Page 22 of The Summer Island Swap
Was that aimed at me?
‘Yes. And others are from the rescue centre south from here, in Colombia, where Jackie worked. They were overrun last year and couldn’t cope. Most of those had their wings clipped by poachers. Others were injured after being stuffed in lead pipes, to smuggle them out of the country on boats.’
Clearly this work was Rick’s passion. His eyes shone and his hands moved in a lively fashion as he talked about the animals.
‘Some birds have been well enough to be released here,’ he said. ‘But most of these ones will be permanent residents. We also have an owl from Colombia. Over there they are associated with witchcraft.’ He pointed to a tawny speckled owl. ‘Wink is a screech owl. She was stoned. A passer-by intervened but not before her wing was irreversibly fractured. And across the Virgin Islands this species is now endangered due to deforestation. Funds allowing, it would be great to find her a partner and start a breeding programme to benefit the whole region.’
There was a large flight cage for fruit bats covered in plywood sheets to keep the inside dark.
‘It’s not advisable to house different species of bat together – or even ones of the same species but from different roosts,’ said Rick. ‘In here we house the ones we found injured in the same area – it looked like they’d come from a single roost in one of the large trees that had been blown over. They’ve bred since we rescued them in 2017 and we’re hoping to release this lot soon. Then we’ll turn this cage into another aviary.’
The next enclosure had a large pool and was home to seabirds that had been swept into trees and buildings during the hurricane and lost limbs. On from that was the lizards’ enclosure. Survivors of the hurricane had managed to cling to trees but numbers had been badly affected so Rick and Jackie were running a breeding programme, away from predators. They were doing the same with tree boas. Apparently they were endangered across the whole of the British Virgin Island region due to deforestation. We were also taken past a pair of iguanas who’d been permanently injured by the storm.
This was an expensive break but I was beginning to see how the money was needed and would be used.
‘And lastly,’ said Rick, as Chatty threw his hat on the ground again, ‘here is the butterfly enclosure. Volunteers have almost finished building it. By this time next year, we’re hoping it will be buzzing with endangered species.’
‘I thought there would be more animals,’ said Benedikt.
‘You mean the furry kind?’ asked Rick. ‘It is something we are working on – but only from a financial point to raise funds to restore the whole island. We know cuter looking residents will make the place more attractive as a destination and give us a wider reach when it comes to attracting volunteers – and educating people about conservation. So we’re putting feelers out to other rescue centres in the Caribbean that are getting overcrowded. The most important thing is that any animal is suited to our specific habitat and that we can provide all the necessary nutrients from plants growing here.
‘Colombia has a real problem with sloth smuggling, for example, but they are incredibly sensitive animals. Jackie isn’t convinced they would thrive here. Their diet has to be one hundred per cent accurate and we aren’t like a national zoo – our money for importing animal feed and growing foreign species of plants is limited.’ He consulted his watch. ‘Right, we’ve been here longer than I planned. I’ll show you the beach and trail clearing areas tomorrow.’ He glanced at his shoulder. ‘How about we head straight to the canteen, Chatty? The other volunteers should be back and washed now, and ready for something to eat. Malik might even have one of your favourite hard-boiled eggs.’
Chatty cocked his head and squeaked and whistled.
‘That means yes,’ said Rick with confidence. ‘It’s a great food for him as long as he doesn’t smell and try to swipe any mayonnaise.’
Rick told everyone to go back along the path we’d come along, and then instead of going straight into our camp we were to veer right, past the shower block and the two other clusters of shacks. At a fast pace it should take about twenty minutes to reach the canteen. Helga and Amy strode off, in a deep conversation. Benedikt and Jonas followed.
My shoelace was undone. I bent over to do it up, wishing I’d tied my long hair back in a ponytail. I started whistling ‘Daydream Believer’ by the Sixties pop group, the Monkees, inspired by Chatty. It had been Mum’s favourite song. When I straightened up Rick was waiting for me. He’d locked up Chatty’s cage to make sure snakes didn’t get in whilst the monkey was away. Chatty had stopped moving and squeaking.
‘Blimey. He must like that song. He’s so rarely quiet.’
I stopped whistling and reached out to touch the animal’s back. He jumped.
‘Don’t ever forget that he’s blind,’ said Rick. ‘If you are going to touch him then talk first in a reassuring tone. If those false nails are detachable, I’d take them off – or he will. Same for your hair extensions.’
‘Excuse me… both are my own.’
‘Your long earrings will have to go too. They could get caught in foliage.’ He started walking. ‘There is intermittent Wi-Fi at the canteen. Perhaps you should try to download our website and read it. I did set all these things out in the guidelines. I assume you haven’t made time to study them, but you really ought to now.’
‘Clearly, you’ve got me sussed,’ I said in a tight voice.
‘I’m not very good at sussing people,’ he continued.
Silence fell for a moment. I sensed a story that he didn’t want to tell.
‘Believe me, Sarah, I’m only trying to be helpful and get you up to speed with everyone else. There’s a lot of work to do this summer. One less team member is better than one who isn’t fully invested in our cause – for their sake and ours. Right. We’d better catch up with the rest.’
I stopped and pretended to tie my hair, waiting for him and Chatty to disappear. Chatty was an utter delight but I’d rather walk back on my own than have to spend a single second more with that Rick.
11
I made my way along the path, with random stems growing across it. Sooner than I expected, it veered to the right. Rick had said that would happen when we reached our shacks but I wasn’t near them yet. However all the paths had to lead in the same direction. Perhaps this would even be a short cut and I’d beat Mr Know-It-All back.
So what if I took my chances? I’d learnt not to be risk-adverse with Dad. During my teenage years I’d started to call him out. Pressured him to compliment a new dress of Anabelle’s. Comforted Amy in front of him, to make him realise he’d done wrong. Of course, it often resulted in me being grounded or missing pocket money but that was better than living a lie and letting him think he was the perfect father.
This had increasingly been the problem at Best Travel. Prue was against the slightest, best calculated risk but my nature told me that veering from the straight line, sometimes, was the only way to make progress.
