Night Sweats

  By Benjamin Polley   Every night before I go into the remote ranger station in a forgotten wild corner of northwestern Montana, I lay in bed, gripped by fear, imagining potential encounters. Giving time to these images of wild animals, as well as to poachers, outlaws and Border Patrol agents known to frequent this terrain, keeps me close with my mortality, allowing me to shape-shift from the ease and predictability of town into the wild places I value. The stillness and isolation of the ...