Sitting in the shade, grateful for an empty bench among all
the animal cages, I felt his eyes on me, even though there appeared to be no
one else around.
No shit, Sherlock, and there he was.
On the other side of the worn wooden deck, stood a huge
Marabou stork, upright and defiant, only 7 feet away.
He was staring me down.
We played the “Who’s going to blink first” game for a few
minutes, until I said a silent “OK, fuck it” and engaged.
“Dude! I didn’t see you there! Whazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzsup?”
He had been blank until then. I wanted to get him talking so
I asked him to tell me his elevator story.
“You know, tell me about yourself in the time it would take
to get to the 18th floor. Where you from?
Marabou: “Africa, south of the Sahara.” He answered.
“You’re quite a bird! Huge! Can you even fly?”
That got him bragging.
Marabou: “In addition to hollow leg bones, I have hollow toe
bones. That weight cut allows me to fly like a gazelle runs. It’s a beautiful
thing. You should see me.”
(I lied and told him
that hollow toe bones had always been high on my wish list, which encouraged
him to continue.)
Marabou: “We Marabou storks are bald-headed.” He boasted.
(He acted like that was a good thing in the Marabou world although
he did have a little ball of reddish hair on the back of his noggin that
reminded me of my great Aunt Jeedie when she was fresh from having her hair
fried at the beauty parlor. Mainly I thought: Been there, done that, still
doing that bald thing. We’re Simpatico!)
Marabou: “All us guys carry large air sacs. We have a long,
reddish pouch hanging from our necks. The pouch is used in our courtship
rituals. Mine is especially beautiful. Chicks love it.”
(I was thinking that human guys could have their balls
transplanted to their necks and see how that works out. Fill them full of silicon
to get that irresistible look of a two-foot scrotum hanging off our chins.)
Marabou: Like our cousins, those Turkey Vulture in the next pen over, we Marabou Storks defecate on our legs and feet to stay and look cool!”
(Not everyone’s cup of tea I thought but then after all, we
start out in life shitting ourselves and get back to it by the time we’re
almost done. No biggie, I may rather enjoy warming my feet like that on a cold
day.)
I had started thinking about lunch and asked him: “What do
you guys eat?”
Marabou: “All of us love a good grass fire or large burns. We
march in front of the advancing flames grabbing animals that are fleeing. It’s an
awesome buffet. Many of those delicious, stupid critters are already partially
grilled!”
(I couldn’t help
admiring his ingenuity.)
Marabou: “I love nothing more than a nice dead elephant for
din-din. I’ll eat carcasses and rotting material, anything from termites, flamingos’
small birds and mammals to human refuse and dead elephants. I may be a foodie,
but I’m flexible.”
I had to ask: “But how do you feel about being locked up and
on display?”
Then he grew dark, feeling misunderstood.
Marabou: Who is on display here, who’s watching who? What do
you really know? Some idiot suggested that we are lazy birds, because we spend so
much of our time standing around motionless…and that’s true. But if you were
always thinking about quarks, hadrons, dark matter and the stability of protons
like I do, you would need a lot of private time to really concentrate too.”
“Good point” I offered. “So maybe you want me to move along?”
Marabou: “That would be best for both of us. I’m tired of
you. You seem quite dull, and to be honest, I would have much more interest in
you if you were dead and rotting.”
Getting up to go find the rest of my group, I couldn’t help
thinking that maybe Mr. Marabou was right. Humans are the ones on display on
the world stage, being observed for the long haul. We’re the ones who will eventually be running
from burning buildings.
He scowled at me as I was walking away.
We both knew that if,
and when, humans run out of the fires, he and his buddies will be waiting…
hmh
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