much they can do, as far as I can tell.”
“You really think we can pull all this together in a few days?”
“A few days is forever for a social media campaign,” said Parker.
“He’s organized viral flash mobs on shorter notice,” I added.
“I’ll set up a multimedia presentation,” Parker continued, fingers tapping at his laptop. “Project the grouse footage between music sets, maybe create some interactive displays where people can learn about the habitat.”
Jenn drummed her fingers on the back of a chair. “I know some wildlife photographers who’d donate images. We could create a photo exhibit showing all the species affected if LuxeLife expands.”
The energy in the room had shifted, trepidation transformed into triumph. Noah watched it happen, his eyes seeking mine across the room with a look that made my heart skip a beat or two.
“Music,” I said, forcing my attention back to the plan. “We need live music to draw people in.”
Diego’s smile went from rebellious to mischievous. “Maya should be able to help with that.”
Maya immediately shook her head. “No. No way.”
“Come on, Maya. It’s for the grouse.”
“For Gary,” Noah reminded them.
“No grouse is worth that.” Maya held her hand up. “Even one named Gary.”
“I’ll call him for you then,” offered Jenn.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Call who?” I asked.
Maya, Diego, and Jenn all exchanged suspicious looks. Even Noah seemed to be in on whatever the big secret was.
“Maya’s ex is a singer in a rock band,” said Diego. “A pretty good one, too.”
“Pretty good?” Noah crossed his arms. “I’d say average at best.”
“Are the rumors about the piercings true?” asked Brie.
“Not going there,” said Maya.
“What about the tattoos?” asked Diego.
“We’re not going there either. Not now. Not ever.” The look on her face made it clear the topic was closed.
There was a story worth telling though; I was sure of it. How did a good girl like Maya end up with a bad boy like … whoever they were talking about. I promised myself I would follow up later.
We spent the rest of the day brainstorming. The momentum built as everyone contributed; the room buzzed with collaborative energy. One by one, all the details fell into place.
“Wait, wait a second, hold up!” Noah held his hands up in the center of the room. “There’s a problem. A big one.” Everyone got quiet. If anyone was going to rain on our grouse parade, naturally it had to be the grumpy mountain man.
“Food,” he said grimly. “Can’t have a festival without food.”
“He’s right.” Brie nodded. “All the food trucks will be at that festival in Denver. I can bring my coffee cart, maybe rustle up some muffins, but feeding hundreds of people? No way.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as our perfect plan hit its first major roadblock. Then Parker cleared his throat. “I know how we could feed hundreds of people,” said Parker. I immediately noticed he wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“How?” asked Maya.
“Sam’s parents. They feed hundreds of people every day.”
“No,” I said immediately. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“But Sam …” Parker handed me back my phone. “Do it for the grouse.”
“For Gary,” Noah reminded again.
“There is no way in hell I’m letting my parents anywhere near the state of Colorado.” Now, for once, I was the grumpy one.