Read Online Larger Than Life (Novella) by Jodi Picoult - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jodi Picoult
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rangers knew they had to get out and run. One of them was tusked by the elephant.”
I watch Neo finish his drink, rattled by the reality of the dangers of his work. “The
rule in the reserve was that if an elephant was an instigator or had killed a person,
it had to be shot. During the attack, that particular elephant had opened up a cut
on his forehead, so he was very recognizable within the bull herd. But every time
the game warden went out with a gun to kill the elephant, the bull herd would surround
him and move off. It was as if they realized he was in trouble, and they were protecting
him.”
I lean forward, my head resting on my hand. “This went on for months. The wound healed,
and no one could recognize the bull anymore. No one except me, that is, because I
had cataloged all the elephants at Madikwe as part of my doctoral research. The head
of the reserve ordered me to locate that bull, so that he could be shot,” I say. “And
I refused.”
“Did you know which bull they wanted to find?” Neo asks.
“Yes. He had a sprinkling of freckles behind his right ear. That’s how I had identified
him, before the scar on his forehead, anyway.” I shrug. “But that bull might not have
been so aggressive if there had been older males in his herd to teach him how to behave.
He didn’t deserve to die because humans had fucked up in the first place.” I tuck
my hair behind my ear. “I broke the rules. The game warden knew it. My colleagues
knew it. The rangers, hell, they refused to drive into the bush with me, since to
them it looked like I was standing up for an animal that had killed one of their own.
And a month later that same bull killed a bush vet and was shot by the ranger who’d
been driving him. After that, my boss suggested—firmly—that I might be more welcome
at a differentreserve.” I finish my third drink, and set the glass down so hard it rings against
the table. “So yes, Neo, I should have known better.”
He stares at me, but his eyes are unreadable. I do not know if he thinks that at Madikwe,
by taking a stand, I was wearing the white hat of a hero or the black one of the villain.
“Do you know of Pilanesberg?” he asks.
Of course I do. I even did some of my doctoral research there. It is—like Madikwe—a
reserve for the juvenile elephants that were spared in the South African culls to
control the overpopulation of elephants, which was threatening biodiversity. And just
like at Madikwe, they have had their fair share of behavioral problems at Pilanesberg.
“I heard a story about the young bulls that were sent there after the culls,” Neo
says. “They were herded into a
boma
, one surrounded by a fence with fifty-nine electrified poles. The sixtieth pole,
that’s where the wires were joined, so that one wasn’t electrified. The idea was to
keep the elephants overnight, so that they could be released into the reserve officially
with the press watching. That way the government would look heroic, for successfully
dealing with the elephant population problem. But the next morning, the bulls went
straight to the one pole that wasn’t hot-wired, and in three minutes knocked it over
and disappeared into the reserve before the press even had a chance to arrive.”
“The moral of this story is that male elephants don’t like photo ops?”
“No. The moral of the story is that if a rule is flimsy enough to be broken, perhaps
it was meant to be.” Neo reaches across the table, lifts my hand, turns it over. I
think of those electrified poles, of the shocks that the elephants would have received
that long night when they tested each one. Neo keeps his eyes on mine as he presses
a kiss into the center of my palm.
My fingers curl, as if I might be able to hold on to it.
I straddle Neo’s lap and touch the planes of his face, the muscles of his shoulders,
the question on his lips. We tumble hard onto the floor,
I watch Neo finish his drink, rattled by the reality of the dangers of his work. “The
rule in the reserve was that if an elephant was an instigator or had killed a person,
it had to be shot. During the attack, that particular elephant had opened up a cut
on his forehead, so he was very recognizable within the bull herd. But every time
the game warden went out with a gun to kill the elephant, the bull herd would surround
him and move off. It was as if they realized he was in trouble, and they were protecting
him.”
I lean forward, my head resting on my hand. “This went on for months. The wound healed,
and no one could recognize the bull anymore. No one except me, that is, because I
had cataloged all the elephants at Madikwe as part of my doctoral research. The head
of the reserve ordered me to locate that bull, so that he could be shot,” I say. “And
I refused.”
“Did you know which bull they wanted to find?” Neo asks.
“Yes. He had a sprinkling of freckles behind his right ear. That’s how I had identified
him, before the scar on his forehead, anyway.” I shrug. “But that bull might not have
been so aggressive if there had been older males in his herd to teach him how to behave.
He didn’t deserve to die because humans had fucked up in the first place.” I tuck
my hair behind my ear. “I broke the rules. The game warden knew it. My colleagues
knew it. The rangers, hell, they refused to drive into the bush with me, since to
them it looked like I was standing up for an animal that had killed one of their own.
And a month later that same bull killed a bush vet and was shot by the ranger who’d
been driving him. After that, my boss suggested—firmly—that I might be more welcome
at a differentreserve.” I finish my third drink, and set the glass down so hard it rings against
the table. “So yes, Neo, I should have known better.”
He stares at me, but his eyes are unreadable. I do not know if he thinks that at Madikwe,
by taking a stand, I was wearing the white hat of a hero or the black one of the villain.
“Do you know of Pilanesberg?” he asks.
Of course I do. I even did some of my doctoral research there. It is—like Madikwe—a
reserve for the juvenile elephants that were spared in the South African culls to
control the overpopulation of elephants, which was threatening biodiversity. And just
like at Madikwe, they have had their fair share of behavioral problems at Pilanesberg.
“I heard a story about the young bulls that were sent there after the culls,” Neo
says. “They were herded into a
boma
, one surrounded by a fence with fifty-nine electrified poles. The sixtieth pole,
that’s where the wires were joined, so that one wasn’t electrified. The idea was to
keep the elephants overnight, so that they could be released into the reserve officially
with the press watching. That way the government would look heroic, for successfully
dealing with the elephant population problem. But the next morning, the bulls went
straight to the one pole that wasn’t hot-wired, and in three minutes knocked it over
and disappeared into the reserve before the press even had a chance to arrive.”
“The moral of this story is that male elephants don’t like photo ops?”
“No. The moral of the story is that if a rule is flimsy enough to be broken, perhaps
it was meant to be.” Neo reaches across the table, lifts my hand, turns it over. I
think of those electrified poles, of the shocks that the elephants would have received
that long night when they tested each one. Neo keeps his eyes on mine as he presses
a kiss into the center of my palm.
My fingers curl, as if I might be able to hold on to it.
I straddle Neo’s lap and touch the planes of his face, the muscles of his shoulders,
the question on his lips. We tumble hard onto the floor,
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