Un cuento dedicado...

Luego de haber hecho sufrir a mis alumnos de segundo año durante todo un cuatrimestre haciéndolos escribir hasta el hartazgo (eso, entre otras cosas, claro...), consideré que sería justo que yo escribiera algo para ellos.
A continuación les dejo la historia que les escribí.

Cualquier evento o personaje que no se ajuste a la realidad... es total error de la autora.

A DAY AT THE ZOO.

I remember that day as if it were today. What I felt, what I saw, and what I heard are things that will be in my mind forever. Many years have passed since that day; but I can recount every feeling, every scene, and every sound in great detail. Seen from a distance, the zoo looked just like any other zoo. Later on, I would discover how wrong I was.

The first animals I saw where three hyenas. They were sitting close together and, as all hyenas do, they laughed pretty much all the time. The male of the pack, sitting in the middle, was updating his FB status while the two females, one Brazilian and one Uruguayan, were reading something, talking to each other and, of course, laughing.

Near them was a pink panther. Looking very relaxed, she would now and then timidly glimpse at the zookeeper. All the quietness that this sweet creature transmitted was suddenly interrupted by the sound of happy squawking. I turned my head to see where all the racket came from; and there it was: a “Misionero” parrot; very vivacious; very talkative. Apparently, she could not talk without fluttering her wings quickly, as if in an attempt to transmit something else with them.

Another bird, then, caught my eye. It was a spotted sandpiper, a kind of migrant bird. Being Sunday, I could not believe my eyes. “As far as I know”, I thought, “these birds are never here at this time of the year (or week, to be more precise). They always fly to Corrientes during weekends (sometimes in company of a pink panther). “How strange!” I thought.

Immersed in my thoughts as I was, I passed in front of an extraordinary and very elegant creature: a nightingale. Hadn’t it been for the lively Peruvian tune she was humming, I would have missed her. The melody was simply superb.

As I continued my tour, I saw a lama holding a can of frozen Coke in one paw. I mistakenly assumed that she, having such thick fur, and coming from a very hot northwestern Argentinean province, had gotten accustomed to live on iced drinks to suffocate the heat. “You are quite wrong about that,” said the zookeeper with a grin. “ ‘Coca’ runs through her veins.”

When I heard the sound of an animal yawning, I felt like napping. I immediately blocked the tempting thoughts to see who it was. On such a hot day, I saw a big, strong sloth lay, headphones in his ears, in one corner, looking exhausted. The zookeeper told me that even though sloths are used to hot weather, they are not used to humidity. “Therefore,” the zookeeper continued, “this sloth is having a hard time here.” In spite of this, all the time I stayed at the zoo, I saw him smile.

The next animal I ran across was a blonde hen. She had chicks of her own, but still cared for everybody else there; just as if they were her own as well. Her sweet and motherly look assured me that all the animals at the zoo would be well taken care of if she was around.

Not with some kind of difficulty, I could see two animals at the very end of the zoo boundaries. One of them was staring at me with her wide open and attentive eyes. When she stood up, I could see her long legs. This amusing heron, whose life was by the Paraná River, had gotten very much accustomed to living in these hills. The other animal was a dove. I had never seen one with curly feathers, but let me tell you that they fit her perfectly. I was told she would organize many of the parties and fun times outside the zoo. A very good musician as well, she was making the most beautiful music out of two golden bells.

As I was heading to the exit gate, a bird was soaring up just above my head, moving in the most gracious way. I asked the zookeeper what animal it was.

- “It’s a spotted sandpiper…”

- “Are you sure? I think I have seen the sandpiper somewhere else, and this is not how it looked like…”

- “Oh, you’re right… You must understand; I am old and absent-minded,” she said apologetically. “I sometimes get their names confused. The bird you see it’s a black skimmer, and it’s also a kind of migrant bird. This one in particular flies for an hour every weekend to Cerrito, and then back. It’s a very quiet but witty creature” she said.

It was closing time, so I took a quick look at all the animals again. They seemed happy. But the zookeeper didn’t.

- “Aren’t you happy that it’s closing time and after a long day at work you can finally go home and rest?” I asked.

- “Not really. This is actually the last day these animals will be in this zoo. There are being taken somewhere else to be looked after by another zookeeper. And I’m certainly gonna miss them”, she said at last.

At that moment, I felt somewhat sorry for her, but as she was locking the gates behind me she whispered:

“But I know they’ll be just fine and that they’ll continue being the wonderful animals they are…”

Cecilia Bonavetti, nov. 2009.