Choose to Take the Journey

The chimpanzee loved eggs.  He also ate fruits and flowers, leaves and seeds, but nothing made him pant-hoot quite like a blackbird egg freshly plucked from its nest.

On the first day of Spring, he observed from above a grey squirrel scurrying about; it had a sea-green shard of egg shell stuck to its bushy tail.  He had seen many squirrels scatter-hoarding chestnuts and acorns, but now he wondered if this little critter also had an appetite for eggs.  He followed it, deftly swinging from branch to branch.

He entered an unfamiliar part of the forest.  The foliage was thick here and he sometimes lost sight of the critter, only able to re-track its trail by following closer to the ground and listening for the rustle of leaves.  He came upon a tree stump just in time to see a ball of salt-and-pepper fur disappear into its rotting center hole.  He let go of the low-hanging branch he was grasping and jumped down.

*

The beast landed with a thud.  The squirrel poked his head above the edge of his temporary den, pointy ears perked, scanning his surroundings for the source of the disturbance.  A dark-haired beast walked toward him on its knuckles.

He froze in fear, considering whether to fight or flee.  He was lean from the harsh winter and desperately wanted to hold onto his meticulously collected cache of birdseed and acorns.

The beast picked up a stone and came at him with a menacing grin.  He knew he was no match and he leapt out of the way just as the beast’s long arm came down, stone clenched in its fist, and struck the tree stump.  Chunks of wood broke off, enlarging the hole enough for its contents to be rummaged by the beast’s massive hands.

It appeared to be looking for something, tossing acorn after acorn over its shoulder.  The beast slowed its movements as it lifted a hollowed-out blackbird egg that he had filled with birdseed.  What did it want with birdseed, the squirrel thought, and in the next moment his question was answered.

The beast looked melancholy as it upended the egg shell, spilling and scattering birdseed all over the forest floor.  The squirrel also grew melancholy.  It would take him several days to re-stock his cache and the now enlarged tree hollow was no longer an adequate hideout.  Besides, that damned bluejay would be around any minute to take advantage.

The beast glanced at him and bore its teeth.  No time anyway, he thought, as he fled into the bramble.  He ran and ran until he could run no more.  Where was the beast?  He turned his head from side to side, as squirrels do, to survey their environment.  His heart lost a beat as he caught sight of the beast hanging from the tree branches above!

Not only was he too exhausted to continue, nightfall was imminent and that meant he needed to find shelter.  He didn’t know if the beast was only after blackbird eggs, but he was certain that those foul creatures of the night–the owl, the fox, and the raccoon–did have a taste for squirrel meat.

He patted down a mound of dirt with his slender fingers, pretending to complete the burial of some delicate treasure below.  He leapt aside as the beast dropped to the ground and proceeded to claw at the earth.  The squirrel looked about him and spied an abandoned burrow.  Did it belong to a rabbit, or a weasel?  It was risky, but what choice did he have?  He dove in.  From beneath the earth, he heard a terrifying sequence.  First, the cacophony of the beast carving and scooping out the earth.  Then, a fearsome cry, part frustration, part humiliation.  And finally, his own heartbeat fluttering amid the after-silence.  He slept there that night, not soundly, but safely.  He had taken a chance and won.

*

The chimpanzee was despondent.  He laid on his arboreal mattress of intertwined branches and leaves, picking at his jet-black body hair.  He had spent an entire Moon fruitlessly chasing after the twig cuttings, the cylindrical brown droppings, and the noisy sputterings and scoldings that led him to many a squirrel, but none which had a taste for those delicious blackbird eggs.  Members of his troop had also confirmed the absence of blackbirds in recent days.  Perhaps, he wondered, they’ve been driven out of the forest by our voracious appetites.

Just then, he saw a grey streak bounding among the low branches.  The critter stopped for only a moment, but enough for him to discern its salt-and-pepper fur and the glistening of egg yolk upon its whiskers.  There we go.

He followed–stealthily–stopping when the squirrel stopped, and synchronizing his movements when possible with the critter’s leaps from branch to branch.  We chimpanzees are quite clever, he smirked to himself.

The squirrel ceased its horizontal journey and began scaling vertically.  He watched the critter disappear into an oak tree.

When he climbed upon the branch of interest, the squirrel emerged from the abandoned woodpecker cavity.  It let out an annoying ke ke ke ke sound and thrashed its tail back and forth.  He grimaced, flashing his sharp canines, and the critter fled.

Peering inside, he saw a nest of leaves, twigs, shredded bark, and soft mosses. There, in the back, lay 3 brown-spotted, sea-green eggs.

At last, he would have his blackbird egg.  He reached inside with his long arm and grabbed one.  He carefully withdrew, but with his fingers wrapped around the egg, the ball of his fist was too big to take out of the hole without breaking the egg.

CRACK.

The sound of a twig below.  His head snapped down and to the right.  The long barrel of a gun.  A human.  No, a hunter.

His heart whaled against his chest.  Sometimes you have to just let go, he thought, no matter how much time and effort you’ve invested.

He shook his head in protest.  No, but I want it!

BANG.

The chimp fell out of the tree–dead.

//This story is dedicated to my girlfriend.