to impressions one might jot down in a diary. I have persisted in recording them for you, however, as I believe she is going through another important linguistic developmental phase.
You cannot visit us, not now. My husband wrote to say he will soon be returning on leave.
Evelyn
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
The trip into the city. Frau Oberndorffâs face. She runs her fingers through her hair, wipes her nose, yawns with hunger. Her hair has gone dull, no colour in her lips, bloodless.
She took me and the children to the soup kitchen at the Childrenâs Home. The youngest child may have turnip disease. The children were given a meal of thin soup made from mangold-wurzeland cabbage, and stock from stewed horse bones. It smelled disgusting and they tell me it tasted worse.
A doctor working at the Home pointed out to Frau Oberndorff a boy orphan with a swollen stomach. He had a broken jaw and was missing most of his teeth due to rickets. âYou see this child here, it was given an incredible amount of bread and yet it did not get any stronger,â the doctor said. âI found out that it hid all the bread it received underneath its straw mattress. The fear of hunger was so deeply rooted in the child that it collected the stores instead of eating the food. A misguided animal instinct made the dread of hunger worse than the actual pangs.â
The bedbug. Hard decision to squash and eat it, and not give it to my cricket for his supper. But I was very hungry.
Â
My darling Evelyn
          Thank you, thank you, a thousand times, for yesterday. I suspect when you saw me standing at the door your first instinct was to slam it shut, and if it hadnât been for the childrenâs joy at seeing me, I would not have been invited inside. I was shocked to see you looking so thin, my dear. I scoured the city for black market supplies this morning, with no success â some of the people waiting in a ration queue threw stones at me when they saw me lurking nearby. Nobody wants to see an ape eat when there are humans going hungry.
I want to say that you have done well with Hazel. She is sweet, and very clever. She should not fear her fate now that Herr Hagenbeck is no longer here to force our union. I agree with you that her intensive training should be stopped for now â there are more important things for all of us to worry about â and when your husband returns he can decide how to proceed. Is it strange that I think of her as one of your children? Perhaps we could care for her as such in the future.
Do not worry, darling, I will stay away now that you are expecting your husband to return any day. The single touch of your smooth hands as you said goodbye will sustain me.
R.P.
Â
Dear R.P.
        I have troubling news of Hazel. A few days ago she found your notes to me, enclosed in the same envelopes containing the letters for her. She can read quite well now, though how much she understood of their full meaning I am not certain. Since then, she has stopped eating. She refuses all food I offer her, and has retreated to her old cage at the back of the laboratory, where she used to live before she learned her manners. I am hoping this is a temporary side effect of extreme hunger â eating simply makes one hungry again; not eating at least does not give the stomach false hope. However, I thought it best to let you know.
As I asked you in person, please do not write until you hear from me again, just in case.
Yours
Evelyn
PS: Hazel refused to dictate a letter to you. Iâm sorry.
Â
Dear Red Peter
          Perhaps you have already heard. My husband is dead. He did not make it home from the front. It is no use pretending; you know how I felt about him. I will not miss his cold rage. But I grieve for my younger guileless self, the girl I was when I agreed to marry him. And for the children. They
You cannot visit us, not now. My husband wrote to say he will soon be returning on leave.
Evelyn
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
The trip into the city. Frau Oberndorffâs face. She runs her fingers through her hair, wipes her nose, yawns with hunger. Her hair has gone dull, no colour in her lips, bloodless.
She took me and the children to the soup kitchen at the Childrenâs Home. The youngest child may have turnip disease. The children were given a meal of thin soup made from mangold-wurzeland cabbage, and stock from stewed horse bones. It smelled disgusting and they tell me it tasted worse.
A doctor working at the Home pointed out to Frau Oberndorff a boy orphan with a swollen stomach. He had a broken jaw and was missing most of his teeth due to rickets. âYou see this child here, it was given an incredible amount of bread and yet it did not get any stronger,â the doctor said. âI found out that it hid all the bread it received underneath its straw mattress. The fear of hunger was so deeply rooted in the child that it collected the stores instead of eating the food. A misguided animal instinct made the dread of hunger worse than the actual pangs.â
The bedbug. Hard decision to squash and eat it, and not give it to my cricket for his supper. But I was very hungry.
Â
My darling Evelyn
          Thank you, thank you, a thousand times, for yesterday. I suspect when you saw me standing at the door your first instinct was to slam it shut, and if it hadnât been for the childrenâs joy at seeing me, I would not have been invited inside. I was shocked to see you looking so thin, my dear. I scoured the city for black market supplies this morning, with no success â some of the people waiting in a ration queue threw stones at me when they saw me lurking nearby. Nobody wants to see an ape eat when there are humans going hungry.
I want to say that you have done well with Hazel. She is sweet, and very clever. She should not fear her fate now that Herr Hagenbeck is no longer here to force our union. I agree with you that her intensive training should be stopped for now â there are more important things for all of us to worry about â and when your husband returns he can decide how to proceed. Is it strange that I think of her as one of your children? Perhaps we could care for her as such in the future.
Do not worry, darling, I will stay away now that you are expecting your husband to return any day. The single touch of your smooth hands as you said goodbye will sustain me.
R.P.
Â
Dear R.P.
        I have troubling news of Hazel. A few days ago she found your notes to me, enclosed in the same envelopes containing the letters for her. She can read quite well now, though how much she understood of their full meaning I am not certain. Since then, she has stopped eating. She refuses all food I offer her, and has retreated to her old cage at the back of the laboratory, where she used to live before she learned her manners. I am hoping this is a temporary side effect of extreme hunger â eating simply makes one hungry again; not eating at least does not give the stomach false hope. However, I thought it best to let you know.
As I asked you in person, please do not write until you hear from me again, just in case.
Yours
Evelyn
PS: Hazel refused to dictate a letter to you. Iâm sorry.
Â
Dear Red Peter
          Perhaps you have already heard. My husband is dead. He did not make it home from the front. It is no use pretending; you know how I felt about him. I will not miss his cold rage. But I grieve for my younger guileless self, the girl I was when I agreed to marry him. And for the children. They
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