Category: animals

Emu Drum Solo

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In my summer camp, we had a program called the ASIT program. ASIT stands for “Assistant Specialist in Training,” and they’re basically advanced campers that are between campers and counselors.

Many campers become ASITs, but just as many, perhaps more, don’t get the sacred letter. ASITs get to dig a little deeper into the camp; doing the behind-the-scenes work such as cleaning pastures and and taking care of new and baby animals. They are almost the equivalent to “student leaders,” or “prefects,” for any dormers out there.

There are three things you can do to increase your chances of being an ASIT. First is join the ASIT for a Day class, which is an hour of trust-building games and another hour of showing us the jobs of an ASIT. Meaning we have to clean a large enclosure, such as the barn or Lemur Island.

The second thing to do is to write a letter to Lori, one of our camp directors, about what you could bring to the ASIT program. It’s similar to a college application letter, in which you have to sell yourself fully. The third thing is to get a letter of recommendation from one of your counselors, which is something campers generally can’t control.

Hanging by our cafeteria are about two dozen hammocks of various shapes and sizes. After lunch my cabin sits in the hammocks and we wait for Free Time to start. I usually write in my journal during that time.

He had dark, curly hair, stocky body, olive-colored cap, light blue shirt, and was comfortably writing in a large, colorful book. He was an ASIT, and was sitting a little in front and to the right of me. The fact that he was also writing, I think poetry, caught my eye.

At the end of the session, he got up on stage during Skit Night and told us how he mucked out the Back Pastures for four hours. Then he grabbed a rake and started singing.

More than a dozen emus reside in the Back Pastures, and emus tend to make a peculiar drum-sounding sound deep in their chests. In the middle of the ASIT’s songs, he struck a pose, pointed in the direction of the Back Pastures, and declared “Emu Drum Solo!” He held that pose for about 30 seconds.

Every time we would try to laugh he would shush us harshly. He even started over once because he was so determined to perform the song perfectly “Four hours!” he yelled at us, “I was out there for four hours!”

The Missing Lynx

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One of the animals I was most interested in during camp was Jazz, the Canadian Lynx.

I waited a long two sessions (four weeks!) before finally capturing a slight glimpse of him.

I remember always, always craning my neck to see if I could spot Jazz in his enclosure. Missouri is always hot, and Jazz has quite a bit of fur, so it was obvious that he wouldn’t like to be outside in the heat. Yet somehow, many people said that they would spot Jazz while on their way to the nursery or barn, so I would always pause for a few moments to see if I could spot Jazz.

I stayed at camp for three two-week sessions and by the start of the third and last session I had almost nearly given up hope on seeing Jazz.

There was a counselor sitting in his enclosure feeding him a hunk of meat. I could hear the crunch of the bones from where I stood, outside the cage fence, staring in.

It was really dark in the enclosure, and I think it was cloudy that day too. Jazz had a slight glint in his eyes while he chewed, keeping a careful eye on the counselor, some other campers, and I while we watched him.

As the days at camp got cooler I saw Jazz more and more, though I never had the time to really watch him. Campers weren’t allowed in his enclosure anymore, though while he was a kit he was allowed to be held and bottle fed.

I’m still quite upset that I couldn’t pet Jazz, or at least sit in his enclosure with him or even toss him a dead, bloody chicken. I sort of just wanted to sit on the ground and watch him, creepy as that sounds.

Armadillo Escape

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While Stevie was one of the loudest creatures in the habitat area, people would often double back and investigate the out-of-place scratching noise coming from one of the habitats.

At first glance the habitat seemed to be occupied by a single prehensile-tail porcupine perched up on a tree. Once a camper enters the enclosure Ned might pop out of the wood shavings and trot happily around your feet, the little tree, his den, before pausing to scratch at the wall.

Ned was a six-banded armadillo and almost reminded me of a little old man due to his small tufts of hair and wrinkled skin. His back plates were hard like nails, though kinda weirdly fuzzy…

When I first entered his enclosure he was already running around, zooming along the walls and pausing to scratch at a worringly large hole on the rightmost corner of the wall.

I personally think that Ned is planning an escape. He charms newcomers by running circles around them.  Then while they’re distracted, he makes a dash at the door. Which is what he did when I didn’t close it quick enough.

I quickly used my foot to block his escape but wasn’t sure how to handle him. Should I pick him up? Scoot him away with my foot? With the help of a counselor I managed to keep him inside before snapping the door shut. “You know you can just pick him up, right?” he says.

Often times when things are slow in the habitats, counselors like to let Ned out and he’ll skitter along the small hallway the same way he does in his enclosure. Each time I visit his habitat the hole seems to be a few chips larger and maybe a little deeper.

I wonder if Ned’ll still be there when I go back next summer.

Just a Little Bit

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I’ll consider myself an avid rider for the moment. The first time I rode a horse was when my trainer plucked me off the ground, from atop a tall horse mind you, and plunked me down onto said horse. He then proceeded to gallop 6467, the horse’s racing name and number, at full speed.

It was exhilarating and supposedly terrifying too, though I don’t recall feeling any fear. I remember my eyes tearing up due to the wind and the world around me reduced to blurry shapes. My heart was beating to the sound of stomping hooves.

I rode and jumped Tai Yan, sun in Chinese, for two years before stopping due to health reasons.

One of the first things I saw upon arriving at OVS was an Equestrian coach, sitting on a horse, and watching the cars go by.

The first day of sports I nearly hurtled myself into the barn to reunite with equine life.

After two more years riding horses and training ponies I’d say I’m quite familiar with equine creatures, big or small.

Little Bit was a dwarf miniature horse.

Dwarf. Miniature. Horse.

DWARF. MINIATURE.

IN WHAT WORLD DO HORSES COME IN THAT SIZE.

During camp I finally got a chance to explore the Back Pastures. Malachi, the Dromedary Camel, was the focal point of the back pastures, mooing and grunting and giving icky sloppy kisses.

After escaping Malachi I look around and practically trip over what I thought was a baby pony.

“Hey Little Bit!” our counselor croons, bending down to pet the creature. “This is Little Bit, our Dwarf Miniature Horse!”

OH MY GODS.

I stood gaping for a full minute trying to make sense of the little horse.

I did not understand how horses could be dwarf miniatures.

I felt like I had grown six feet because we were surrounded by miniature horses and they were so tiny. Little Bit dwarfed them all though and I was just speechless because it felt like Mother Nature bungee-jumped in front of my face waving a flag and said “NOPE”.

But not in the bad way. Walking around the mini-horses was an adorable experience but every second of it I was thinking “what is going on what is happening where am I what world is this.”

I’m still slightly in shock and denial.

Headbutts and Back Climbers

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Goats are like a strange mix of dogs and cats. They love like dogs and play like cats.

There are a few goats in our camp’s animal nursery, and we could always go into their pens during free time.

One of my favorite things to do was just sit cross-legged on the ground and stare at the baby goats until they headbutted me. Regrettably, I’m a human, so I couldn’t headbutt them back. I used my hand instead and pushed against the kids, and they were surprisingly strong.

A couple weeks into camp I realized yet another thing I could do.

Although it wasn’t allowed, I found out it was really fun to let the kids jump up onto my back and let them balance.

At fist I didn’t enjoy it very much as their little hooves would stun me with sharp pain. Imagine a full-grown goat jumping onto a younger camper’s back and you’d get the idea to why the kids weren’t allowed up onto our backs.

Although I would spend most days with Stevie, Sarah, and Legolas, I would always get dragged to the nursery by one or more of my camp friends. There I would spend time “head”butting the little goats and allowing them to view the world from my back.

Goats seem to be just another under-appreciated animal.

Kevin, Kenny, and Nicholas Cage

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We had missed our flight.

What a way to start the first day of camp, eh? Arriving at 10pm in the dark gives a great first impression.

I had pulled an all-nighter as our flight was at 4am, which was a very stupid thing to do. I felt like death while waiting for the next plane to fly.

I was grumpy. I’m sure my little brother was too.

The car ride was awkward because everyone but my little brother and the driver was asleep.

I remember waking up and groggily stepping out of the car. The first thing I remember from the camp was a startling loud cry of a very, very familiar bird.

It was a peacock call.

All over camp, wandering freely, were peacocks. I was told that the peacocks roaming the main part of camp were called Kevin and the ones that stayed near the Animal Area were called Nicholas Cage.

During nighttime Kevin would hop up waaay up there in a pine tree, startling children walking underneath whenever they make a nighttime call. I had made a little game out of it; trying to find Kevin whenever he was in a tree. He was usually camouflaged too well among the branches and leaves but sometimes I would see the little jitter of his tail feathers.

The Animal Area was what it was called: an area for the animals of the camp. What we called the “Bird Aviary” housed many different species of birds: peacocks, pigeons, silkie chickens, and a lionhead rabbit.

The most valuable peacock we had was a half albino, half normal peacock, and he was settled in the Aviary. Prince Charming and his Princess, two albinos, were also in the Aviary.

When I was in China I grew up hearing the calls of peacocks day and night.

Most people wouldn’t expect there to be peacocks in China but for some reason there was a hotel that had peacocks in it.

Being at camp and hearing Kevin and Nicholas Cage cawing all the time brought a slight feeling of nostalgia.

After my five out of six weeks of camp was up I was told that the peacocks were actually called Kenny.

Why had nobody told me this earlier?

I had been calling them the wrong name for five weeks? But even the counselors called them Kevin!

I still call the peacocks Kevin. Old habits die hard.

Legless Legolas

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There are snakes, and there are legless lizards.

Legless lizards are not snakes, they are legless lizards.

Legless lizards have eyelids while snakes do not. Snakes can unlock their jaw while legless lizards can not.

Snakes can use their belly scales to move around while legless lizards can only move with a side-to-side motion while also pushing up against something.

Russian Glass Lizard

Legolas was said to be one of the most vicious animals in our Reptile Room. The stories told was that the second you opened up his enclosure he would shoot out and bite your face.

I was not told of this little issue when I asked to take Legolas out, and neither did the current counselor in the room. I picked Legolas up with no problem at all and sat down onto the ground. Legolas simply laid there in my arms flicking his eyes back and forth to look at the many other reptiles occupying the room. His body was also much more leathery and stiff than a snake’s, as legless lizards’ bodies are much more muscled and has less movement dexterity.

The next day I asked to hold Legolas, but as this counselor had heard of his little antics I was not granted permission until I convinced her that I have held him before with no problems at all.

Legolas was a Russian Glass Lizard and had a very distinct slit starting from the neck and leading to the tail. When they get agitated they inhale deeply and puff up their scaly little bodies to scare away any potential enemies.

The counselor next to me seemed to be an enemy to Legolas so he puffed up and made a peculiar wheezing noise. I quickly scooted away from her and he relaxed instantly, laying quietly on my lap and continuing to eye the other animals in the room.

Legolas

Something about Legolas’s stiff body and behavior and such judgeful eyes made him one of my favorite creatures in that Reptile Room, also because not many other campers would like to handle such a ferocious creature.

Portrait of a Bear

Daphne PsaledakisLeave a comment

It seemed as though the bears had multiplied over the winter. The summer before had been filled with distress calls to wildlife control, news reports of bears all over the county, and the not so rare sighting. This year, however, officials reported a record number of calls for help, my own grandmother accounting for many of them, because a bear had broken into someone’s house and they had been woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of the refrigerator being raided for a midnight snack. Bears were no longer afraid to meander into town and did so at their leisure. I remember working at the bakery one day and a customer came running in, shouting that a baby bear was stuck in a tree a couple blocks over. It made the headlines the next day.

My friends told their stories of running into a bear, whether it be hiking in the middle of the day or walking home at night. I would refuse to walk the short distance from work to my house after getting let out at midnight. I would beg friends for rides if my dad had already fallen asleep, but even so, I often ended up walking. I did my best to avoid any situation where I would run into a bear, but I wasn’t completely successful.

I had been babysitting a boy who lived up the road from me. Because it was such a short distance from my house to theirs, the dad walked me home instead of driving. We were walking, talking about his kid, when we passed under a tree. The night before us was made pitch black from the shadow of the moon, and we heard a twig snap. Immediately our attention was drawn upwards from focusing on the road in front of us. Not even five feet away I could barely see the silhouette of a bear. He was huge, bigger than I expected. I am certain he was taller than me, even when standing on all fours. He didn’t even look at us.

Surprised out of our minds the dad and I jumped to the other side of the road. As soon as we were out from under the shadow of the tree we could no longer see him. He had the perfect camouflage. We continued the short way to my house, where I practically ran inside.

What struck me was that had it not been for that twig, an insignificant object we pass by on a daily basis without second thought, we would never have seen the bear. We would have walked right into him. Even though we were scared out of our minds, and stood on the other side of the road scarcely daring to breathe, the bear never even looked at us. We were as insignificant to him as a rabbit.

After that, I would absolutely refuse to walk home. If my friends hadn’t driven, I would call my house repeatedly until my dad woke up and drove the seven blocks to come get me. Seeing the bear, taller than me even when he wasn’t standing up, absolutely undetectable had it not been for that one twig, made me realize just how powerful those animals are. It is a beautiful sort of power though. Being so dark one can blend into the night, so silent that one can go unnoticed until someone has walked into you, and so huge that even the bravest person would follow their instinct of flight. To me there is nothing more majestic.

Demon Geese

indigoshell3 Comments

It was hot and muggy, just another day in Missouri. The peacocks were calling, the insects were buzzing, and complaints could be heard all around. I remember walking quietly to my next course when several horrified children run past me.

They were screaming “DEMON GEESE!!”

Goose

No, not really.

We did have three fairly aggressive geese roaming the camp though. Whenever someone would walk just a tad too close to them those darned birds would start honking and pecking at their feet, occasionally giving actual chase. Sometimes they would ignore the accidental provoker and attack an innocent bystander instead.

HONK

Honestly those three geese were sort of cowards. They pretend to be all scary but really they just bluff and honk, I’ve never heard of them actually inflicting damage on any camper.

One of my best friends during camp liked to holler and chase them back to the lake, while I personally liked to slowly wander closer to them until I got them mad. Then I let them chase me around a little until I have to get to my classes.

The honest question here is why are geese always so angry?

Maybe because we don’t take them seriously enough.

The Old Gum Tree

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Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry, merry king of the bush is he
Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!
What a life you lead

Many in this world do not know what a kookaburra is, even more have not seen or touched one.

Many would not know that the kookaburra’s call doesn’t sound like a laugh – it’s more of a demonic monkey yelling at the unfairness of the world.

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry, merry, merry little bird is he
Sing, Kookaburra! Sing, Kookabura!
Sing your song for me.

Many would not know how large and cuddly these birds are, how soft and downy their chest feathers are.

Many would not know the gleam of light cyan in their wings, how minuscule the feathers are and how they catch the light so easily.

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Eating all the gum drops he can see
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
Leave some there for me

Many would not know how picky a kookaburra will be with a frozen mouse.

Many would not know that kookaburras would even eat frozen mice.

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Counting all the monkeys he can see
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
That’s not a monkey that is me.

Many would not know how hard it is to perfect the kookaburra call, as well as getting them to call back to you.

Many would not know that if you stroke his belly and then push on his legs, you could get Stevie to sit on your hand while you pet his head.