Taterskin & The Eco Defenders: Book 1, Chapter 57 (Last)
Book 1 ("Wonders Never Cease"), Chapter 57
CHAPTER 57
“Let’s put an end to Dogfights and Cockfights — and Bullfights in Spain,” I said.
“And Fox hunts!” Alexis chimed in.
“Yes, and Bull and Bear fights,” added Rovette.
“Oh my ears and whiskers! Bull and Bear fights!?!” questioned Marmalade.
I was able to fill her in about these. “Bull and Bear fights commonly took place here in California in the early-to-mid 1800s,” I explained to her. “They pitted Grizzly Bears — which California had an abundance of at the time — against Bulls. The Grizzlies, which were up to eight feet tall and weighed as much as 100 pounds per foot, would be chained to a post. The Bull would be roped to the bear so that the animals could not separate far from each other. They would then be egged on by the human spectators to battle to the death. These contests were not unlike the old Mongoose vs. Cobra fights in India, or Cockfights and Dogfights, only using bigger animals, making them more exciting to the bloodthirsty spectators, who would often wager large sums of money on the outcome.”
All were silent for a while, feeling sorger (a mixture of sorrow and anger) over the thought of these gruesome spectacles.
This feeling of sadness reminded me of a story by Mark Twain that Albert had once read to me. This memory caused me to blurt out, “Vivisection! We must put an end to vivisection!”
Albert concurred, and seconded the motion, so to speak. All of us then agreed, and again we were all somber as we pondered these things. How could humans be so utterly cruel and inhumane as to deliberately torture animals in these ways?
After a protracted period of reflection, Alexis finally broke the silence: “The extinction of the Paradise Parrot in Australia in the 1920s.”
“Good idea,” said Albert. “Maybe Yookie would want to help us with that one, since that’s where he lives.”
“While we’re in the area, we could also undo the extinction of the Tasmanian Tiger,” said Stripes.
“And the African Black Rhino in the 2010s,” Ocero Puddleby added.
“Yes. Good,” Albert said.
“Don’t forget the Golden Toad of Costa Rica, who went extinct in the 1920s,” Drako added.
“What about the Passenger Pigeon and the Dodo?” Rinky asked.
Having waited for someone else to say it, Terri now indignantly reminded everyone about the extinction of her kind, the Pterodactyls.
“It’s obvious,” Albert then said, “That there are many extinctions we could go back and undo. No doubt each victory in this way would produce cascading benefits, which would also indirectly help prevent other extinctions.
“And we could find out what caused the extinctions in the first place, where that is not already known, and educate people about what they need to do or avoid doing to prevent these extinction events, as these are harmful, not only to the specific animals in danger, but to all of us and to the earth as a whole.”
Everyone agreed, and we were now eagerly looking forward to our next world tour. Not that we wanted to leave our current pleasant surroundings and situation, but because we wanted to prevent these bad things from ever having happened.
“Any objections to us leaving right away?” Albert then asked.
Most of us said “No” or “None” or “Nope” or “No objections,” and some simply shook their heads from side to side to indicate a negative response to the query.
“It’s a whiz,” Albert said.
None of us knew what he meant by that, though. We weren’t familiar with that expression. Apparently it’s a human colloquialism.
“What do you mean, Albert?” I finally asked. “Do you need to use the restroom, or find a tree (I never understood why humans go inside their houses to urinate), or . . .”
“No, Taterskin,” Albert chuckled. “What I meant was, ‘It’s a go’ . . . ‘let’s do it.’ After taking care of those things, we will return here to 2525 and consult the history books to verify that the record of those events and extinctions have been expunged from the historical record. Then, when we are rested up and ready for it, we can do further research to see if it will be necessary for us to embark on more travels into the past to repair mistakes that have been made. Agreed?”
“Yes!” we all said, in unison.
Albert then gave the following short but inspiring speech about our overall mission:
“We’ll eventually get around to every place and time that needs our help. Wherever there are hungry or oppressed people or animals, we’ll be there. Wherever the strong are taking advantage of the weak, we’ll be there. We will do whatever it takes to see that justice is done — we’ll be happy and carefree and peaceful when we can be, but we will get down to business and effect changes by any means necessary when we must do so.
“Everyone — both human and animal — should benefit from their hard work by eating what they plant and harvest, and living in the house or den or nest that they build. We’ll be there to see to it that everybody — whether their native language is a human one or an animal one — gets a fair shake. Forever.”
This speech of Albert’s came to be known among us as The Kettenpom Valley Address (we had been gathered in the Kettenpom Valley, near Zenia), and it spurred us on to acts that altered history greatly — ‘greatly’ in both senses of the word — but which, as could be expected, never showed up in the history books. This does not prove that they didn’t happen, though. The things that we prevented never appeared in the history books because such tomes do not record things that did not happen, nor do they publish unverified rumors as fact.
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