DAY 277: UP PANGOLIN CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE
I feel a bit lost. Like I’m lost in the jungle. Ask Ann, I’ve just been on the phone whining to her.
My arms are pumped up but I have no paddle. I desperately want to help the pangolins but if go out into the wild to find one I’ll be eaten by snakes, if I rescue one from a trader it will die on me, if I feed Lucky peanuts he will roll over and expire and if I all I do is tell you about it you’ll get bored of me like Pippa Russell did on my first date , aged 10, when I showed her my breakdance moves.
I’ve bought a local phone and made over sixty calls to various international experts in the fields – charity workers, biologists, Phd students, scientists, government officials – to find out where I can go to get more access to the illegal trade. Either no one knows or they won’t answer my calls or they are out eating pangolin burgers or my phone is actually a child’s phone that pretends to make calls.
In the meantime I’ve given up rescuing the frogs and decided to accept I am one with nature. I’ve named the frog that appears every morning Chad and the cockroach Josephine on account of her elegant walk. The termites have moved in and the mosquitoes live on the toilet wall. It does raise an interesting point though: to accept animals as having rights doesn’t mean you have to love them. As Peter Singer, the philosopher and poster boy for the animal liberation said, just because you believe blacks should have the same moral consideration as whites doesn’t mean you have to to coo at them and love all black people. I have decided therefore to put a mosquito net and stop the frog sleeping under my pillow.
Weirdly, after writing this I got a message from Phuong to say that 57 pangolins have just been seized on the Chinese border. And get this, already 48 of them have died. Those 48 have already been sold on to restaurants but the other 7 are on their way to Hanoi. I’m going to try and go and get them…..