I was on my computer, trying to get an idea for something to write about. I called up the year 1991 and noticed an entry marked Martin. Thinking that the article was either about the pine marten or the purple martin, I clicked and quickly realized it was about an old game warden.

As a member of the 13th class at the Ross Leffler School, I met many officers during my training. I noticed that these older officers took much pride in their work. Upon graduation, I was assigned to Bradford County, with my headquarters in Troy. Here is where I spent the next 35 years.

Although I learned many things, one that stands out was how deep the Esprit de Corps runs through the Pennsylvania Game Commission.

At one time there was a song “Old Soldiers Never Die They Just Fade Away.” Because of lessons that I learned later in my career I truly believe that you could insert the words game wardens for the word soldiers. Recently, I attended a retirees meeting and heard complaints that the new officers do not have pride in the commission and that the older officers said there is very little Esprit de Corp.

However I have met some of these new officers, and I have found that the pride is still there. However, Esprit de Corps just doesn’t happen overnight but takes years of shared experiences.

Here is an example of the Esprit de Corp that lives within the Game Commission.

This incident began during the middle of January 1991, when I received this message, “Stop in to see Martin Shaffer; he wants to talk to you.”

Martin had been a game protector from 1941-51 in the Canton area and a member of the fourth class of the Ross Leffler School. After serving ten years as a game protector, for reasons known only to him, he took another job with Thatcher Glass Company.

I came to Bradford County in 1969 and, through the years, Shaffer often stopped by to visit me. He shared his love of the outdoors and told me of interesting things that he saw in nature.

When Shaffer retired from Thatcher Glass Company, he and his wife became snowbirds and would flee to Florida to escape Pennsylvania’s winters. I could always depend on Shaffer sending me letters and newspaper clippings from the Florida newspapers. The clippings were always about wildlife or the Florida Fish and Game Department.

When I received the message that he wanted to see me, I assumed he wanted to talk about the Pennsylvania Game Commission. Part of the message was that Shaffer had just returned home from the hospital and had been diagnosed as having cancer.

Although I had good intentions, I put off my visit thinking I’ll go tomorrow. It wasn’t until the end of February that I finally stopped to see Shaffer.

I was not prepared for his condition. By then he was bed-ridden. Shaffer had been a big man, over six feet tall, on a substantial size frame. Now it was apparent the disease had taken its toll on him. Shaffer must have been cold because the blanket was pulled up to his neck. Even so, the blanket could not hide his condition.

Shaffer was happy to see me, and the first thing he said was, “I have some old game commission uniform equipment I want to give to you.” He knew that I collected anything old dealing with the game commission.

With that we plunged into a conversation about the game commission. Although his body seemed worn out, it was quite apparent Shaffer’s mind was not. He could remember names and dates of things that happened when he was serving as a game protector.

During the conversation, Shaffer seemed to fall off to sleep in the middle of a sentence, only to wake up immediately and continue the conversation.

I was sitting quite close to his bed, and he began to stare at my badge. Without saying anything, Martin reached out and touched the badge. He began rubbing the badge between his fingers, like it was a precious stone.

Then he broke his silence and said, “I was always proud to wear this badge.”

I replied “Yes, once a game warden, always a game warden.”

Shaffer spoke of past arrests he wish he hadn’t made.

Deciding whether to arrest someone for breaking the game law or give him a warning is a decision all game protectors face every year. Sometimes we make an arrest when we know that the money to pay the fine is not going to be easy to get. You hate to do it, but the person broke the law. It is your job, so you make the arrest. The arrest does not make you feel good.

My conversation with Shaffer made me stop and think. Some arrests are hard to make. Yes, I wish I had a chance to change my mind on some of my previous arrests.

But life does not give us these options. Shaffer, the old game warden, was teaching a lesson to a younger officer that day. The choices you make today, you will live with for the rest of your life.

I wish I could say I went back to see Shafferwithin that half hour, but I did not. He passed away two days later. Now I know the choice I made that day, not to go back in a half hour, will be a decision I’ll have to live with for a long, long time.

Shaffer’s love for being a game warden went with him to the grave. Which leads me to believe that old game wardens never die they just fade away.

Bill Bower is a retired Pennsylvania Game Commission Wildlife Officer. Read his blog and listen to his podcasts on the outdoors at www.onemaningreen.com.