Wild Things

Every job has at least one task that separates work from not-work; that task that one wishes could be ignored. For Corinna this was the task she was faced with. Separating people from their animal companions is easy when those people are abusive; but painful when it breaks a heart. There was no sign of abuse here, in fact, given the animal in question it was impossible, but the law is the law.

She knocked at the door, taking in its large size. She smoothed her straight silver hair behind her pointed ears, making it frame her coal-black face. When she didn’t hear a response, she tried the bell near the door.

An excited, chirping, “chee-ka-ka-chee” came from within the house, followed by a muffled voice. The large door opened, and her violet eyes reflected the morning light that poured through the back of the house and washed over her.

“Is Marcus Tybalt here?” she asked.

“I am,” he answered.

Her eyebrows drew together, and she looked at the data on her tablet. “I may have the wrong Marcus Tybalt,” she said. “I was looking for a troll, not a dwarf.”

He laughed. “Thanks! Can I get a photo of your documents there?” he asked. “I’m getting a refund from the company that ‘fixed’ my records after I was hacked.”

“Ah.” Corinna held her tablet where he could take a photo with his phone. “I suppose you know why I’m here.”

“That says I have an illegal pet.” Marcus pointed at the tablet. “I don’t have any pets.”

“We have eyewitness reports—”

“Damn nosy neighbors.” He sighed. “Come on in. Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee? Something stronger?”

“Tea would be lovely.” She stepped into the house and held out her hand. “Corinna Dastone, Animal Law Enforcement.”

Marcus shook her hand. “You already know who I am,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Corinna.” He led her through the kitchen to the breakfast nook where warm morning light poured in through the large sliding-glass door.

“This is a lovely home,” she said. Plants grew on shelves, bathed in the morning sunlight. A pet flap was installed in the wall near the sliding-glass doors. The yard beyond had a small patch of grass that bordered a downward slope to ever-thickening woods.

“I can’t take any credit for that,” he said, pouring tea. “I haven’t changed anything since I bought it two years ago.”

“The pet flap?”

“That was here, yup.” He brightened. “Oh! I put in those shelves there. Where the morning light is perfect for my plants.”

She continued to scan the house. With the open plan she could see the kitchen, dining area, living room, entry, and a hallway leading to the rest of the house. A heavily used scratching post at the far end of the living room caught her eye.

Marcus continued to drink his tea, and watched her, a hint of a smile touching his deep brown eyes. “Well? What did you want to ask?”

“Mr. Tybalt, you have an illegal pet, and it’s my job to collect it. It’s an endangered species.” Corinna sighed. “If it can be rehabilitated and released in the wild, that’s what we’ll do. If not, it will likely have to go to a zoo for a breeding program. Just because it’s the smallest of its kind doesn’t mean it’s a fit pet.”

“As I said, I have no pets.” He carried his cup and saucer to the kitchen and dropped them noisily in the sink. “There’s a wild animal that visits, but I’d never presume to call him a pet; a friend, maybe.”

“Why don’t you tell me how you came by getting this . . . friend?”

“Right after I moved in, I heard this pitiful noise outside.” He pointed out toward the yard. “There was frost on the grass, and this small, crying animal out there.

“I called Animal Control and they said they couldn’t do anything about it. Rather than let the poor thing suffer I brought him in to warm up and check for injuries.”

“So, he’s a rescue, you’re saying?”

“I’m getting there,” he said. “When I brought him in, I realized his eyes weren’t even open yet. I jumped online and found out how to make formula for him and fed him with an eye dropper. Ten, twelve times a day at first.

“I read up on how to wean him and what he needed to eat and worked on getting him weaned as soon as he was strong enough.”

“Sounds like a pet to me.”

“No. Never. As soon as he was weaned, I started leaving him outside to see if he’d figure it out. And he did, quick-like. When he flew off, I thought that would be the last time I saw him.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s pretty shy.” Marcus pulled a bag of nuts out of the cupboard. “When it’s just me here he runs around like a mad thing. Sometimes he nibbles on the plants, climbs the drapes; had to get him a scratcher to keep him from shredding the sofa. There’s something about that corner that makes him want to claw over there. But he also eats every bug he can find. I haven’t had a spider in the house since he weaned.”

Marcus shook the bag of nuts and a quiet chirp sounded from beneath the sofa. He shook the bag again. “Come on, Cheeka! It’s okay.” He handed Corinna a few nuts. “Hold these out for him.”

Corinna held her hand an inch above the floor, the nuts in her palm. A pair of bright yellow eyes shone beneath the couch. Marcus shook the bag again. A small, grey shape, no larger than a kitten, streaked out from beneath the couch. Before Corinna could react, it had grabbed the nuts from her palm and took to the air, landing on the back of the sofa it had been hiding under. It chirped two short barks and began stuffing the nuts in its cheeks.

“Catching this guy is going to be hard. Especially with their power.” Corinna sighed.

“Their power?” Marcus asked. “Oh, you mean ‘nemesis’ . . . the power to automatically counter any attack. Don’t attack. Even if he doesn’t give you a mean bite I might.” He winked.

“It’s obvious you love the little guy, but the law is clear on wild, not to mention endangered, animals as pets.”

“And what defines a pet? Is that clear?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Corinna asked. “Any tamed or domesticated animal kept for pleasure or companionship.”

“There’s nothing but his own desires keeping him here.” Marcus grabbed the bag of nuts and headed out the sliding-glass door. “Follow me.”

She did, and he closed the door behind her. “You have a point, I’m sure,” she said.

Marcus took a handful of nuts and scattered them across the yard, shaking the bag as he did. Cheeka came out the pet flap at full speed, running around the grass chirping excitedly as he gathered as many nuts as he could. Birds flew in to challenge him, each grabbing a nut then flying off to eat it in peace. Once Cheeka’s cheeks were stuffed, he took to the air too, landing in a nest in the nearest large pine.

“Is it illegal to feed wild animals in this manner?” he asked. “If so, half the city should be arrested for either having bird feeders or dropping crumbs.”

“No, there’s nothing illegal about that,” she said. “But if you keep Cheeka in—”

“That’s just it.” Marcus pointed to the nest where Cheeka was chirping away happily. “That’s where Cheeka lives. He built that nest, and he lives there. He comes into my house via the old pet flap to visit in the morning, then spends the rest of his time out there.”

“And you don’t entice him in any way?”

“Not unless my snoring counts,” he said. “Most mornings he comes in and wakes me up. That’s how I named him. He always does that ‘chee-ka’ sound when he’s excited. And trust me, it’ll wake you up when it’s right in your ear.”

Finished with his nuts, Cheeka took to wing and began flying slow circles above the yard. His bat-like wings acted like a glider as he caught the rising warm air off the roof of the house. His fluffy tail provided balance and steering but his flight was slow and cumbersome. He barked short chirps at the birds that swooped around him.

A flock of sparrows began dive-bombing him, trying to drive him away. On their second go-round he tucked his wings, dropped a few yards, then spread them back out, swooping up between them and disturbing their assault.

“I didn’t know they could fly like that,” she said.

“Nemesis,” he said. “They usually can’t. The question is: are you going to charge me for feeding a wild animal that nests on my property and likes to come in my house occasionally?”

“Have you tried blocking the flap?”

“I did,” he said, “and the little guy made my life a living hell. He’d show up outside whatever window I was closest to and scream his little head off. Any time I tried to leave the house he’d zoom in the open door, tear around for a bit, then panic when he couldn’t get back out the flap. So, are you going to charge me?”

“No.” Corinna marked the case as closed. “It seems I owe you an apology.”

“It’s good to know someone’s looking out for the little guys.” Marcus watched Cheeka swooping to pick a moth out of the air.

Cheeka began a loud barking chirp that repeated in a complex pattern; “Chee-chee-ka ka-chee-ka! Chee-chee-ka ka-chee-ka!”

“That’s a new one,” Marcus said.

An answering chirp came from witching the woods. “No way. Another one?” Corinna began recording video with her tablet. Cheeka shouted out his barks again and an answer came from a small form hopping out from the trees. It took to the sky. Its fluffy gray tail had a dark band half-way down its length. “It’s a female!”

They watched the two animals swirl about each other in the sky before they alit on the grass, their dance transforming into a bouncing game of tag. Marcus nudged Corinna. “I think maybe we should slip inside quietly and let those two be. He’s used to me; I don’t want to scare her away.”

Corinna nodded and followed him in. Marcus set about pouring them both more tea. “I feel he may have other things to do than to visit me any longer,” he said.

“This is good, though.” Corinna called up the map on her tablet. “I should catalogue this. Possible breeding pair, that’s a big deal. There’s less than six hundred of the little guys left in the wild.”

“Fewer than,” Marcus said.

“Sorry, what?”

“There are fewer than six hundred left in the wild. Less is for uncountable things, like there is less tea in the pot now than earlier.” Marcus smirked. “Sorry, retired English teacher, but it still comes out on occasion.”

“That’s all right. I know I butcher the language.” Corinna looked at her tea. “Did you hear, last week, that Kumandrapoor refused to stop hunting fire dragons? They’re being moved to the critically endangered list.”

“I did.” Marcus shook his head. “It’s a shame what people have done to the planet.”

“There are twelve in captivity,” she said, “but that’s not enough for a stable breeding pop—”

“Shhh!” Marcus held up a hand and pointed at the pet flap.

Cheeka poked his head through the flap, and the female chittered at him. Cheeka barked once and jumped through. When the female failed to follow him in, he stuck his head out of the flap and chirped softly at her.

She approached in a low crouch, ready to jump away at a moment’s notice. Cheeka offered some more encouraging chirps and she made her way through the flap.

Once they were inside, Cheeka chirped and jumped into Marcus’ lap. Marcus began stroking between his ears and he made contented little cheeps before rolling over on his back for belly-rubs. The female eyed the scene warily, then jumped into Corinna’s lap, shaking.

Corinna let the little creature sniff at her fingers, then lightly stroked between her ears. The shaking calmed down and the little female chirped softly at first, then with more confidence. She rolled onto her back and let her wings spread out, her soft belly upturned. Corinna hesitated until the little female barked at her, and she began to stroke her belly. The wings, although they looked like skin from a distance, were covered with a silky, fine fur.

“She’s so soft,” Corinna said. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him not coming to visit.”

Marcus chuckled. “Will you need to investigate this wild animal in my house as well?”

“No,” she replied. “I just can’t believe I’m scratching the belly of a real, live, tree dragon!”