The Whale and the Mouse

Between the beluga pool and the otter habitat - although it’s actually, really, a pool, is a walkway. It’s called a walkway which is a fancy name. It’s just a path. No one calls a path in the forest a walkway, or says there’s a walkway through a field. Anyway, it has walls of fake stone, and It wanders around in a kind of figure eight so you can choose either marvelous animal to look at. Well, the path dips down on one side of the habitat so you can watch the otters underwater. It dips the same way on the far side of the beluga pool, but it goes right underground and comes back out again.

Have you seen a beluga whale up close? They‘re really pretty. They don’t even seem sad, being in a pool and not the ocean or anything. I mean, there’s no predators chasing them, and they get fed everyday, so I guess life’s pretty good for them. They just always have this smile on their faces, like they have a secret and the secret is - be happy - because! Right? And they ripple underwater when they swim which is kind of funny to say; they’re swimming all the time, but you know what I mean.

And the otters! They’re never sad either. They sure know how to have a good time. I don’t think they’re as smart as the belugas. They’re kind of like boys that way. They don’t really think about things too hard. Don’t get me wrong. They’re really clever and all. They’re constantly inventing games and they can figure out how to eat anything. They just don’t look at you when you look at them. The belugas do, though. They see right inside.

My dad is the curator of marine mammals, so I practically live here in the summer. I’m too young to get a job, so I pretty much have the run of the place. I can go anywhere, and sometimes we have dinner here, just me and my dad, when he stays late. I don’t mind. He makes time for me and I always get fries. He’s a really good dad. And I like it when it’s quiet and all the visitors aren’t here. It’s when Henry comes out.

Probably everyone doesn’t know that there’s all kinds of machinery and stuff underneath all the fake rock and cement here. I guess if people thought about it, they would. I never did, until I saw the mouse. I told my dad about him. He explained that if little Henry, that’s what I named him, found a hole big enough to squeeze into or gnaw to make bigger, there would be lots and lots of room for him to live and that it would be very warm all year round. I said that it would be awfully dark. He said, “Mice don’t mind.”

Right between the belugas and the otters, there’s a kind of fold in the fake rock stuff on the otter side. Right at the bottom, there’s a little hole that you would never see unless you were looking for it. I followed that little mouse around that walkway a whole bunch of times before I ever got close enough to see him zip in there. He must have thought it was pretty funny watching me run around chasing nothing, if mice think about that sort of thing.

After I knew where he lived, it was super easy to become friends. Fries will do that for you, if you ever want to make friends with a mouse. Or at least not have it run away from you. I don’t know if he was ever my friend. I was his friend though and that was good enough for me.

I wasn’t allowed to feed any of the animals there in the park. Once, I was behind where all the tanks were for the fish, and I threw in a couple of handfuls of floating food for the salmon. They went nuts for it and five of them jumped right out and onto the floor. I ran away and they found them the next morning. I got in a lot of trouble for that.

Dad did not know I was feeding Henry. I was very careful. Actually no one knew. The cleaners have a schedule. I would just hang out ‘til they were gone. So did Henry. Once they were gone, he would come out. He always got right to it. His nose was amazing. You see, the cleaners never really get the edges of walls. That was where he went to town. His little nose would be twitching like mad. You can see a mouse really good from about ten feet away with binoculars. There’s lots to eat.

He got pretty used to me. I would lie there and have to put the binoculars down because he would get too close. He would skootch right beside me and continue on past along the wall searching for supper. One time, I put a piece of a fry in my jacket pocket with a trail kind of leading him to it. He ate all the crumbs but never went in. I wouldn’t have kept him. I just wanted to see if he would. He was a smart little mouse.

Once school started back up, and Girl Guides was back on, we had a special sleepover down below in the big open space where you can watch the belugas and the killer whales. I didn’t mention them before, but they're there, too. I don’t like them so much, though. They’re pretty scary. The boy one ate a seagull that was just sitting on the water, right before a whale show last summer. That was something! There was blood and feathers everywhere. There’s polar bears, too, but they’re just lazy. They might be sad, but I don’t know.

Anyways, it was really cool to have our unit there. (Cubs are dens and Guides are units). And we could be there, because my dad is like the head honcho of the place. After closing time, we all got a private tour and I got to help because I practically knew all the words by heart, especially the spiel for the belugas and otters. We had a barbecue cookout with hotdogs and hamburgers. We couldn’t have a fire or anything, but it was the best time ever, until we all went to bed and Henry came out.

Now, to be honest, I don't know why I named him Henry. I don't know if he was even a boy and I don't know a Henry in real life. I just always thought he was a Henry. Sometimes I wonder if it all happened because of me, because I named him and was his friend. Dad says it’s not my fault, that it couldn’t be, but I still feel guilty sometimes.

At night time, most of the lights go out, but they stayed on under where we were sleeping. That way, we could get to the bathrooms okay if we needed to. It was all dim and kind of romantic looking, because there was blue light coming in from the pools, too. We were tucked in with sleeping bags and pillows and everyone was pretty much asleep. A couple kids even brought stuffies. I had forgotten all about Henry. I guess he smelled a midnight snack.

I didn’t know he was there until Emily rolled over onto my hair. I woke up, opened my eyes and there he was, right against the wall under the beluga windows looking right at me. He wasn’t afraid or anything. He was just holding a crumb of something between his little hands, nibbling away and looking right at me. I looked back and I know I smiled a sleepy smile at him right before Emily screamed. All of a sudden, everyone was yelling and screaming “Mouse!” and Henry was tearing all over the place, and everyone was jumping and throwing shoes at him, and I just sat there watching it all. Henry made a dash along the wall for the walkway and home, but one of the leaders thumped him with her shoe. It was a real “thump''. Girl Guide leaders are called Owls. Dad says it’s ironic, but I don’t really care. It was the Brown Owl who killed Henry. She said there was no blood and for everyone to calm back down and go to sleep, but she didn’t let anyone get a look at it. Grey Owl and her took care of it. And I sat there, just watching it happen. I didn’t try to stop anyone. I didn’t yell or anything.

You ever get the feeling that you’re being watched and you turn around and there’s no one there? Well, I got that feeling and I looked around and Qila, the beluga, was right there, against the glass, looking at me. She was standing straight up like she was on a pedestal display with her head kind of bowed into the glass and she was looking right into me. My face got hot but I couldn't look away. She was waiting for an answer, but I didn’t know what the question was. Her smile returned just as I realized I would have tried to keep Henry, and she floated slowly backwards and disappeared into the blue haze.

I haven’t told anyone about this, but I have thought about it a lot. I think the otters really are like boys, and the bears are just sad. I think the killer whales are angry. But I know the belugas are really wise and kind. They don’t have to smile.