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“Can I kiss you, Charlie?”
Sweet Mother Nature, it’s about damn time. These two idiots have been circling each other for the better part of their stay, and it’s become nearly unbearable to watch… and yet, here I am, unblinking and riveted.
Idiots, you ask? Did you expect me to say numpties or some other British-ism? Well, think again. I’m a native, unlike those two. I was here first, after all… but more on that later.
Listen, I’m not some kind of monster. It’s sweet to see these two finally getting their shit together, at least a little. Mating rituals are hot, regardless of species. Okay, except for praying mantises and wasp spiders; those females are cannibalistic queens and nobody ever needs to see that; if you aren’t familiar, bask in your blissful ignorance. I’m serious – do not look them up. Do not pass go, do not push the red button. Consider yourself warned.
Anyway, it’s not like I have access to Netflix to binge some sappy young adult show. I can see everything in plain sight from where I sit, so it’s up to me to create a dramatic narrative to pass the time and entertain myself. These elephants are so much smarter than they look and will occasionally provide stimulating conversation, but most of the time they are manipulating the hell out of those humans like some brilliant puppet masters. Which is very fun to watch, if you’re wondering. These ellies have the anthropoids wrapped around their trunks while also thinking they are “making progress” with their big friends. It’s a master class in animal kingdom power plays and, frankly, I’m here for it. Knock those bipeds down a peg or seven.
From what I can hear, the floppy ginger-headed giant finally admitted to sending mixed signals because he’s confused, though he’s certain that he’s “definitely not straight.” Is it cool to state incredibly obvious things now? The sky is blue. The earth is round. Giraffes are gay camels.
I can barely hear as the one with the curly hair who says y’all mumble whispers something. Like, come on – you’re a gay nerd! Didn’t a theater teacher ever stress the importance of enunciating and projecting? I think he’s saying something about how whatever it is that’s happening between the two of them feels impossible and the age difference is too much? Oh, and he posits that the ginger is straight. I’m not going to call bi-erasure on this one because it seems new to everyone, but I will call bullshit. Open your eyes, Curls, or is that piece of metal penetrating the skin over one of them blinding you?
Oh good, they’re smashing their faces together again. Enough talk, more of this. I think I would give this evening’s episode an E rating because everyone would enjoy it. That’s how this works, right?
I must’ve briefly nodded off because when I wake up, the two of them are nowhere to be seen, presumably having relocated to somewhere more private to continue their little dance.
—
The next day, I don’t pay as much attention to those two, since everyone else is out and about for daily chores and giving the elephants their full attention… even if they are all engaged in too many sidebars and hushed conversations in varying combinations to keep track of. Between you and me, the majority of the hominids seem to be motivated by carnal desires of some variety. Is it hormones? Are they so susceptible to changes in their bodies that they are simply horny and distracted? Is there something in the water? Or is the brown liquid they refer to as coffee seemingly altering their brain chemistry?
After I complete my regular survey of this place, making sure I mentally catalog any changes made, I look for my infatuated protagonists to see if they are channeling their inner peacocks or pretending like no one else has noticed them.
Oh boy, oh bless. One of them is talking to Thongin. This is rich. It’s hard to hear, so I get as close as I can without alerting the big one, but it isn’t close enough to make out the details.
What is happening, friends, is that this earnest human is talking to an elephant, seemingly confessing his deepest thoughts and expecting sage advice in return. What the fuck are you doing talking to Thongin, ginger tower? You know she cannot talk back to you in a way you can understand, right? I need you to believe me. Have some self-respect.
This part of the day tends to feel routine and blend together with the others that came before it, so I connect with a few friends and we plan a visit to catch up with the gay camels. Yes, the giraffes. I wasn’t joking when I said that earlier. As we’re getting ready to leave, we see the humans packing themselves into hideous metal shapes on wheels and leaving this place. They do this sometimes. Which means my drama is on hiatus and I can step away guilt-free. Otherwise, I’d be reeling with a terrible case of FOMO.
—
A few days later, we’re finally back and I realize it’s quite late. We got a bit carried away on our excursion. If a giraffe ever asks if you’re up for a good time, just say yes, pack some snacks, and save the thinking for later.
I see my curly-haired friend (I can practically hear your eye-rolling - just let me enjoy this parasocial relationship, okay?) sitting alone on a blanket by the lake. Alone? Where’s the other one? Did he get lost? Was he sacrificed? Did he reach his limit cleaning up elephant poo as a vacation and decide to peace out, never to be seen again?
Anyway, the metal-bearing one looks… off. His breathing seems a bit quick for being otherwise at rest and he’s sort of staring at nothing. Is this what the other animals have informed me is a panic attack? I can’t be sure, but while I’m thinking, I see a shadow moving and oh my stars, it’s the other one, back from the dead! Okay, he clearly wasn’t dead and doesn’t show signs of maiming but it’s my story, so kindly back off and let me continue with a bit of artistic flair.
They’re both seated on the blanket and seem extra tense. It sounds like there’s a bit of a heated discussion and, between you and me, these two are so clearly overthinking it; typical of creatures with heads as big as theirs. Mine may be significantly smaller but I prize myself on my intellectual efficiency.
There’s more talk about age differences and break-ups and I’m suddenly wondering about the ethics of dropping a poo of my own between – on? – them in an attempt to momentarily snap them out of whatever funk this is. Alas, we have a code similar to that of National Geographic: don’t seek out human attention, consider how your actions may impact the people you’re observing, and be especially careful during breeding season.
I snap out of my ethics spiral and notice the talking has stopped and my two stars are… connecting in a way that seems preferable to whatever attempt at conflict resolution they were previously engaged in. Oh, now this is what I came for, ladies, gentle creatures, and non-binary royalty. I like this very much.
After thoroughly taking in the scene, which should be sexy to almost any species in any universe, this feels like as good a time as any for me to fly off into the night and give them some privacy. I may be a rabid audience, but I’m not a total voyeur. I'm just a bird, sitting above two humans, watching them fall in love.
Oxpecker , out.