Last Chance to See

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Authors: Douglas Adams, Mark Carwardine
Tags: Fiction, General, SF, Nature, Nature conservation, Endangered Species
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of their own accord, we stoke them up with a goat. They don't want the goat, they don't need it. If they wanted one they'd find it themselves. The only truly revolting thing that happens to the goat is in fact done by us.
    So why didn't we say something? Like: `Don't kill the goat'?
    Well, there are a number of possible reasons:
    - If the goat hadn't been killed for us it would have been killed for someone else -for the party of American tourists, for instance.
    - We didn't really realise what was going to happen till it was too late to stop it.
    -The goat didn't lead a particularly nice life, anyway. Particularly not today.
    -Another dragon would probably have got it later.
    - If it hadn't been the goat the dragons would have got something else, like a deer or something.
    -We were reporting the incident for this book and for the BBC. It was important that we went through the whole experience so that people would know about it in detail. That's well worth a goat.
    - We felt too polite to say, `Please don't kill the goat on our account.'
    - We were a bunch of lily-livered rationalising turds.
    The great thing about being the only species that makes a distinction between right and wrong is that we can make up the rules for ourselves as we go along.
    The fish were still hopping harmlessly up and down the tree. They were about three inches long, brown and black, with little bobble eyes set very close together on the top of their heads. They hopped along using their fins as crutches.
    'Mudskippers,' said Mark, who happened along at that moment. He squatted down to look at them.
    `What are they doing in the tree? I asked.
    `You could say they were experimenting,' said Mark. 'If they find they can make a better living on the land than in the water, then in the course of time and evolution they may come to stay on the land. They absorb a certain amount of oxygen through their skin at the moment, but they have to rush back to the sea from time to time for a mouthful of water which they process through their gills. But that can change. It's happened before.'
    'What do you mean?
    'Well, it's probable that life on this planet started in the oceans, and that marine creatures migrated on to the land in search of new habitats. There's one fish that existed about 350 million years ago which was very like a mudskipper. It came up on to the land using its fins as crutches. It's possible that it was the ancestor of all land-living vertebrates.'
    `Really?
    
     What was it called?
    'I don't think it had a name at the time.'
    'So this fish is what we were like 350 million years ago?'
    `Quite possibly.'
    'So in 350 million years time one of its descendants could be sitting on the beach here with a camera round its neck watching other fish hopping out of the sea?'
    'No idea. That's for science fiction novelists to think about. Zoologists can only say what we think has happened so far.'
    I suddenly felt, well, terribly old as I watched a mudskipper hopping along with what now seemed to me like a wonderful sense of hopeless, boundless, naive optimism. It had such a terribly, terribly, terribly long way to go. I hoped that if its descendant was sitting here on this beach in 350 million years time with a camera round its neck, it would feel that the journey had been worth it. I hoped that it might have a clearer understanding of itself in relation to the world it lived in. I hoped that it wouldn't be reduced to turning other creatures into horror circus shows in order to try and ensure them their survival. I hoped that if someone tried to feed the remote descendant of a goat to the remote descendant of a dragon for the sake of little more than a shudder of entertainment, that it would feel it was wrong.
    I hoped it wouldn't be too chicken to say so.
     
     
     
     

Leopardskin Pillbox Hat
     
     
    We startled ourselves by arriving in Zaire on a missionary flight, which had not been our original intention. All regular flights in and out of Kinshasa had

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