Preparing the Zoo for Christmas

I scrubbed and shoveled hard, hauling mound after mound of dung out of the enclosure and scouring the food troughs that hadn’t been cleaned in days. By noon, I’d only finished about seventy percent of the job, but the elephant enclosure already looked worlds better.

I didn’t stop there. I ran to prepare their feed next, only to find the supplies painfully sparse. There were mostly palm fronds and some dry, brittle hay. There weren’t even vegetables, let alone fruit.

“Is this all the elephants eat?” I asked the woman working next to me. “The zoo isn’t short on funds, right?”

“I wouldn’t know. I feed the capybaras. Their food’s worse,” she said hurriedly before rushing off.

I pressed my lips together and grabbed as many bundles of hay and leaves as I could carry back to the elephants. When I returned, the group chat chimed.

Ellie the Elephant: [She worked so hard cleaning that I thought she might be a good human. But as it turns out, she’s just like the others, feeding us dry hay!]

Benny the Elephant: [I’m so hungry. I want papaya. It’s been ages since I had papaya. Boohoo…]

North the Polar Bear: [Stop crying. I ate rotten fish today. At least a pile of hay would’ve been better.]

I hesitated for a second, then dumped the feed into the enclosure. The elephants shuffled over, eating with hollow, weary looks. There was only grief and resentment in their eyes. The old elephant didn’t come near. Instead, it lay down and stared blankly outside the enclosure as if lost in thought.

While they ate, I bolted to my car, drove to the nearest supermarket, and cleared out the produce section. Mangosteens, apples, bananas, papayas, cabbage—I bought as much as I could and had the store deliver the rest to the zoo.

Before long, the feed room was piled high with fresh produce. My coworkers stared in disbelief, but I ignored them, hauled three full baskets of fruit and vegetables, and took them to the elephant enclosure.

When the fresh produce hit the floor, the elephants froze. They had been chewing on dry, tasteless hay and sour leaves. They clearly hadn’t expected anything like this.

“Eat! There’s plenty,” I urged, tossing a mangosteen toward the old elephant.

It didn’t react at first. As the fruit hit the ground and cracked open, white flesh spilling like jelly and smelling sweet, the old elephant stared at it. Then, it slowly curled its trunk around the mangosteen and examined it as if it couldn’t believe such a thing existed. Finally, it looked at me.

“Go on. Try it. It’s sweet,” I encouraged.

Its mouth watered, and in a blur, it scooped the whole mangosteen into its mouth. For the first time, I saw contentment and something like gratitude on an animal’s face. The others went wild, devouring the produce like they’d been starved for years. I ran back and forth three more times with baskets until the chaos subsided.

Meanwhile, the chat exploded.

Ellie the Elephant: [Dad, I got an apple! It’s so sweet. I’m tearing up!]

Benny the Elephant: [Wow, cabbage and papaya. They’re my favorite!]

Pedro the Parrot: [What’s all this yapping? I got slapped by a zookeeper again today. It’s been fifty-six days since I wanted to peck that human’s eyes out!]

Thor the Tiger: [Stupid elephants. Remember, every bit of human kindness hides a hunter’s rifle.]