Panda

Monday May 27, 2013

Giant Panda, 1951 (population boom in China)
Male, 93 kg


Leaving Again
Away
Finding
Another Place
To call
Home
Not Easy
Many Caves
None feel
Right
Lumbering
Lumbering
Past one
Cave to the
Next
So Quiet
Humans and
Beasts have
Scared Away
Many
Thirsty
Tired
Stopping
Stopping
Random Cave
Walk In
Collapse
Out until
Morning
Open Eyes
Groggy
Blurry
In a Cave
Quiet Still
Cave a little like
My Old Home
I like It
A Lot
Maybe this will be
My new Home.
Bamboo
Strips
Eating
Eating
More
More
So much moving from
Yesterday
I take all my chances
To
Rest and Eat.
I head back to the
Cave
Rest
Rest
Need
Rest
VROOM
Noise
VROOM
Loud
I Must Leave
Now
I Run
Out of the Cave
My new Home
Will it still be Here?
Eyes Open
Scared
It sounds like the Monsters
From a few days ago
The sound Grows
Louder
Louder
I Must
Run Away
I Run
in the Opposite
Direction of
the Noise
That horrible
Noise.
I skid into a Cave
Maybe they will be gone soon
So I can return
Hopefully.
I look around the Cave
Hear a
SNARL
Glare
Who is It
Another Creature
Like Me
Stands Up
Tall
Towering
Unwelcoming
Fur Bristling
Eyes Glittering
Teeth Too Sharp
He Wants me to
Get Out
This is His Place
Get Out
Get Out
Get Out
I Turn
And run out of the
Cave
Flee
Flee

Dog


Tuesday May 28, 2013
Dog, present-day


purebred gray and white pit bull, 9 kg



“We’re here.” The car jolted to a final stop, with a sound from the front that meant we were to get out. I stood up and started to pace. We all grew restless.

“Shaddup!” Al growled. “Man, I can’t wait to get rid of these dogs.”
The Humans got out. I watched them through the small window, scrambling to turn when they moved to the side of the Car, around to the back of the trunk. Al opened it and I saw the world outside.
And then, another Human. So far I’d only seen a few of these Creatures in my life. The one in the grassy field with that other thing, a dog but not like me or my family, was also a new one. I saw this Human, with the same traits of furless skin except for the mop on their head, and bright materials on their bodies called clothes. But it was different than the Humans I knew. The four of them were not related. I barked at it. It was a female.

“Shaddup!” Mary slammed against the side of my crate, tumbling me to the back of the wires where they dug into my back. Hurt. I had barked. Hurt had reproached me. But this was familiar. The Human and my surroundings? Not so much.

“Hello, Joclyn,” Mary said to the new Human. I stared at her and bared my teeth a little. She was a shrewd small Human with short dark fur and something over her eyes. But Mary’s voice was sweet and kind to the Human. Too sweet and kind; it was fake. I didn’t trust Mary so I wouldn’t trust the newcomer.
All of us barked and snarled at her. Instead she peered over at us and inspected us. I snarled. The things on her face enlarged her eyes. It was creepy.
“They’ve haven’t been socialized. At all,” she remarked. “I’ll bet the only humans they’ve ever seen are you two.”
“And the doctor and the people we drive by, Joclyn,” Al said defensively. The new Human was “Joclyn,” I noticed.
The Human looked at him critically. “Do you really think that’s all these dogs need, Al?”
Al’s temper rose immediately, and he bared his teeth. Not noticing his expression, the new Human bared hers back, only she acted genuinely.
I didn’t like this person, who infuriated Al even faster than Mary or us dogs did. And when Al was angry, that meant hurts for us. I shrank and reminded myself to resent this “Joclyn.”
“And what is this? Scratch marks? Is that made by the glass of a beer bottle?” She swooped down low and looked at my chest with her owl eyes. I snarled and lunged at the cage door. Mary shouted and slammed me to the back. Hurt. Lots of it. My leg folded underneath me, and I whined as loud as I could. Mary was about to slap the crate again, but Joclyn grabbed her arm. Hatred and daggers oozed from my Human’s eyes.
“You know I could report you for animal abuse, right?” Joclyn said calmly.
“You can’t accuse us of anything. We’ve been good caretakers,” Mary snapped defiantly, to which Joclyn make a snorting sound at.
“Good? You beat them. You put them in tiny wire crates. Abandonment. Neglect. You throw beer bottles at them. And they stink. You leave them wallowing in their own filth. There’s crap on their paws. They’re so small. Animal abuse. You call this good?”
“They must be beaten to be broken in; stupid beasts like them wouldn’t learn any other way,” Al grunted. “They must obey the master that rules over them. That master is me, because I break them in and I give them sturdy discipline. They obey me.”
“They fear you, Al.” Joclyn, despite her tiny size, seemed to grow taller than Al’s huge frame. At that time I didn’t notice, but now I remember that it was one of the most interesting parts about a Human; with a small size you could still be more powerful than a huge brute like Al. In the dog world, you would be gobbled up.
“Will you take them in or not?” Mary sighed impatiently, but I noted the fear in her eyes. What was she so scared about? Al was her Mate and if Joclyn did anything Al was there.
Joclyn frowned. “I will for your sakes. And the dogs’.” She looked at us and I glared at her. I felt that she was sticking up for us, but not because she cared for us. Because there were benefits. That was how Humans worked. There was even a certain disinterest in the Human towards us.
“You’re talking about a pay raise.” Mary sounded defeated, like she’d had the other day in the fight with Al. It wasn’t a question, either.
Joclyn reached over and grabbed the first crate, my brother’s. He scrabbled on the bare wire floor and whimpered in fear. Al’s eyes glowed and it looked as if he were going to slap my brother, but his cage was in Joclyn’s arms. In her arms, we were safe, I supposed, from that huge hurting hand.
“This is the black market, Mary. To protect you two from the law I’ll take them in. But there’s maintenance and keeping the dogs clean, giving them a safe environment, feeding, erasing your records...” Joclyn looked up to the sky and made motions with her hands. I looked up too. There was nothing interesting. But what she was saying was making Al angry. I instinctively crawled to the back of my crate.
“Alright alright! Just shut up and get the dogs outta here.” Al grabbed fistfuls of paper from a pouch that smelled enticingly like leather, and started unloading the cages roughly from the Car. I didn’t know where we were...this was completely different from where we usually touched down after a Car ride.
My crate was being picked up by Joclyn. She smelled unfamiliar and thankfully, the odors of smoke and the stinging stuff didn’t cling to her the way they clung to my Humans. But I didn’t know her. She wasn’t the person in the bright building. I tried to resist growling to avoid hurts.
She set down my cage. I looked up. It was a huge Human dwelling, much bigger than the Humans’. I was somewhere different, where the air was fresh and trees sprang up everywhere. Plants gave off interesting scents, as did the porch; all waiting to be explored. I grew excited, but the real reason of why we were here was still unclear.
I was too interested in my surroundings to really look back at the Humans, talking and doing business. I poked my nose out from the wires and sniffed at everything I could. My crate was close to a leaf, so I bit that off and tried tasting it.
And then before I knew it, my brother whined. It was a small whine; he was shrewd. But I turned back around and realized that Joclyn was standing there, making movements with her hands and looking into the distance.
Alone.
The Car was gone.
That was fear in itself. I had not learned to become independent from my Humans, however horrendous they were.
But.
Where was my mother?

Tri-colored Blackbird



Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Tri-colored Blackbird- present day Sacramento, California, Female, 42 g
Every bird is starving. There is nothing to eat here, other than what little can be scavenged out of these big open black barrels that reek of rotten stink and flat-faces’ food. A bird, desperate, at a little bit of it. He died the next day, screeching as he lay there, unable to move. Since then, we have been too afraid to eat. My chicks are wailing now, but I have nothing to feed them. If only there were seeds. If only we were not driven out. I think that it will be our doom. Despite many doubts, we have decided to leave. Many are afraid, after seeing dozens of birds killed by the monsters or killed by the poisonous reeking food. They want somewhere better, somewhere safe. I couldn’t bear to say that there probably isn’t any safe place for us left. So we leave, our flock a little bit diminished, but almost as big as before. We are fortunate we haven’t lost more. Even though many of us are too weak to fly, we have decided to risk it anyways. There is no chance of the flock splitting up. We will never do that, even if it means death. What would we be if we didn’t have a colony? So we fly together south. If a few drop of starvation, we will try to carry them. If we can’t, we will have to leave them. This is what it comes down to. Survival of the fittest.
We have started a long journey again, the second in three days. This will be an even longer journey, and who knows the outcome? My chicks are growing up on the run, and as time passes, my hope fades. I hope we can settle somewhere fast, because I do not think my chicks can take much more. They must fly themselves, despite being so new at it. It is unnatural for them, and I am afraid that one will drop out of the sky at any moment.
We’ve landed. A very quiet place, not like the place we went earlier with all the buildings. There are a few one floor wooden buildings here and there, but they seem very simple. There aren’t even flat faces in sight. And I even see grass. Real grass, which the place with all the tall buildings doesn’t have. The sky is clear. It is really far from our previous place, but is it possible to live here? I do not think we can find a place without flat faces anymore, but maybe this will be good enough. I do not think we can take our chances and try to find another place.
I think it’s time to stay here. Flying around, I see grain fields all over the place. I also see cows on the hills, munching and eating and walking all over the hill the whole time. It’s like they don’t know how to do anything else. I like this place, though. It is similar to our old home. I want to stay with the colony, so I hope that they will choose this place. I think that many birds, especially like this place. It has a certain feeling of comfort that I can’t ignore. It even makes me feel like we can be accepted. I don’t think that the flat-faces will be able to ignore a big colony of tricolored blackbirds. But maybe these flat-faces are different. Maybe there are still a few decent flat-faces in the world.
We have decided to stay here. I don’t think that anyone wants to leave. So far, there has been no sight of flat-faces, and there is still all that grain out there. For the first time in our journey, everyone feels full and content. It isn’t time to make new nests yet. For now, I am focusing on my chicks, who are growing up very quickly. When I build a new nest, and care for new chicks, I hope that they can grow up peacefully and have a good life in this grain field. I hope that this grain field won’t be cut up like the other one. I hope that this grain field will be left untouched, for the sake of the colony and for the chicks. And even for the sake of our survival.

Dog

Wednesday May 29, 2013


Dog, present-day
]
purebred gray and white pit bull, 9 kg
I whined, screamed, thrashed when I realized my mother was not with me. The crate toppled to the side and hurt exploded from my body, but I ignored it. My mother. Gone. That was much more important than anything that would go away, like hurt. My mother was gone forever.

I resented this Joclyn Human even more, for separating my family. She didn’t care about us anyway; and I didn’t care to leave my Humans. Only that food would be gone.

I had never been separated before, not from my mother. I was always with her. It was strange. I screamed and howled with my brothers and sisters, wondering where she went. Joclyn yelled at us, but I was used to it so I ignored the Human. I expected the beating and the hurt that accompanied yelling, but to my surprise there was none. It made me howl all the more.
My heart was broken. It was crushed. The only prized possession in my life, my mother, had been taken away from me. I depended on her all my life. She was my only comfort, my only role model. I had never met my father. I knew there was another part of me that was my father’s blood, but at that moment I hadn’t even known I had a father. My mother was gone. I didn’t know what to do. Neither did my siblings. We hadn’t even thought of the possibility of seeing her again. We didn’t know what would happen next; we didn’t see into the future. Dogs only live in the present.
Joclyn grew tired of our terrified constant whines. She didn’t understand; like all Humans, she hated dogs. She just put up with us because she had to. Like all Humans. She didn’t have a heart. She didn’t understand what we were going through. And if she did, she didn’t care. I could sense that in all Humans. All the Humans I’ve known were all the Humans I’ve ever seen.
The Human sighed and began carrying the crates into the big Human dwelling. I didn’t recognize it. We gave her a hard time, thrashing in the cages and snarling and snapping at her when we could, unbalancing her as she moved us in. I could still smell the stench of my old home, and the scent of my mother lingered on my fur. I whined at the thought, growling at Joclyn when she picked up my crate.
Over the next few days, we ended up at her house. I hoped it was temporary. She let us loose in one rectangular empty room and we ran around, going to the bathroom wherever we wanted to. She only came in occasionally to refill the bowls of food and water, let out for us to free-feed when we wanted, or to clean up the messes we made. There were barely any toys except a rubber bone and each other. The bone was chewed up in the first couple hours. My brothers and sisters either lay around listlessly or howled at the small window in the corner of the stuffy empty room. No one played with each other. We didn’t really know how to play, having never been given the chance with Mary and Al. No one really ate either. The food looked better than what we were given at my Humans’ house, but the kibble still smelled disgusting.
I wandered, freely marking the walls and leaping at Joclyn’s feet whenever she entered the room. I was only a puppy and she easily swatted me aside. When I sank my teeth into her ankle she yelped. I expected the big Human hand of hurt to come down on my back as it had many times before, but there was nothing. She just grabbed me, shook me a little, and dropped me, briskly leaving after that and muttering under her breath.
This is how I learned to drive her away. I was my family’s guard dog now, until my mother came back. I snarled and bit at Joclyn’s heels, driving her away from the room and giving her little time to meddle inside with us. She was a bad Human. Just like the person in the bright building. Just like Mary and Al. They were all bad Humans. So all Humans were bad. It was that simple, yet on lazy afternoons my mind drifted back to seeing the dog and its Human, having fun together. How was that possible? How could the dog possibly stand that Human, let alone enjoy it? That just didn’t make sense.
Time seemed to stand still in that tiny little room. We all grew extremely bored. I raced from one side of the room to the other, barking to pass the time. I scratched at the wallpaper until it peeled, chewing at the paint and the wood. Joclyn only scolded me for the damage, but she did nothing else. And so I learned. She would not beat us the way Mary and Al did, but the bitterness and disinterest in her when she was around us seemed to be just as bad as my Humans’ beatings.
I kept up my biting routine whenever she came in, however. It was the only way to keep from insanity, as I’d seen from one of my brothers. He’d been lying there, half-dead, and suddenly he jumped up, his eyes rolling wildly in his head and his mouth foaming, his tongue flying and his belly huge and round although he ate nothing. He’d run around the room, scaring a few of my bored sisters, and foamed and snarled with a gurgling voice. I snarled at him. My other siblings barked and barked and whined and whined. I no longer knew my crazy brother. I had been about to leap at him, but Joclyn had come running over. She opened the door and I had more important things to tend to, like snapping at her ankles.
She’d scooped my brother up, who’d squirmed and writhed, very unlike him. “Rabies and worms!” she’d cried, panicked, and scuttled out of the room with my foaming brother in hand, me chasing after her. She slammed the door nearly on my nose and I watched her through the window. I barked, but she didn’t look back. She raced out of the house and I never saw my brother again.
And then I realized the sickness had been inside him from the start, and manifested to this. My brother’s smell was still there in the corner, stale and lingering.

Lion

Wednesday May 29, 2013

8155248626_3cc786088a_z.jpgAsiatic Lion- present-day female, 163 kg, India (lives on border of Gir Protected Area)

And then. Danger. I sense it. I am with the males and my sister. The pride has split up. The other lionesses are away. Near the Human dwellings. I pace. I keep my cubs close. The males have sensed it. They are disturbed. They trot away. Slowly. Then faster. Danger is coming. Danger will take the pride.
The males patrol boundaries. I taste the air. Two other males. Other rogue males. Other bachelors. I fear for my cubs. These males will try to take the pride. Just like Mate and Mate’s brother took from my father. If they are not driven off, they will drive away our males. They will kill my cubs. My cubs do not have their blood. They are rival cubs. The new males will attack us. I do not know when. I pace. I pant. If they want my cubs. I can not do anything. The other lionesses do not have cubs. They will not protect my cubs along with me. They want cubs of their own. Dead cubs brings females into heat. I can only watch mine die.
I know this. I know this already. Every mother may experience it. Mine had. We can only watch in grief. And wait for new cubs.
And then, they come.
They challenge Mate and Mate’s brother. They snarl. They bristle their manes. Showing off. My sister has huddled close to my cubs. We watch. My mother’s sister and her daughters climb up the hill. They watch. I am terrified. I crouch in the grasses.
A few bared teeth. Anger in the air. Mate lunges first. His large paws striking at the others. Killer claws. But these are rogues. They have killer claws too.
The lions scuffle. Snarls and roars can be heard for miles. Whimpers of pain where tooth strikes skin. A sound of near defeat.
It is over. So fast. And now I do not stop my cubs from drifting away. I stand. My tail twitches.
Mate and Mate’s brother scurry off the land. They flee. They have lost.
Leaving my mother’s pride at the mercy of the rogues.
The lions advance. Some lionesses. But not all. Not enough. We snarl. When they near we snap with our teeth. We lower our backs. I step daringly in front of my cubs. Motherly instincts snarling at them. Warning them. Stay away.
But they do not. I lunge for one’s neck but he brushes me off. Twists and grabs mine. Sinks his teeth. Waits. Pain. Hurt. A punishment. I do not attack but I am not cowed. I snarl at them. Fury. Anger. Boiling emotions.
The other lionesses do not dare attack. They have nothing to lose. Their cubs may come from these lions. Had they had cubs from Mate and Mate’s brother, mine would’ve stood a chance. But no.
In the depths of the night. One lion leaps for my female while the other sinks his teeth into my male. They trot forward, faster and faster. They grab their necks, shake their bodies. Break them. My cubs try escaping. They can not get anywhere. They mewl. They call for me. But I do not go to them. I watch them die in front of me. I am helpless. I hate this feeling. Bitterness. Grief. A low moan erupts from my throat. A moan of a mother losing her young. I stare at the males. My cubs. I had raised them. So young. Now, limp lifeless bodies in the waving grass. One rogue lays next to the male, panting.
Everything happens. So fast.
Dead.
Grief.
Dead.
Grief.
So much grief.
I stare at the bodies.
I cannot lift my gaze away.

Dog

Thursday May 30, 2013

Dog, present-day
purebred gray and white pit bull, 9 kg 

Staying in the room was just as torturous as staying in the pen outside Al’s and Mary’s house. In the pen, at least we could entertain ourselves with scents and fresh air. Here, there was nothing. Just stuffiness and only a small lonely glimpse of the outside world, fixated in place by the window. But I hadn’t known any better. I’d been raised in filthy conditions as a pup.
Finally one day, Joclyn came in and I managed to sink my teeth into her flesh. She’d yelped, as usual, and growled a string of Human language. Then she did the unexpected: she grabbed my scruff and lifted me up, her eyes full of fury. All my weight was hanging down and I cried in pain, my muscles straining and my eyeballs popping. She dangled me like that, crying and crying, and threw me into a crate along with two of my rather rambunctious siblings. Our spirits were not deterred even after the countless days of confinement.
We were squeezed next to each other, a tight fit. I was leaving some of my siblings behind, but my heart sprang with hope. Maybe I would reunite with my mother again. I barked at my siblings and they whimpered back; the ones left in the room were half-dead. I hoped they wouldn’t spring up and foam at the mouths like my brother did.
And then, we were in another Car. Different than the usual one that smelled of smoke and stinging liquid, but the same kind of machine: a Car. I barked excitedly when we were placed in the trunk. Joclyn got in the front where Al usually sat.
Before I knew it, we had been transported to somewhere else. I looked up, and my siblings squirmed beside me. The lid of the back opened and I saw Joclyn’s angry owl eyes peering at us. I growled at her but I reveled in the fresh air.
And then, I heard the sound.
Barking. Lots of barking. All kinds of dogs. All kinds of scents. It amazed me. Overwhelmed me. I had never seen something like this before. It was a little building, yet it contained all these dogs. And they were all my kind, only not my kin. It fascinated me. Far as I knew, my family and that other strange dog were the only dogs alive on this earth. Incredible. To know that there was more, that was to know I had to defend myself against everyone.
“You ungrateful wretches, disgusting dogs,” Joclyn spat at us. “I hope you brutes like it better here than where I gave you all a nice home.”
I didn’t understand. I bared my teeth at her.
She carried the crate in both arms, entering the building. The familiar smell of filth and dog stench hit my nose, only so much stronger than what I usually smelled.
“Welcome to the pit bull pound, how may I help you?” a bored Human said to the Human carrying us. Amazing. Another Human? There were more of these foul creatures every time I went someplace else. I could smell more of them further in the building.
“I’m here to drop off three pit bull pups,” Joclyn said politely. She presented us to the Human, and it inspected us with a disdainful sniff.
“We only have room for one of these. That is, if the three don’t mind cramming in a pen made for one.”
“They’ll be fine. Just take them.” Joclyn put us next to the Human and left.
I barked at the Human. It flinched. I studied it and found it out to be another female.
Another Human came out from the back. I barked and snarled at it. Another one? This place was crawling with them. Were they Mates? The newcomer was a male and smelled strange. It had the same stinging smell of my old Humans’, but the smell wasn’t concentrated around the face like Mary and Al. It was at the hands and arms. I recoiled when it came close, lunging and snapping at the face when it least expected it.
“This is a feisty one,” the male commented. Its breath was stale but had none of the stinging smell.
“Desocialized. His Human was desocialized. What a nerd she was,” the female replied boredly, picking at her fingers.
He leaned back and inspected all of us. My brother was tired and my sister was looking around, frightened. I was the only one up and running. Probably the only one that would survive in the end, because of my spirit.
“No one likes aggressive puppies. That’s a hard habit to break out of,” the female said. “Why don’t you just put it down for the heck of it. We’re running short of pens anyway; no one likes pit bulls these days.”
The male considered. I stared at them intensely, hoping they would feel threatened. I was a tornado to be reckoned with.
He grabbed me from the crate, much gentler than any other Human had before. I squirmed and tried to position myself where I could bite him, but he held me where I couldn’t move. “Sorry, buddy,” he said to me. I snarled at him. His voice was friendly but I had learned from long ago to never trust Humans, no matter the circumstance.
He carried me to the back of the building, supplying a small carrier and stuffing me into it. He placed me in a room and left me in the darkness.
I didn’t like this room. I smelled the strong sterile smell, so familiar now, and the cold cold air around me. What was worst was the many stale, faded scents of dogs. And their spirits leaving them, at this very place. Cold bodies.
Death.
And then I realized that was where my short five months of life would end.