Later, when Lord Basin had had a shower and changed his clothes, he sat down to his favorite breakfast, a boiled egg. That may not sound like much, but it was an ostrich egg.
The hen ostriches made no nests but just dropped their eggs on the grass, dozens of them, and the rangers had orders to take one to the Earl’s chef every now and again. The chef would boil the egg for a long time and then, using a
small saucepan as an eggcup, set it before Lord Basin, who would eat it with great enjoyment and a tablespoon.
His breakfast finished, the Earl went to his office. “John,” he said to his manager, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, yes, sir?”
“About my camel Hezekiah. I’ve just had a ride on him.”
“Really, sir?”
“Yes,” said the Earl. He rubbed his sore bottom absently. Next time, he thought, let’s just walk. “I’ve suddenly realized,” he said, “that though he’s settled in well at Shortseat and he’s healthy and seems quite happy, there is one thing that’s missing in his life, and that’s a mate. A female Bactrian camel is going to be very hard to find but I want to try, John. I want you to contact every zoo in this country, every zoo in Europe, every zoo in the world indeed, and find out if any of them has a suitable mate for my Hezekiah, and if so, how much they want for her.”
“Very well, sir,” replied the manager.
Visitors to Shortseat that day found the Earl of Basin a bit distracted. To be sure, he moved among them as usual, courteously answering any questions that they put to him (for politeness costs nothing), dressed in claret-colored corduroy
trousers, a mauve shirt with a saffron cravat, and a sequined suede jacket. But they did notice that at intervals he rubbed his backside and the more observant among them felt that the nobleman had something on his mind. He did. As soon as he could, he returned to his office.
“Any luck, John?” he asked his manager.
“Afraid not, sir.”
“No one’s got a Bactrian camel?”
“Haven’t found one yet.”
“Keep trying. Though if we do find a female and if they’re willing to sell, they’ll ask a huge amount of money. Maybe I can barter for her, but I haven’t any more white tigers to spare.” Then Lord Basin had a brainstorm.
There was a lake at Shortseat, and on the lake was an island, and on the island lived a little family of gorillas—a silverback male, his mate, and their son.
“Tell you what, John,” said the Earl. “We need to find a home for our young gorilla.”
The phone rang.
“For you, sir,” said the manager.
“Hello?” said the Earl.
“We are told that you are looking for a female Bactrian camel, and we have one here,” said the speaker (and he mentioned the name of a famous American zoo). “It occurred to us that you might be interested in an idea that we’ve had.”
“I might,” said the Earl.
“No doubt you have the occasional spare creature at
Shortseat, and perhaps there’s one that might interest us.”
“An exchange, d’you mean?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right,” said Lord Basin. “How would you like a few lions?”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh. Can you hold on a minute?”
“Sure.”
The Earl winked at his manager and held up one hand, fingers crossed.
“I’ve just had a brainstorm,” he said to the caller. “How would you like a gorilla?”
“A gorilla!”
“Yes, a young male.”
“In exchange for our young female Bactrian camel?”
“Yes. Straight swap. What do you say?”
And the answer was, “Done!”