To follow up on my
previous posting:-
By the time I got home with my three baby crocs in their
cardboard box, I was still pondering the next hurdle – now what?
My house was in the middle of town, and I had to raise three
crocodiles in secret to a size where they could fend for themselves in the
wild. What I was doing was technically
illegal - it is against the law to keep wild indigenous animals in captivity. Nature Conservation had refused to give us a
permit for Lion (see future posting) and they sure as hell weren’t going to
give me a permit for crocs in town either. These guys should have loved me, but
somehow they didn’t.
I procured a big birdcage which I placed in my backyard, and
created a nice habitat for my babies – shrubs, sand, even a sunken birdbath. All during this sweaty afternoon my wife’s
miniature poodle Sam was incessantly sniffing at the box, growling, whining and
scratching. I ignored him and got on
with the job.
By late afternoon the perfect habitat (my opinion) was ready
to receive its residents. Sam was still
pestering me, and becoming a little strident.
I put one baby on the lawn for Sam to have a good look and satisfy his
curiosity. A lot of posturing, prancing
and sniffing ensued. Suddenly Sam
screamed and made a perfect back somersault with the croc attached to his upper
lip. That’s when Sam’s attitude changed,
and he became a resolute crocodile hater.
Next; food. I phoned
my friend Prof Cobus Raath.
“Grasshoppers, small frogs and so-on.” Great.
I can’t spend my days hunting for grasshoppers and small frogs.
We settled on a diet of minced meat laced with calcium
powder and a wide range of other supplements.
Feeding three little human infants would have been less hassle. Throughout the project Sam would vociferously
insist on his share – every time I started preparing the food, he started doing
his nut and would only calm down once he had his share. Jealous little bastard.
All went well, and the little crocs seemed happy and were growing
well.
One day a friend suggested that it would be nice if I put
some birds in the cage, as the habitat had developed into something really
nice. I thought it was a good idea. So did the crocs.
When I found the third dead bird floating in the birdbath I
abandoned the bright idea.
One day I got wind of an imminent raid by Fauna and Flora (=
my friends at Nature Conservation). A benevolent
friend Piet immediately started building a rather grand facility on his
smallholding, and we moved the crocodiles. I rather enjoyed the frustration when the
powers that be swooped on my property.
The empty cage prompted them to insist on searching my house. The twits even sifted through the dirty
washing to make sure I wasn’t hiding any crocodiles in the laundry.
About a year later Piet was having a friends over for a
barbecue. It must have been quite a
party, as Piet at some stage decided to treat the friends on a crocodile
show. Apparently he took a piece of
to-be-barbecued meat and hand-fed the crocs.
Must have seemed a good idea at the time.
It took fifteen stitches to repair his hand, and it
convinced me that the crocs were now ready to go home.
PS. I will hopefully
be settling in my new home within a few weeks.
Once I have unpacked the boxes of old photographs, I will post some of
them on the blog, referring back to this and other previous postings.
Novels by Leon Mare
The Sam Jenkins
trilogy: Poacher, Cheetah in the Rain, Fighting AIDS
Psychological thriller: Show me a Reason – the lives and
times of Michelle Montagne.
Available
on Amazon, Apple, Sony, Kobo, Barnes&Noble, Smashwords etc.
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