by Julian Clary
Aardvarks have been sadly absent from children’s storybooks as far as I can discover and it is high time this was rectified.
‘Yes, Mrs Bold, I am indeed an aardvark,’ agreed Annika. ‘Well spotted!’
‘Please, call me Amelia,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘So would you like to tell me your story? And how can we Bolds help you?’
Annika finished the last of her cucumber with a satisfied slurp. Then she took a deep breath and began to speak.
‘I’m a gentle aardvark – most of us are.But I’m very shy, Amelia; I like a quiet life. Sleeping is important to me. A few hours a night, snuffling about for ants, a quiet meander in the moonlight, and I’m quite happy. But that wasn’t what was expected of me. Born in captivity, I found myself at a place called Shorthop Zoo. Someone there came up with the bright idea of “The VIP Aarvark Experience”, if you please.’ Annika gave a little shudder.
‘What did that entail?’ asked Mrs Bold.
‘Oh, it was frightful. People. Groups of ten or so brought into my pen every fifteen minutes. All day every day. They’d paid quite a lot and they wanted their money’s worth. I was stroked and prodded, squealed at and photographed. Some aardvarks might like that sort of thing, but I didn’t. It was torture. I just wanted to be left alone. But the worst of it was each visitor was allowed to feed me a handful of termites. If I didn’t play along I’d get nothing to eat!’
‘Oh, you poor thing!’ exclaimed Mrs Bold.
‘I’m so glad you understand. I don’t think the zookeepers did. I’m sure they are animal lovers and wouldn’t deliberately do anything to upset me, but I wasn’t suited to the work, you see? I’m not a performer by nature. I had to sit up and beg, lick my food from these stupid sticks they’d wave in front of me. They’d pat my back and sometimes scratch me. I’m not being unkind, but humans aren’t always the gentlest or, if I may say, the cleanest of creatures. And it was relentless. One group out, the next group in.’
Mrs Bold shook her head. ‘Awful for you.’
‘Intolerable!’ agreed Annika.
‘Did you have other aardvarks with you to keep you company?’
‘I did not. A while back I was presented with a “mate” called Adrian, but we didn’t get on. He had, er, amorous intentions, but he had bad breath and his eyes were too close together.’ Annika grimaced at the memory. ‘As if I’d couple up with just any old aardvark! We weren’t compatible and that was that. He was sent to Chester Zoo after a few months and good luck to him.’
‘Just as well,’ nodded Mrs Bold, and Annika took another deep breath.
‘I am very grateful to you for listening, Amelia. I feel better sharing all this with someone who understands. Thank you.’
‘The trouble with humans is they don’t stop to think what an animal might need to be happy. They can be a little thoughtless sometimes.’
‘You’re telling me! And so my life, such as it was, continued. Day after endless day. I was unhappy and it was torture. Groups of excited humans treating me as if I were some sort of toy for their amusement. And I was so tired – we are nocturnal animals – I just wanted to sleep all day but that was not possible. They wanted me awake and on show.’
‘It’s a wonder you didn’t get ill.’
‘I did, Amelia. I did. My mental well-being was seriously affected. I just curled up in a ball one day and refused to carry on.’
‘Good for you!’
‘The VIP visitors were most upset and demanded their money back. The keepers were rather cross because they were losing all that business, but I wouldn’t budge. I just couldn’t.’
‘You were on strike!’
‘Yes! The vet was sent for and I was given a thorough examination. Nothing physically wrong with me, of course. But I was given a vitamin injection to buck me up.’
‘Ouch!’
‘Ouch indeed. Most unpleasant. Aardvarks are very thick-skinned and she had to use a very big needle.’
‘Then what?’
‘Well, this is where my story gets happier, I’m pleased to say. I was sent to the sick bay. Under observation.’
‘At least you could get some rest!’
‘Yes. Peace and quiet at last. In the next pen to me was another poorly fellow called Charlie. A skunk.’
‘Don’t they smell terrible?’
‘Only when they’re threatened or distressed.’
‘What was he in the hospital for?’
‘Well, that’s the thing. He didn’t like being leered at by the general public any more than I did. But he had a way to make his feelings known.’
‘Spraying!’
‘Yes. Correct. If he didn’t like the look of a human being who came to look at him he simply turned around and sprayed his pungent scent all over them!’
‘Ugh!’
Annika paused for a chuckle and of course Mrs Bold joined in.
‘Awful of me but I’d love to have seen that!’
‘The best one was a lady in a real fox fur coat. Covered her from head to toe, apparently!’
‘Serves her right!’ said Mrs Bold, punching the air with her paw. ‘Well done, Charlie! Bullseye!’
‘So Charlie and I became firm friends, united by our mutual dislike of being objects of amusement for the paying public. We whispered long into the night about our desire to escape from Shorthop. We thought no one could hear us, but we were wrong!’
‘Who was listening?’
‘There was a fruit bat with a damaged wing in the sick bay too. She heard everything.’
‘Bats do have exceptionally good hearing,’ observed Mrs Bold.
‘Quite. Big ginger thing, like a flying fox. Fergie, she was called. We thought she was hanging upside down asleep, but she was eavesdropping.’
‘No!’
‘Yes, but fortunately she wanted to help and together the three of us hatched a plan. But we had to act fast. Fergie’s wing was almost better and she would soon be transferred back to the bat enclosure.’
‘What was the plan?’
‘It was genius. Fergie had been born in the Kakadu National Park in Australia. Eventually she’d flown to Cairns and taken up residence in a church tower with several other fruit bats. It was there that she’d met a nun called Sister Paulina.’
‘Not Miss Paulina, our former student? The otter with a religious vocation?’
‘Yes, the very same. She was doing missionary work there.’
‘What a small world!’
‘Sister Paulina told Fergie about you Bolds and all you had done for her.’
‘Ah, that’s nice of her. She was an exceptional student. I’m glad she is doing so well.’
‘She prays for you every day.’
Mrs Bold felt tears brimming in her eyes.
‘But how did Fergie end up at Shorthop?’
‘Captured for some international fruit bat breeding programme,’ explained Annika.
Mrs Bold shook her head.
‘She was placed in Taronga Zoo in Sydney originally, then swapped for a couple of barn owls, apparently.’
Mrs Bold bristled. ‘So sad!’
‘Indeed. Fergie was quite put out. But back to her clever plan. Charlie and I had no idea how to escape from Shorthop or where we would go if we did. But Fergie suggested that if we pooled our resources – flying, digging and, er, spraying smelly scent – we could get out of that place, surely. Then, once free, we’d make our way to you Bolds and freedom!’
‘So how did you manage it? And where are Charlie and Fergie now?’
‘I’ll explain everything,’ said Annika. ‘I don’t suppose you have another cucumber handy?’
Mrs Bold shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. But let me look in the cupboard. I think there is something similar.’ She opened the larder and reached to the back to retrieve a glass jar. ‘Yes! Just
as I thought! Pickled gherkins. Any good to you?’
‘All part of the cucumber family, I suppose,’ said Annika doubtfully. ‘I’ll try one.’
Mrs Bold unscrewed the jar, fished out a gherkin with a fork and passed it to Annika. The aardvark sniffed it suspiciously then popped it sideways into her mouth and crunched it.
‘Quite zingy!’ she said, blinking with surprise. ‘But lovely nevertheless.’
‘Here, help yourself,’ said Mrs Bold, tipping all the gherkins onto a plate for the visitor.
After three or four more gherkins, followed by a discreet burp, Annika resumed her tale. And what a remarkable tale it was.
‘We activated our plan two nights later,’ continued Annika. ‘There was only one member of staff on duty in the sick bay between the hours of eleven p.m. and eight a.m.: a rather grumpy veterinary nurse called Simon. I don’t think he was very happy in his work. He never spoke to us kindly and he spent most of his time reading magazines or picking his nose. He was supposed to check on all the patients every hour but he rarely bothered. Just shouted “Shurrup!” if anyone made a noise.’
‘He doesn’t sound like a very nice or professional person!’
‘No. He wasn’t. There was an armadillo in with tummy trouble and he used to enjoy poking her with a pencil to make her roll up into a ball for his amusement.’
‘Cruel!’
‘Most unusual for a veterinary nurse. Most of them are animal lovers, kind and caring. But not this Simon.’
‘He should be sacked!’
‘That’s what we thought. And that made it easier for us to carry out our plan. Just after two in the morning, as arranged by us, Charlie started coughing and wheezing and making as much noise as he could. Simon told him to “Shurrup!” and “Stop that racket!” several times but Charlie just turned up the volume.
‘Eventually, Simon realised he had to actually do some nursing for a change, so he came and peered through the bars of the cage. “Darn thing. Not dying on me, are you?” he asked crossly. At this point Charlie went silent and lay on his side, eyes glazed, as if he were seriously ill. Simon then became worried – if an animal died on his watch he’d have some explaining to do. He got the keys out of his pocket, then put on some latex gloves. He opened the door and lifted the limp, lifeless skunk out of his cage and placed him on the examination table.
‘“How do you check the pulse on a skunk, for goodness’ sake?” he mumbled, scratching his head. And then, quick as a flash, Charlie came to life, jumped up on all fours, turned and sprayed Simon full in the face from his scent glands.’
‘Another bullseye!’ said Mrs Bold, clapping her paws together with delight.
‘Yes!’ agreed Annika. ‘Simon reeled back, choking and covering his eyes. I must say the smell was very strong! Simon couldn’t see a thing, and was writhing on the floor. Then, without hesitation, Charlie jumped off the table, grabbed the keys and opened my cage and then Fergie’s.’
‘Then what?’
‘Well. The main exit to the sick bay could only be opened with a security code, which we didn’t have, but the door to the exercise yard wasn’t locked – we knew this. Simon was supposed to lock it but he never did because he was too lazy. So into the yard we went.’
‘Did you climb over the fence?’
‘Impossible. It was completely covered with wire mesh to keep the bats and other flying animals in. So I had to dig our way out.’ She held up her powerful front paws. ‘With these!’
‘Very impressive,’ said Mrs Bold admiringly.
‘Thank you. Aardvarks are built for digging through termite hills. Plus we live in burrows, so it’s second nature to us. I managed to dig a channel wide enough for me, Charlie and Fergie to squeeze through fairly quickly. Just before the alarm bells went off...’
‘No!’ cried Mrs Bold. ‘Simon had recovered?’
‘It seems so,’ said Annika through gritted teeth. ‘But we were through and into the zoo grounds.’
‘Bravo!’
‘We ran and hid as quickly as we could. Shorthop is over nine thousand acres big, so we knew that if luck was on our side we’d be able to lie low somewhere.’
‘Could you dig your way out of the zoo grounds too?’
‘No way. It’s all properly fortified. They have lions and all sorts there. No, digging wasn’t going to work. Meanwhile there were sirens and alarms, and security guards rushing about carrying stun guns. We were hiding out at the back of the reptile house, hidden by some shrubbery but Land Rovers with searchlights were being used and we didn’t stand a chance.’
‘Awful!’ said Mrs Bold, biting her claws with worry. ‘So what happened?’
‘We tried to stay calm and stick to our plan.’
‘Which was?’
‘Fergie. Her damaged wing was mended. She would pick us up and fly us over the wall!’
‘Ah! I’d almost forgotten Fergie is a fruit bat!’
‘But she couldn’t carry us both at the same time. She’d never be able to take off. Charlie insisted I be first. We said a hurried “Goodbye and good luck! See you on the other side!” and waited for the searchlight to clear, then we took our chance. Fergie grasped me by the ears and began to flap. I’m no lightweight and I was worried I’d be too heavy for her. But with a lot of flapping, and with me running as fast as I could on the ground, we eventually took off. It wasn’t easy gaining enough height. We had to circle round a couple of times. I could hear poor Fergie puffing and panting but finally we cleared the wall with centimetres to spare, the bright beam of the searchlight hard on our heels. Then we landed with a crunch in some woods. We’d made it.’
‘Free at last!’ said Mrs Bold, giving Annika a hug.
‘Freedom is the most wonderful feeling. Like nothing else!’
‘I know, dear,’ said Mrs Bold nodding sagely. ‘It is the most important thing in the world for every living thing. But I want to know: did Fergie go straight back to get Charlie?’
Annika stood up and shuffled to the window where she stood gazing out in silence for a few moments.
‘She did,’ she said quietly. ‘But that’s the last time I saw her. She never came back. I don’t know what happened to her or Charlie.’
The thoughtful silence between aardvark and hyena was interrupted by the return of Bobby, Betty and Minnie. They were all streaked with mud from head to toe.
‘Sorry we were so long,’ said Betty cheerfully.
‘Catching ants is great fun!’ contributed Bobby.
‘The hosepipe was involved,’ added Minnie with a grin.
‘Really, dear?’ said Mrs Bold, casting her eye over the three sets of muddy footprints on her kitchen floor.
‘Did you get me some ants?’ asked Annika hopefully.
‘Yes!’ said Minnie proudly, holding out a jam jar. ‘Six!’
‘Six?’ repeated Annika, sounding a little forlorn.
‘Did you want more then?’ questioned Bobby.
‘Well, the thing is – and I don’t want to sound greedy – do you know how many ants a day the average aardvark eats?’
‘Er, is it more than six?’ said Betty.
‘Yes. Fifty thousand!’ announced Annika. Everyone looked stunned. ‘They’re only small!’
‘I suppose that’s true,’ said Minnie. ‘Hardly bigger than crumbs.’
‘And I’m quite a big girl,’ nodded Annika.
‘Where can we get that many ants from?’ pondered Bobby.
‘I know!’ shouted Betty. ‘Bobby and Minnie, come with me!’
Her brother and friend did as they were told and followed Betty outside.
‘What are we going to carry fifty thousand ants in?’ wondered Betty.
‘The wheelbarrow?’ suggested Bobby.
‘No, they’ll crawl out, silly.’
Minnie looked around the ga
rden. ‘Dustbin!’ she cried.
‘That’ll do it,’ said Betty. ‘We’ll have to empty it first, though.’
After some discussion it was agreed that, as it was an emergency, it would be OK to tip the rubbish over the fence into Mr McNumpty’s garden.
‘It will only be there for a little while. He probably won’t even notice,’ reasoned Betty.
‘He’ll quite understand once we explain, I’m sure,’ said Bobby, emptying the full bin of rubbish over the dividing fence and giving it a shake.
‘But where are we going to get the fifty thousand ants from?’ asked Minnie, not unreasonably.
‘School,’ said Betty. ‘The new ant farm, remember? I don’t know how many are there, but there’s a lot.’
‘Are we going to have to count them all?’ asked Bobby, looking worried. ‘Only I’m not very good at counting over a hundred and it will take ages.’
‘We’ll just have to make an intelligent guess,’ said Betty. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
The three ant hunters set out for school, carrying the large (now empty) bin between them. Minnie worried that they really shouldn’t be going on the expedition alone, but Bobby pointed out they’d already been allowed to go to the charity shop that day without adult supervision.
‘And look what happened then,’ muttered Minnie.
When they got to the school the gates were locked for the holidays, but Bobby and Betty didn’t see this as a problem.
‘Come round the side,’ said Bobby. ‘There’s a hole in the fence where we can slip through. I’ve used it before when I’m late for school and want to sneak in without being seen.’
Minnie was beginning to lose her nerve. ‘We’re going to get into trouble,’ she said. ‘This is burglary!’
‘Oh, Minnie!’ said Betty, stamping her foot. ‘Don’t be such a wuss!’
‘But it is!’ insisted Minnie. ‘We might get expelled!’