[img]396|left|Alex Campbell||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — As I was taking out the trash this morning, I noticed a big, fat earthworm on the sidewalk. I thought about picking it up and putting it in the garden, but I didn’t actually do it. I had a couple of opportunities to save the worm, as I made multiple trips, what with recycling and all. For some reason, I didn’t. When I got home this afternoon, there was the worm, dried up and dead. All because I didn’t take one second out of my so-called busy life to help a creature who couldn’t help itself. I’m sorry, Worm. I won’t let that happen again.
Perhaps to assuage my guilt, I started thinking of animals I have saved in the past. The two most exciting rescues took place at the preschool where I teach, which is in the basement of a church. These rescues were really dramatic.
The Intellectual Frog
The first was a frog. Rev. Won called me over one afternoon when all the kids had gone home, and told me there was a frog stuck outside his window. Let me give you the layout of Rev. Won’s office so you can get a picture of the scene I walked into.
You get into the church from the street level, and walk down a flight of stairs to get to Rev. Won’s office. He has a window that looks out onto…a wall. When I opened the window, I saw a dirt floor, the wall, and up above, a series of metal rods going across a space of about three feet long by one and a half feet across, sort of like a grate. In the corner, sitting in the dirt, was a huge bullfrog. He regarded me warily. How on earth he got there, I have no idea.
I crawled through the window so I could be closer to the frog. As I put my hands towards him, he did a most amazing thing. I am not exaggerating when I say that the frog puffed himself up, one side at a time, and hissed at me. He hissed at me! His defense mechanisms worked perfectly. I backed off, went back into the office and thought about what to do. I called animal control, and they told me to put a towel over the frog so he couldn’t see what I was doing.
Wouldn’t you know, that little trick worked like a charm. I got a bucket and a towel. I threw the towel over the poor frog, picked him up, and dropped him in the bucket (mind you, it was not as smooth as I’ve just made it seem—I’ll spare you the awkward details). I took the frog to the Muddy River, and released him. He swam away quickly. We were both relieved.
A Reward for a Pigeon
My second church animal rescue involved a pigeon, a box, and a string. Somehow, a pigeon had gotten into the church and was at the bottom of the stairs. It could have gone right into Rev. Won’s office, but it decided to go down three more steps, as if it wanted to visit the preschool.
How was I going to get a pigeon up a flight of stairs and out the door? I remembered the cartoons I watched regularly as a child. There was a recurring theme whereby some character would trap another by setting up a box, propping it up with a stick, and pulling a string attached to the stick so that the box would fall on the victim. It always worked on TV; would it work in real life?
I got a box, a stick and a string. I was impressed with my setup. It looked exactly like it did on the cartoons! The pigeon, however, was a lot smarter than an animated bird. I had put some cracker crumbs under the box, thinking I would pull the string as soon as he started to eat, he’d be trapped, and I’d take him upstairs. Not so.
Every time I’d pull the string, he’d sidestep out of the box and look at me as though I was the idiot. We played this game about three times before I got a little wiser. I ditched the stick and string, and held the box with my hands. I had to let the pigeon walk back and forth under the box, eating the crumbs and dashing out again. When he got comfortable enough to stay for a few seconds and really enjoy the snack I had laid out for him, I slowly lowered the box down, and he was secure (I don’t want to say “trapped”). The tricky part was the next step of getting a piece of cardboard to slide under the box so that I could pick it up. Somehow I managed to do it, and I brought him upstairs and released him. He flew away without a look back.
I once did move a worm from the sidewalk into the dirt. I swear I’ll never leave a worm on the sidewalk again, even if doing so makes me late for work. I hope you’ll forgive me, Worm, and know that I have saved your brothers and sisters from a fate like yours. I’m sorry. Maybe as punishment I’ll have spaghetti for dinner. I’ll eat it in the rain.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at campbellalexandra@hotmail.com
