Southend U3A

Writing for Fun

The Lure Of The Wild - Pete Norman

June 2014

July 21st 1968 was the day that changed Martin's life forever. It was a red letter day, an unwinding of Tutankhamen day, a day when a rabbit was pulled out of the hat . . . except this was no conjurer's trick and there was no hat – instead it was a very large and very heavy steel cage; and there was no rabbit – instead it was a very large and very heavy and very angry orang-utang.

When the zoo gates had been safely closed the tarpaulin was pulled off the cage. It was immediately clear that the anaesthetic was wearing off prematurely and the orang-utang, which was almost completely filling the cage, was beginning to discover the cramps and pains in its muscles and the claustrophobic space from which he could not escape. When the cage was winched off the lorry onto the zoo's flat-back run-around it was shaking violently as almost 200lbs of Pongo Pygmaeus vented its considerable fury at its discomfort.

Martin had studied orang-utangs as part of his Zoology degree and he had seen many of them at zoos around the country, but he had never been up close and personal with one quite as enraged as this before, and this animal was intimidating. The bars on the cage were half an inch thick but they were actually flexing under the pressure from the ape's powerful grip. He was shrieking at the top of his lungs, the dreadful sound amplified by his heavy throat pouch to ear-shattering proportions. His snarl revealed a mouth full of heavy, sharp teeth framed by four huge incisors, but, in contrast, above them his deep brown eyes appeared disorientated, bewildered and frightened.

The team moved the cage into the great ape enclosure and with considerable care Fu Manchu was released from his confinement into the relative luxury of the sleeping quarters. Martin spent some time at the observation window watching him, anxious to see how he would react to his new surroundings, but after an initial cursory exploration of the compact space, Fu Manchu settled into the furthest corner where he stayed, staring lifelessly at the window and at the staff observing him.

Martin had originally taken this position in the zoo hoping to step into dead man's shoes when the big cat keeper retired, for that was his true passion: the elegant magnificence of the tigers; the regal power of the lions; the feline grace of the cheetah. It was true that he had only intended to mark time with the great apes, but as he stared at the cowed and isolated creature through the window he somehow knew that this one was different. He looked less like an animal and more what he truly was, 'orang' – 'utang': a 'man' – 'of the forest'. A man who had been plucked violently from his forest, imprisoned, tormented and . . . when Fu Manchu looked back at him there was intelligence and understanding in those sentient eyes.

After a week Fu Manchu was allowed out of his sleeping quarters into the main enclosure for a few hours each day, to the delight of the zoo's visitors, to whom he was fast becoming a favourite.

From his cage he had a clear view of the two females, Alice and Freda. Martin watched with interest as the ape came to terms with his new experience, but to his surprise, after a short burst of frenetic display, when he realised that he could not reach them, he seemed to completely lose interest, retiring instead to squat in the corner of the wire cage. The only time that he appeared to exhibit any curiosity for anything was when Martin came to feed him.

Martin's routine each morning never varied; he entered the enclosure with a simple stainless steel bowl filled with choice cuts of a variety of different fruits. As a part of the zoo's policy of attempting to 'stimulate his cognitive functions', he carefully distributed the fruit around the whole area, hanging it on the wooden beams or hiding it beneath the straw. While he carried out this task the ape would comically waddle after him, as ungainly on two legs as he was supremely graceful in the trees, appearing to watch his actions with fascination. Martin had been advised to keep his distance as a full grown orang-utang was a powerful beast with the strength to pose a serious threat to a man, but he had never felt even a hint of threat from this gentle giant and had always been confident to move freely around his enclosure. However, he always made sure he announced his arrival each time so as not to surprise and potentially threaten his charge.

Each day when he called out, 'Hey, Fu-boy!' Fu Manchu would appear from his sleeping quarters and, grinning widely, follow him around the enclosure peering over his shoulder, as if memorising the placing of each and every treat. When the metal bowl was finally empty the great ape would shyly take him by a soft leathery hand and walk with him back to the entrance and watch while Martin opened the door and closed it securely behind him. His relationship with this enigmatic creature was closer than he had ever managed to achieve with any of those other, supposedly more superior primates, a little closer to home.

One day, after the last piece of fruit had been distributed, Martin felt the empty bowl being gently prized from his fingers. To his surprise the ape carefully pushed it out of sight under a large piece of straw. Martin went to retrieve it, but stopped; the ape's expression was clear enough – the game was on. When he arrived the next day he went to find the bowl but it was no longer there. Fu Manchu gazed into his eyes, took his hand and led him across the cage to where he could see the edge of the bowl gleaming beneath the rubber tyre swing. His expression was inscrutable, but it was clear that the ape had created a game for them both to play. After that, every day the bowl was concealed in a different place and Martin was expected to play hide and seek while his tormentor followed in his footsteps, clearly enjoying the entertainment.

Life appeared idyllic, but one fateful day, on his way back from lunch, Martin heard a shrill scream, 'Daddy! Daddy! Look at the monkey!'

The tone of the cry was unsettling, but the sound of the orangutan shrieking clinched it. He ran across to the Great Apes enclosures and stopped dead in his tracks. Fu Manchu was out. He was hanging onto the outside of the female's enclosure hurling himself violently against the wire, trying to tear his way through. Martin put himself between the ape and the child and yelled out, 'Fu-boy! What the hell do you think you're doing?'

The ape turned to face him, a steely expression set in his large face. Martin was wary; this creature was immense and powerful. He himself was close on six feet tall but on his feet the ape was only an inch or so shorter and weighed considerably more. Slowly the orangutan climbed down the wire. Martin inched his way towards him intent only on trying to contain the situation until help arrived. Without thinking he held out his hand as he would to a misbehaving child. Fu Manchu's jaw opened exposing an evil array of teeth and his top lip curled up in a parody of a smile. The ape reached out and took Martin's hand in a firm leathery grip and then, surprisingly meekly, he allowed himself to be walked back to his enclosure.

Philip, the head keeper came rushing over and helped to secure the cage. 'Martin, what's going on? How did he get out?'

Martin had no idea, but as they walked around the back the question was answered – the keeper's access door was open.

'You idiot! Roland'll have your guts for garters! How on earth could you be so careless?'

But Martin was not listening. He knew that he was always meticulous with the security of the enclosure; that it was not he who had left the door open. However, he knew the buck would end here and he would be the one taking the rap for it.

The Zoo Director was indeed furious; he would not accept any explanation from Martin, all he kept repeating was that the safety of the public was paramount and that if any of those people who had been frightened today decided to sue, it could bankrupt the zoo. He told Martin that he was putting a written notice of warning on his record and that any further negligence would be dealt with more severely.

Martin slung back to the enclosure and studied the door carefully. He opened it and then closed it with a satisfying clang. He rattled it hard, but the catch held firm and would not spring open. He tried it again several times, but nothing short of turning the key in the lock would allow the door to open. He suddenly felt a presence and turned to see Fu Manchu sidling up behind him. He flipped his upper lip in a grin and his eyes flashed with mischievous intent.

For a moment, just for one fleeting moment, Martin allowed himself to contemplate the improbable, but he shook himself; it was not just improbable, it was ridiculous and impossible.

The public gone and his working day over Martin changed into his street clothes and on his way out decided to pay one last visit to the Great Ape's enclosure. To his horror the keeper's door was wide open again. He ran around to the front and there was Fu Manchu shambling across towards the female's cage. He screamed out, 'Fu-boy! Stop!'

The ape stopped and turned slowly around. His top lip curled up and in a slick movement he slipped his hand to his mouth. Martin could hardly believe what he had just witnessed, but if it was true . . .

Fu Manchu allowed himself to be led passively back to his cage and once it was secure Martin knew exactly what he had to do. He was not happy to do it – with all those impressive teeth he was very unhappy to have to do it – but if he wanted to keep his job then he had no alternative. He spoke softly, reassuringly, more to settle his own nerves than the orangutan, and finally he plucked up the courage. He reached forward and put his hand on the ape's cheek. Fu Manchu stared up into his eyes and his top lip flipped up; Martin could see a glint of metal beside the teeth. Instinctively he reached in and pulled out a short piece of thick metal which looked suspiciously like the wire of the enclosure cage.

He walked over to the keeper's door and slipped the piece of wire into the lock and, with a few seconds of firm wiggling, the tongue slid back and the door swung open. Amazed he turned back into the cage.

Fu Manchu closed one eye.

Martin was certain it was a wink.