Her goal today was to spend some quality time with Ziggy, a female ostrich. Ziggy toured for a while with one of the last traveling circuses in the country. When her owner retired to Florida, she spent a couple of years entertaining children on the boardwalks at the beach.
Her trainer used a laser pointer to paint a target and using her massive beak and long neck she busted piñatas full of candy for the enthralled children, popped balloons floating in the air and occasionally took an adventurous child for a ride on her back as she ran down the beach, clucking and chirping.
When her trainer passed away, Ziggy was willed to Piedmont with a large endowment to make sure she was always cared for and could spent the rest of her days entertaining children and adults alike.
Vanessa watched her walk along the fence hunting for snacks. She darted her head quickly and gulped down the unwary cricket. She was an efficient hunter and her eyes, the largest of any land mammal, easily picked out the small prey that she loved to munch on. Vanessa shot some video of her hunting and narrated along remarking on the powerful legs and graceful motion. No effort was wasted as the large bird sniped cricket after juicy cricket.
The sound of crinkling cellophane brought Ziggy to full focus on the girl. She knew that sound. Ziggy loved popcorn. She anxiously awaited the toss and when it came, she snatched the fluffy treat out of the air, ready for more. Vanessa tossed her two at once and Ziggy snagged them both. She shared the bag with the ostrich, glad for the time she had with the magnificent strider all to herself before the park became crowded. She tossed Ziggy the last piece but as she darted for it, her head swiveled toward the front gate when the screaming started. The popcorn fell forgotten to the ground.
Vanessa grabbed her stuff and headed for the gate as Ziggy kept pace on the opposite side of the fence. Her daddy taught her to always be aware and ready for danger. She had no idea what could be going on, but she was going to find out.
5
Swan
Swan Michaels skipped along the tour route, stopping to pull a pretty yellow flower from the wild patch growing beside the road. She tucked it over her ear and gave a quick apology to Mother Earth. She recited aloud the poem she was working on about all the people and all the animals living in harmony with each other. It wasn’t very good, she thought, but whatever, it was a work in progress.
Swan was the child of globally aware nature lovers who were quick to sign a petition or attend a protest for causes they believed in. Her mother was a spokeswoman for the Meskwaki Indian tribe and her father was an environmental management tech who had been smitten with her from the first time he’d met her on the reservation. They both encouraged her activism. Her long raven colored hair hung straight and glossy. She had a carefree, thrift shop chic look that she managed to pull off with her Ugg boots, Save the Whales t-shirt and knee ripped jeans. A strict vegetarian, except for the occasional chicken nugget, she sometimes felt guilty about all the lettuce that gave its life for her salads.
She’d begged her parents for a trip to observe pandas in the wild for her upcoming thirteenth birthday. Her passion was conservation and she had inherited some her parent’s radicalism. When she got older, she wanted to take on Japanese whalers, big game hunters, loggers, real estate developers, oil company pipelines and anyone else who might harm an animal.
In her young mind, it was perfectly natural for animals to prey on one another, just not man. Man had no business interfering with the natural order of things. She had been proud to carry a homemade sign outside of a meat packing plant, protesting the wholesale slaughter of animals and the deplorable conditions in which those animals lived out their short lives. Sure, people had to eat too, but she believed there had to be a better way. More harmonious and in tune with nature. She believed strongly in spaying and neutering to prevent unwanted litters. She loved baby animals and hated to see them discarded by careless owners and she cried every time a commercial came on TV about animal cruelty.
The walls of her room were covered in posters of cute animals and she sent ten percent of her allowance to PETA without fail every week. Most weekends she volunteered at the animal shelter and would have adopted all of them if she could. In an ironic twist of fate, her mother was allergic to dogs and her father, cats. She was relegated to caring for a solitary goldfish named Terry, but Terry lived as well as any goldfish ever had, so there was that.
Her biggest passion though was wolves. She loved them! The pack mentality and the mating for life: It was so romantic. All those dumb ranchers out west raising a stink about a few missing sheep drove her nuts. They were wolves! What else were they supposed to eat? Personally, she couldn’t imagine eating a fluffy little lamb, but wolves needed meat and more importantly, wolf cubs needed meat. They were so cute! It was the circle of life and that was cool with her. Mother Earth knew what she was doing.
Swan reached her destination and stared through the enclosure at the magnificent male Timber Wolf laying in the shade. His eyes were alert and darting as he surveyed his surroundings and kept an eye on his mate as she fed on a chunk of raw meat. She admired their thick silvery gray coats and the large canine teeth. Sinewy limbs built for speed and endurance. Graceful and effortless in their motions, they were truly apex predators and she loved everything about them. It saddened her to see them in their enclosure, even though it was very nice by any zoo standards. They should be free to run wild and hunt. Zero was definitely an Alpha and with his mate, Lucy, by his side, he would easily rule over any pack.
Zero and Lucy had been born in different petting zoos thousands of miles apart but were together now, mates for life. She snapped a few photos with her phone and posted it to her Instagram account. Later in the day, a handler would appear and lead them out to greet visitors. Despite their size and the sharpness of their teeth, the two were as gentle as puppies. They had been born in captivity as had their parents and their parents before them. They’d never known the wild and were as friendly as any family dog. Later the crowds would come but for right now she had them all to herself.
Inspired she pulled out her notebook and started writing bad poetry about the majestic hunters. “Now, what rhymes with wolf?” She asked herself.
After several minutes of deliberation and eraser chewing, she decided to file the poem away for later. Great poetry couldn’t be rushed.
Honking horns and what sounded like a scream broke the silence and Zero stood quickly and looked toward the front of the zoo. Hackles raised and lip curled, he let out a low growl. Lucy moved in beside him, guarding his flank and protecting her mate and there was a low rumble in her throat too. They didn’t seem so cute and cuddly anymore as Swan snapped another photo of the two regal animals ready for battle. She was surprised but pleased to see the wild in them come out. She had kind of hated that they seemed so docile and gentle, they were wolves after all.
She gathered up her bag and gear. She had all day to visit with them and whatever the disturbance was, it sounded serious. People were so stupid sometimes, she thought. Animals didn’t engage in petty behavior; if there was a problem, they solved it right then and there. They ate when they were hungry, they drank when they were thirsty and they mated when they wanted to mate. They didn’t fight for petty reasons but if they did, they fought to kill. Only people got angry over little things that didn’t matter.
6
Annalise and Tobias
The twin brother and sister duo of Tobias and Annalise Richter made their way through the sanctuary eating the snow cones they had purchased at the snack bar. Pale blue eyes, hair so blonde it appeared almost white and alabaster skinned, they were an eye-catching pair. They evoked thoughts of elven children from some frozen fairy realm. Tall and slender, elegant in their movements, they had an air of aloofness as if they were visitors to this world and not just a couple of twelve-year olds from Iowa. They were an odd pair, preferring each other’s company to that of others, quick to finish the other’s sentences and communicating at times with just their fa
cial expressions. They had the same uncanny bond that most twins shared and their ability to sense each other’s thoughts seemed like telepathy at times.
According to their online genealogy research, they were descendants of the Nordic peoples. Their Scandinavian forefathers were Vikings and explorers. Mighty warriors and fearless women. They were proud that their ancient ancestors were the first people to set foot on the continent of North America, not Christopher Columbus as so many people erroneously believed. They preferred to think of themselves as children of the Norse God of Thunder, Thor instead of Dennis and Tina Richter. Not to be confused with Thor from the comics and movies, although Annalise thought he was hot.
As similar as they appeared, they were very different. Annalise was filled with humor and compassion, whereas Tobias tended to be snarky and serious. She took things lightly, not letting much bother her while he tended to be hot headed. He suffered no affronts to his sister and fists would fly when someone dared to make a rude comment about her unusual appearance.
They arrived at the polar bear enclosure where Popsicle and Daisy were tussling over an old tractor tire. The cooler fall temperatures made the bears more active. They were rescue animals who’d been at Piedmont many years. As orphaned cubs in Greenland with a knack for raiding garbage cans and showing no fear of man, authorities were concerned that as they grew they could become dangerous. Not wanting to put them down, inquiries were made to different animal sanctuaries and Piedmont was quick to take them.
Popsicle was an impressive 1200 pounds and ten feet long from nose to tail, although during the cold Iowa winters he and Daisy both would gain another fifty or sixty pounds as the frigid weather was more suited to their natural habitats.
Daisy, at 750 pounds and seven and half feet long, was no slouch in the size department either. She slid effortlessly into the pool and swam to the other end, climbed out chewing on a fish and gave a huge shake, spraying the delighted twins with water.
Their enclosure featured a swimming pool that the staff kept stocked with live fish and an icemaker purchased from a defunct commercial fishing operation. It dumped a steady stream of ice directly into the pool during the warmer months.
Annalise and Tobias chose to do their study on the polar bears because sometime in the past they thought their ancestors had probably fought with and against, or maybe even worshipped the mighty giants.
Tobias’s youthful mind conjured images of their ancestors charging into battle astride the magnificent beasts, swords and battle axes clenched in the fists of the Northmen, the riders and their mounts one in mind and purpose as they raided the frozen country in search of honor, riches and glory. He wasn’t sure if people actually rode polar bears, but he liked the thought of it.
The twins dreamed of working side by side studying the effects of global warming. Maybe winning the Nobel Prize for their work. After high school they would attend college together, move right into research and when each found their respective mates, they would all live under one roof. They had it all planned out.
The twins watched as Popsicle rose to his hind legs, ears perked and fur rising along his back. Daisy lowered herself and rumbled a deep growl as the light breeze brought a smell to their sensitive nostrils that signaled danger.
Screams of agony drifted on the breeze, snapping each of the twins from their daydreaming. Tobias raised an eyebrow and Annalise responded with an almost imperceptible nod. The pair took off at a dead run, their long legs eating up the distance as they headed for the sanctuary entrance.
7
Murray
Murray Sanders stopped his wheelchair in front of the haunted mansion. Halloween was still a month away but the staff were already decorating the visitors’ center in preparation. It was an old rambling house, its Victorian architecture giving it an appropriately spooky vibe as the starting point for the haunted hayride. He approved of the grinning pumpkins and ghosts in the upstairs windows. Vampires, werewolves, zombies and chainsaw wielding maniacs thrilled him to no end. Even before his accident, he spent a lot of time staying up late watching every scary movie he could find and slaying monsters by the thousands with his Xbox controller. He was a huge fan of movies and spouted pop culture references whenever he was excited or nervous, though most of his quips went over people’s heads.
Most of his old friends didn’t come around anymore to see him; it was just too awkward for everyone. When he took the dare on his bicycle to jump the homemade ramp at the bottom of the hill, they all cheered him on. None of them saw the van that took away all of the feeling in his lower body until it was too late. The driver sped away in a panic instead of stopping and calling an ambulance. He was never caught, never had to stand trial, never apologized to the boy he had crippled. Murray knew it was his own fault as much as the drivers’, he shouldn’t have been in the street, but he couldn’t help but feel bitter that no one ran to help him. That he had been alone and afraid for what seemed like a long time.
When the van hit him all of his friends ran away. They were all young and scared and pedaled home to tell parents as fast as they could. He didn’t blame them; they didn’t know any better. They didn’t think to run up to the nearest house and pound on the door. What did kids know about spinal injuries? They didn’t know you were supposed to lay still and not move. They thought they were doing the right thing, riding away to get help as fast as they could. He was worried about a car coming and running over him and his instincts told him to get off the road. He had been able to crawl to the sidewalk before the first grownup noticed him but by then the damage had been done. He hadn’t felt the bones grating against his spinal cord and finally severing it as he struggled up the curb.
After the accident, he simply gave up. He lost all interest in gaming and the movies that he loved. He refused to see anyone and barely ate. He sat in his room and listened to the other kids running and playing. The sound of skateboard wheels on asphalt or the hum of bicycle tires drove him further into himself.
He was smart, almost gifted, and had an aptitude for all things mechanical. The bicycle ramp at the bottom of Cedar Hill road, the one that was supposed to send you flying through the air but land softly on an incline, had been his design. He could do three-digit multiplication in his head, he understood Algebra and he’d dreamed of becoming an engineer before his life changed. His parents tried to treat him just like before the accident, to pretend it was just an inconvenience to be overcome and not the end of the world. What did they know? They weren’t the ones trapped in a chair. He heard his mother cry when she thought he was asleep and he saw the crumpled-up wads of paper in the trash where his father had been trying to find ways to pay the high costs of his medical bills. He knew he was useless and a drain on everyone around him.
Bitter and angry with the world, he watched in disgust as the volunteers installed a wheel chair ramp on the front of his house. They might as well hang a glowing neon sign in the yard: HELPLESS CRIPPLE LIVES HERE.
He resented them for their pity. He wanted to run them off, curse them and show them he didn’t need their help but running was no longer an option.
No one was able to break through the wall he’d built around himself. He refused to do therapy. What was the point? He fell behind in his classes, even the ones he used to ace without a problem. He used any excuse he could to get out of going to school where he heard the whispers and people made way for his wheelchair like it was contagious. Nobody knew what to say to him and he didn’t make it easy for them. Finally, everyone stopped trying and he was fine with that. He hated the world, the world hated him back and that was just the way it was.
He continued his mental and physical descent until the day his dad wheeled him into the van modified for his wheelchair. His father ignored Murray’s grumbling and questions about being dragged from his self-imposed prison. Murray’s sour attitude was answered with silence as the van carried him somewhere he’d never been.
When they arrived at the YMCA Murray complained and t
ried to argue that he didn’t want to go. He didn’t need to attend yet another program for cripples. His dad ignored his protests and wheeled him inside.
Rows of folding chairs had been set up in the gymnasium facing a man in a wheelchair wearing an Army t-shirt. His arms were corded in heavy muscle as he rolled his chair back and forth across the hardwood floors of the basketball court and he had a little brown monkey sitting on one shoulder.
He saw other people in wheelchairs like his own and a lot of them were military veterans. They had stumps of legs sticking out where IED’s had brutally amputated them. Others, like him, whole, but broken.
The man introduced himself as Sergeant Walker, grinned at the irony, and began speaking. Murray went from morose to riveted. The Sergeant told the crowd about putting a gun his own mouth, ready to end his life after the incident that paralyzed him. He told them how he’d given up hope for a productive life. Murray hung on every word and knew exactly what he was talking about. He felt the same way. But this guy had gotten past it, he was a real beast. He wasn’t letting the chair own him. He owned the chair. It was a tool to keep him in life, not out of it. He’d lost the use of his legs, but his mind was as powerful as the massive arms he flexed at the crowd. He told them how he competed in wheelchair races, climbed mountains and entered body building contests. The whole time his little monkey capered and fetched him different things he wanted to show them. The little fellow dragged over a white board for him to draw on. Fetched a golden trophy his basketball team had won in the State championship. He picked up a marker he’d dropped and even put money in a soda machine and brought back a diet coke.
Animals Page 3
