Beware of wild people. They can be more dangerous than wild animals.
I’ve learned one thing about myself over the last year.
I’m impulsive.
Dad always said stubbornness was my biggest enemy in the wild. I never thought he was wrong. I’m trying to work on it, but when my heart clutches onto something tight enough, all logic drains from my brain.
I rest on a dead cypress tree and check my coordinates.
It’s been a couple hours now and still no Cat.
Not sure if she’s scared or hurt. It’s possible I’m tracking the wrong animal.
I bend down and run my hand over the sand until I spot another paw print. It’s definitely some kind of cat. Whether it’s my cat or not is the question.
I take a drink of water from my canteen and secure my pack. Then I pull on my baseball hat to block the sun and follow the tracks farther down the thin path.
In the distance, a panther shrieks, but I can’t tell from which direction.
Instead of turning back, I veer deeper and deeper into the Glades.
Since Birdee lives on the edge of the national park, it is easy to hike in any time—away from the noise, away from swamp tours, and away from all the tourists. The Everglades is the most remote area in the South, a sure way to be alone.
The sludgy path is sprinkled with puffs of bright green ferns and different colors of orchids—purple, yellow, and white. When I was little I thought the Glades was filled with only swamps and water. But I quickly learned there is a little bit of everything out here—swamps, forests, and plains. Whenever I miss my home in North Carolina, I hike into the hammocks where oaks, cypress trees, and willows stand along the edge of the deep swamps. The thick, lush trees—though very different from the Smokies—make me feel right at home.
The only difference is the sticky humidity.
I pour water onto my bandana and wrap it around my neck like a boy scout. If the swamps don’t kill you out here first, the unbearable heat is a dead second.
I hear another cat call and veer right, keeping my eye on the prints. They appear to grow larger. Then again, sometimes tracks spread in the soft mud.
Up ahead, I spot a few scratches along a tree trunk. I check the grooves. Definitely from some kind of large cat. Bear feet are wider and their claw marks run deeper.
Through the trees, a flash of yellow breaks through the green and brown backdrop.
Cat.
Picking up the pace, I follow the tracks. They lead to the edge of the woods that borders an open space. A large roar rides the wind.
I stop at the tree line. The little hairs on my neck prickle.
I don’t know my cat calls very well but that didn’t sound like a panther to me. It was much deeper. Louder. Florida panthers have high pitches and long wails. More of a screech and a hiss mixed together.
I squat at the edge of the clearing and peer through the thick brush. Across the grassy field, I make out the outline of a run-down home. I pull out my binoculars and search the property, scanning the fence line until I spot a sign.
Uncle Bob’s Animal Park.
I pull back from the viewer. Crap. Somehow, I’ve hiked a few miles and come up on the back of his property. I shift my position closer and scan along the house. On one side, a bunch of cages are stacked on top of each other. My stomach sinks. During the protests, I couldn’t see any of these from the road.
No wonder Sadie’s pissed off at this guy. Her obsession with Uncle Bob makes much more sense. From the road, I couldn’t see all this. Now, the same fire ignites in me. I sit there watching the animals in total disbelief. How can something like this happen here? There’s a freaking fake zoo barely a few miles from my house, sitting on the edge of the Everglades—home to several protected parks. Reminds me of the bear pits sitting on the Indian reservation in my hometown.
The two don’t belong together.
As soon as my eyes focus in on the first cage, my heart cracks. A ghastly-thin tiger cub lies in one corner of a pen. For the few minutes I watch him, he doesn’t move. As time passes, I become worried that he’s dead. Anger and panic urge me out of hiding. I want to run, scoop up this poor animal, and take him someplace safe. I want to save him. But trespassing is a local and federal offense. The tiger cub is bordered by a huge grizzly bear on one side and a pen of gray wolves on the other.
It’s like I’m back in those woods. Searching for Dad. Finding those cages. All the abused and starving bears milked for their bile. Bears paws cut off fresh kills and packaged for shipping. All for money.
Suffering pays.
I decide that there are worse things than trespassing. Like indifference.
I watch the property for a few minutes longer. When I get to one cage, I stop.
Cat sits in the corner, licking her paw. The thick, heavy chain is looped around her neck again.
Anger forces my fists to ball. She must be in pain by now because the medicine’s probably worn off. I can’t rescue all these animals, but I definitely won’t leave Cat here. Whether I’m trespassing or not.
When I’m sure no one is around, I race across the field. I make my way along the side of the house and sneak up behind Cat’s cage. As I move closer, the smell punches my nose. The zoo’s perfume is a strange concoction of rotting food, crap, and urine.
Next to Cat, a house of screeching monkeys notices me and goes ape shit.
Cat’s ears twitch at the noise but she continues licking her leg.
I slink along the perimeter. Past bears, past wolves, and past all the other abused animals. I wait behind Cat’s cage, checking the area before I put my plan in action. If the owner is close by, he won’t appreciate me creeping around his property. The dude was aggressive with Sadie and she wasn’t even on his land. The shotgun. The yelling. The threats. I can only imagine what he’d do if I got caught on his property. Pretty sure Uncle Bob won’t play around.
Once I think it’s safe, I creep up behind the panther’s cage. “Cat. You okay?”
The panther whips her head in my direction and stands. With her hurt foot drawn up, she limps over to the fence on three legs and rubs her head along the side of the chain links. For being so abused and neglected, she sure is friendly.
I poke two fingers through the fence and scratch her head. “You poor thing…” When I notice the chain digging into her blood-red neck again, tears spring to my eyes. When will we, as humans, ever learn to treat animals the right way? With even an ounce of respect. Many of us do it right, but there are too many of us that don’t give a crap.
I pull on the cage to test its strength. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here.” I move around and jiggle the heavy padlock. “They’ve got you good.”
The panther follows me around the pen as I search for a way in. I head to the rear of the pen and check all the latches. One is rusted. I pull out my knife and try prying it apart. It’s tight, but it loosens, giving me hope I can bust this cat out of here. And fast.
As I’m digging at the hinge, something roars and slams against the cage behind me.
I jump forward, dropping my knife. It clatters on Cat’s cage floor.
I quickly grab it and turn around just as a huge male lion throws himself against the cage behind me, trying to swipe his hand through the gate. He studies me with hunger and rage.
I almost have a heart attack until I realize he can’t bust out.
He continues to slam against the wire barrier. Over and over. His side is smeared with blood, probably from the jagged fence cutting into his skin.
I try to calm him down with my voice. “Easy, boy. Easy.”
The lion bares his huge fangs and roars. His eyes lock onto mine. I try to glance away but at the same time I’m fascinated by his utter handsomeness. Even though he appears ultra thin, he’s still as fierce as any animal I’ve ever seen.
He snarls, displaying his fangs, and stalks me as I frantically work on the latch. When he roars again, Cat races over, ignoring her hurt foot, and snarls a nasty panther growl. The kind that makes you want to cover your ears.
I step in between their cages and get her attention. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt me.”
I keep jimmying the cage as Cat paces behind me, following the lion back and forth like a mirror image.
The panther is protecting me, which I find totally amazing. Here is an animal that’s supposed to live out her life in the wild, having cubs and lounging in a cypress tree. Instead, she’s illegally captured and stuffed into a 12x12 prison. Even though she’s hung around me for less than a day, somehow, she still wants to protect me.
This makes me want to jailbreak her out faster.
I pick up my knife and keep the lion in my peripheral vision as I work. The whole time praying the cage is strong enough to prevent an attack. I chip and dig and pry until the hinge releases its grip. I wrap the bottom of my t-shirt around my hand and bend back the chicken wire to create enough space for Cat to squeeze out.
Somewhere around the side, a vehicle with a loud muffler drives up. The engine cuts off and footsteps crunch along the gravel. A man hums, triggering my biggest fear. Al.
I yank the wire doors back together. Cat stops on the other side, confused. I squat down and motion for her to stop. Like she can speak sign language or something. She sits and watches me intently, as if waiting for the “go” signal. Sometimes, I forget how smart animals are.
We all do.
My heart pounds. If I’m caught, not only will I get hit with trespassing charges, but there’s no way of knowing what this person might do. Especially if he figures out I’m stealing an endangered cat that probably brings in a crap load of cash.
Never eat the bread and butter of someone starving.
People who live off the grid don’t follow society’s rules. Nor do they want to.
The man mutters on the phone. Something about a white alligator and $50,000. Another under-the-table deal.
The footsteps grow closer. Luckily, I’m hiding behind the cage. Unless the owner walks back here or stares in my direction, I’m hidden.
The man approaches the lion’s den and picks up a metal pipe. He trails it down the cage, creating a loud noise.
The animal charges and slams into the fence. Growling. Slashing.
The man doesn’t flinch. He’s not the least bit scared. Instead, he continues harassing the poor lion. Teasing and goading it into a frenzy. “Come get me, yah big hairball! I need me a new fluffy rug.” The noise launches the lion into a state of insanity. The racket sets the monkey house up in arms. The ruckus must upset Cat because she starts pacing, even with a bad leg. Limping back and forth. Back and forth.
The man obviously gets bored quickly and moves on, approaching Cat’s cage. I press my body to the ground that smells of urine and mud. I pray he doesn’t see the hole in the cage. Or me.
He rattles the cage with both hands. “You’re lucky I have a heart, cat. You escape again; next time I’ll shoot you dead on the spot. I need the space. Got more animals coming in that’ll make me some big cash. So watch yourself. You hear me?” He kicks the fence hard.
Cat flattens her ears against her head as she growls and hisses.
The man cackles and moves on to terrorize the family of monkeys.
I remain hidden until he’s out of sight and exhale the hovering fear. If I could release all these animals, I would. Hopefully, they’d hunt down and feed on this moronic morsel of a man. Chances are they’re not all as tame as Cat and probably have been food-deprived for months.
A hungry tame animal is more dangerous than a wild well-fed animal.
Once I’m sure the man is gone, I stand and open the cage. “Come on, Cat. Let’s get out of this dump.”
The panther watches me. Her ears rise back up to a perky position. She slinks toward me with her head down in a cowering stance. I coax her to safety and slip the rope through the collar. Her neck is still bleeding from the chains, but she still lets me touch her.
When I lead her out, I hear someone walk up behind me.
I freeze, afraid to turn around.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”