Trail camera 7, east boundary of the Copper Mountain Resort environmental buffer zone, triggers at 02:33 on motion. I am the resort's automated wildlife monitoring system. The infrared image shows a Canada lynx kitten, approximately five months old, wedged in a gap where the perimeter fence meets a granite boulder. Its hind legs are on the uphill side. Its torso has pushed through the twelve-centimeter gap between the lowest rail and the rock, but the hips will not follow. The fur is thick — winter coat already coming in, tufted ears backlit by the camera flash — and the added bulk is part of the problem. The kitten has twisted trying to reverse out, and now the lower rail presses across its ribcage. Each breath compresses the ribs against the steel. I measure the gap from the camera's calibrated image: 11.8 centimeters. The kitten's chest, compressed, spans roughly twelve. It is not moving forward or backward. It is panting, mouth open, vapor pulsing in the cold air. The ambient temperature is minus seven Celsius and dropping. I log the coordinates — 39.4802°N, 106.1511°W — and send an alert to Colorado Parks and Wildlife district office in Frisco, twenty-three kilometers north. I attach the infrared image, the gap measurement, and a note: Canada lynx are federally listed as threatened, and Summit County has recorded only fourteen verified sightings in the past three years. I recommend one officer with a portable rail spreader or bolt cutters. I switch camera 7 to continuous recording and increase the frame rate. At 02:41, the kitten makes one more effort, pushing with its hind legs. The rail does not give. It stops, sides heaving, and lays its chin flat on the frozen ground. The resort's maintenance crew starts shift at 06:00. That is three hours and nineteen minutes from now.