skip to main |
skip to sidebar
I
jumped over a shrub, swerved a boxy beast, and darted across the grey
track. Safe on the other side, I stood on the grassy bank and looked
back. Boxy beasts moved in lines with low rumbles and owl-like hoots.
They didn't look like any creature I'd seen in the wild before. Hot
air puffed out of my nostrils and my chest heaved, so this was what
out of the woods looked like? I snorted, stamped my feet and charged
over the bank and into a large field, pausing to bend my head and
chomp on a yellow flower. Hmmm, not bad, but not as tasty as the ones
at home. My jaw stopped mid-chew as my attention was diverted by
distant sounds, but when I pricked up my ears, I didn't recognise
them. Their pitch was different to any mammal I'd heard in the woods
before. Were these howls of play or were they to mark territory? Do I
turn around or press forwards? I couldn't call it...
I
glanced behind, to my left, to my right, and straight ahead, but all
I spotted was a couple of crows circling above. I knew I had to find
out what was making these noises, so I trampled the ground until the
howls got closer. Small creatures came into view that were howling
and running on their hind-legs. They didn't have antlers and some had
tails cascading from their heads. One with no tail raised his front
leg at me and bellowed. The others halted and stared in my direction,
and then gathered round a taller, upright mammal. I stood proudly.
They must know who I am: The Great Prince of the Forest.
“Cor',
look at him Miss!” Said the boy still pointing.
“Children,
stay off the playing field! Hattie, go and fetch the Headmaster.”
Miss Crawley said struggling to maintain order. Some girls had begun
to leap around shrieking, “A deer! Oh deer, oh deer!” And then
collapsing in giggles. Others were picking daisies to make him a
crown. The boys were grouped together, taking shots with pretend
rifles and “Bang-bangs!” The stag watched on with interest, his
muscles scarcely twitching.
“Class
Three, BE QUIET!” They could tell from Miss Crawley's tone that she
meant it. “Whisper or you'll scare him.”
“He
doesn't look very scared to me Miss.” Whispered the boy, “Bet
those antlers would hurt if they pierced you.” He mimed his
imaginary death convincingly.
“Luke,
that's quite enough.” She said exasperated. “Where has Mr.
Kingsbury got to?”
“He's
coming now Miss.” said Luke as loud footsteps rang out across the
school-yard.
“What's
this about a deer?” Mr Kingsbury asked tiredly as he took off his
glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he replaced them,
Luke was again pointing in the stag's direction. Mr Kingsbury inhaled
sharply, “What a beauty!”
“Never
mind that! What are we going to do?” If we do nothing and the
parents find out, they'll say we risked their children's safety, but
if we call in a licensed hunter then the vegetarian ones will
complain Bambi was needlessly shot!” Muttered Miss Crawley in
hushed angry tones.
“Venison,
haven't had that in a long time. I wonder if we should add it to the
school menu.” Mused Mr. Kingsbury. “Sorry Miss Crawley, you were
saying? Why do we need to do anything? He looks harmless to me and
besides we can say his visit is educational.”
As they
were locked in their battle, the school bell rang loudly. The stag,
startled by this new sound, bolted.
“Matter
closed. The Great Prince has returned to the forest.” Mr. Kingsbury
mumbled, striding back to his office to a plate of digestives and a
mug of lukewarm tea.
One new
message from Leonardo DiCaprio my inbox said. “What does he want?”
I wondered aloud as if it was an everyday occurrence, quickly
followed with “Oh My God, Leo's contacting me! Finally!” For a
moment I got lost in the fantasy, instead of asking myself
rationally: Why? How?
With
trepidation, I hovered the cursor over his name and clicked to open
it. A photo of Leo jumped up in the top right hand corner. On the
left side, the message begun: 'Dear
friends...'
I let out a puff of disappointment, so it wasn't personal after all.
In a stern voice, I reprimanded myself, “Get a grip, why would it
be? Come back to reality!” I let my mind linger a bit in movie
flashbacks of Romeo & Juliet, Titanic, Catch Me If You Can,
Revolutionary Road, and The Aviator, which reminded me how much I
can't wait to see him in The Great Gatsby. Well, if Leo's involved,
it must be important I thought...
The
message continued: 'Across
Africa, elephants are being slaughtered by poachers in record numbers
- and their tusks hacked off with chainsaws - to make luxury items,
statues and trinkets in Asia. But in days, Thailand will host a key
global summit on illegal trade in endangered species, giving us a
rare chance to stop this futile massacre.'
Leo had
teamed up with Avaaz, (it means 'Voice' in several languages), an
organisation I befriended after my Aunt forwarded a link to me.
Globally, they mobilise instant campaigns through community
petitioning: asking people to sign an online register. A small action
that only takes a minute, but makes a real difference worldwide. The
first time I signed, it was a petition to save bees, as I believe
every part of nature has a vital role and sometimes you have to act
to protect it. But this time, I signed not because of Leo, but
because I'm appalled by this trade. I'm nauseated by this
premeditation, by the intention to harm. I cannot bear the thought of
elephants being poached for their ivory. It's a waste of a
magnificent beast that is both great-hearted and playful. An elephant
in mourning is touching and dreadful. They do not forget; they're
very respectful. Herds consist of a matriarch (the oldest female),
daughters, aunties, and their calves, and are a demonstration of girl
power. A protective matriarchal line, a tight bond strengthened by
sisterhood. The males tend to lead a more solitary life.
This
deep family attachment perhaps explains why so many people are drawn
to them; their emotions are human-like: they display grief, anger and
joy. Orphaned calves love to play a game of 5-a-side, ears flapping
like Dumbo as they dribble the ball, or squealing when they
inadvertently trunk-ball. Elephants have a long memory and, like a
child, engaging in play is a sign of recovery. But the cause of this
pain is inhumane and destructive. The illegal ivory trade has to be
prevented.
On
the 3rd
of March, The Thai Prime Minister, Yingluck Shinawatra, pledged to
end the ivory trade after nearly 1.4 million supporters joined in the
campaign, but is this enough? It's a vocal promise that needs real
action behind it. We need people power to keep the pressure up to
save elephants and their tusks!
Avaaz
Tap-Tap...
What was that? Was it a knock at the door?
“Who
is it?” I called.
“It's
only me.” A familiar voice said as I peeped through the spyhole.
With my
little eye, I spied an old woman, in a navy blue coat with her grey
hair scraped back from her face, standing outside in the corridor. I
let out a relieved sigh as I recognised Mum. Sometimes she turns up
unannounced bearing snippets of news or food parcels. A motherly
check of 'she's okay', despite speaking every night on the phone. Dad
and the dog usually wait in the car downstairs to fend off any
over-zealous parking inspectors. Ever since I was small, his mindset
has been: 'You can't be too careful these days.'
I
stifled a giggle as I unchained the safety catch, pulled back the
dead bolt, and opened the door a crack. It's like Fort Knox I thought
– too secure. I live in an entry-phone community, yet too often
I've had a tap-tap on the door from unsolicited couriers who've
wandered in or memorised the code.
“Are
you coming in?” I asked.
“Quickly.”
She replied and made an attempt to bustle pass me.
I
blocked her, “Shoes off!” I ordered, as I wondered if either of
them obeyed this rule when I'm not here? Should I rethink the spare
keys?
I
watched as Mum unfastened velcro flaps, slipping each shoe off and
placing them side-by-side on the doormat. In socked feet, she padded
through and headed straight for the open-plan lounge/kitchen.
“I
got you these.” She said pulling out mini-cans of ratatouille and
pease pudding from coat pockets, “Oh, and these.” She fumbled
with the coat's inner lining and revealed sealed bags of dried fruit.
“And
I thought you might be interested in this.” She added as she thrust
the latest Waitrose Kitchen into my hands.
“Thanks.”
I muttered a tad overwhelmed by the assortment of goods she's
supplying. It's all above board, but her conduct makes me feel I'm
dabbling in the black market.
“Right,
that's your lot. Same time next week.” A brisk peck on the cheek
and before I've even said goodbye, she's gone.
There's
nothing quite like a mother's love; it's full of surprises, even
furtive ones. Sometimes I arrive home and find articles in my post
box, or I walk in to tins lined up
on the work-surface, a bag of frozen veg stuffed in the freezer, and
juice in the fridge door. In the past, I tried to get her to stop,
but it got worse. I ended up with all the 2 for 1, 3 for 4, or bogof
deals; I never knew what I might come home to, so now we have an
arrangement: I put an order in and she supplies it. Occasionally, a
rogue item slips in or she'll make wild substitutions, the same as
online shopping, but in return you receive a personal service. The
whole system is designed around her need-to-be-mothering: to nurture
an adult who, at no matter what age, she will always see as her
child.
As
a people, we have conflicting views on animals. We divide them up
into vermin, pets or food. They're pests, best friends, or meat to
be consumed. We like our wildlife to be approachable
and cuddly, and want to get rid of any insect, bird or mammal that
encroaches on human territory. Or worse, we pillage their food for
our own selfish purposes. I don't have a problem with people eating
meat, but I do have a problem with this attitude. I don't understand
how we as humans can pick and choose. How can we pet some animals and
mistreat others, often for no reason? How can we wolf down the meat
from some, but be repulsed at the thought of eating others? Why
doesn't the human race understand that the natural world is essential
to their survival?
Badgers
and foxes must be culled; krill must be exploited; and sustainable
palm oil must be promoted. We trawl sea beds and cut rainforests
down. We take more than we put back, thus destroying natural
habitats, but do we care? We believe we do, but we don't always
demonstrate this attitude. Ignorance is bliss and suppliers have
cottoned on to this. We readily accept what we're told, as then we
can't be held responsible and it's easier than digging for the truth.
Granted, consumers could not have known about the horse meat in their
bolognese and they should be allowed to decide what to buy by making
an informed decision. The fact that the meat might have been
contaminated was concerning, but no more than other drugs used in
animal feed. Essentially, this is a supply chain and labelling issue.
If you like eating meat, then meat is meat isn't it? A horse is no
different than reindeer, ostrich, or kangaroo. Eating meat is not
wrong if you realise it's hypocritical to refuse to eat the flesh of
one if you're happy to eat others. Personally, I'd rather you knew
exactly what animal you were tucking into and how it came to be
butchered. Instead we take away the name it's known by, its physical
shape and face; it becomes a cut or a lump of mince.
The
horse meat scandal is fraudulence on an grandiose scale and a
European Public Relations disaster, but I don't wish vegetarianism to
benefit from this. Many veggies and vegans will disagree and believe
this is the perfect opportunity to 'convert' people to vegetarianism.
Perhaps it is, but it won't be long-term, it will out of concern for
food safety. Consumers will be persuaded to switch to other
alternatives like Quorn, chicken, fish or lamb. It will change how we
shop, but it won't be about the welfare of animals.
Does
this matter? Many vegetarians would argue 'No', as new members means
more benefits to animals, health and the environment, but I feel
differently. I dislike backlashes to news as they're short-lived and
not thought through. I've only seen one programme that highlighted
the conditions horses are slaughtered in and for me that takes
priority. The footage was distressing, yet 'Dispatches' were correct
in showing it. If horse meat is 'normalised', we're basically saying
this practice is okay.
This
food scare won't be the last, more will follow, and who's to say the
next won't directly affect vegetarians. It may seem unlikely, but is
it? Because at the core of most scares is processed foods and
switching to other brands won't make food any safer. As consumers, we
think we're at the end of the chain, but we're the first link in it.