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Felix and the Flamingo

by David Hankins

Felix ruffled his red tail feathers in irritation. Of all the birds to get quarantined with, why a flamingo? Flamingos were idiots! And they stank, too. The Candice Lisle Avian Quarantine Center was supposedly the pride of Lincoln Park Zoo, but to Felix it was nothing more than a musty cement room lined with cages. Only the two largest were occupied.

Felix glared across the room at Mateo who stood in his own cage–on one leg–with the satisfied calm of domestication. Felix would never accept captivity. He itched with the need to soar, to hunt with his mate!

The gaping void in his belly gurgled. Four days since the humans disappeared. He was hungry!

Felix activated his neural link and tried explaining their situation. Again.

<Look, you dumb flamingo. The humans–>

<It’s Mateo, please!> The flamingo’s chip-transmission registered as a rich baritone with a pretentious accent. <Honor my Chilean heritage. Just because you’re a wild raptor–>

<Red-tailed hawk!>

<–your lack of culturio gives you no right to demean the ancient heritage of the magnifica Chilean Flamingo!>

<Get over yourself. I’ve heard real Spanish, and yours sucks. You were bred in captivity and hatched right here in Chicago. You’ve never tasted free skies.> A deep longing for home, for freedom, nearly overwhelmed Felix. He snapped his beak, chirped irritably, and started again.

<Mateo, the humans aren’t coming back.>

<Humans would never abandon us! They love us and give us food!>

<They microchipped our brains, didn’t like the results, and abandoned us to die!>

<We’re being reintegrated into–>

<No!> Hunger made Felix snappish. He could eat a terrier right now. Or a flamingo. <It’s been four days! At least they left you a bowl of dried shrimp. Did I get any extra rats? No! The humans don’t care about us! We’re on our own. Now, I can’t reach the latch on my cage, but you can reach yours. So stop arguing and get us out of here!>

Mateo honked and waggled his beak from side to side–as if attempting to jog two brain cells together–then said, <Very well. If it’ll stop your bellyaching. What did you want me to do again?>

Felix’s belly had never ached like it did right now. Nor had his head. He tried to sound calm. <Stick your long neck through that gap under your gate. Then reach up and pull the lever on your cage door. It’s a simple deadbolt.> Mateo just blinked at him, head cocked.

An entire week of this. He’d been trying to convince Mateo to escape since the day they were dumped at the zoo. Then four days ago the humans didn’t return, and Felix’s pleas turned desperate. At least in the lab, he hadn’t been dependent on this imbecile. He’d had humans to help–

No. Those were the thoughts of domestication.

Mateo’s two brain cells must have finally found each other. He settled onto the straw-covered floor and squeezed his head under the gate. It caught for a moment, he honked an ay, mama-mia! and then he was through.

<That’s it!> Felix said. <The deadbolt’s right th–>

<Oi!> a rough British accent interrupted his chip-transmission.

Felix’s head snapped up. He’d never heard another voice in his head besides Mateo’s, transmitted through his microchip. They’d been the only birds in the lab. He craned his head in quick jerky movements, looking out the windows. No birds looking in. <Yes! Help us!>

<Right on! Where you at?>

<Lincoln Park Zoo! The Lisle Quarantine Center.>

<Whatcha doin’ there? Eh, no matter. On my way from the cafeteria!>

Felix screeched for joy. Help was coming! And they sounded competent. Unlike Mateo.

A click and a metallic creak from across the room snapped his attention back to the flamingo. The bonehead had done it! Mateo strode from his cage with a jaunty little dance.

<Now me! Let me out!> Felix hopped from his perch and flapped his wings, bouncing around his cage’s straw-covered floor.

Mateo marched across the bare cement and looked down upon Felix, his head cocked once again in that infuriating non-expression.

<The deadbolt! Pull the deadbolt!>

Mateo bobbed his head from side to side, his way of saying no. <I suppose I shouldn’t expect manners from a wild bird.>

<What?>

<Manners, courtesy, couth! All week you’ve pestered me, but never once did you say por favor.>

<Please? You’ve waited all week for…please?> Unbelievable! Felix screeched at the nitwit outside his cage. <–Fine. Please. PLEASE! Let me OUT!>

Mateo chortled and pulled the deadbolt with his beak. Felix threw himself at the gate. It popped open and he flopped into the room. Free! He was free! Felix couldn’t fly properly–the scientists had clipped their wings–so his flight turned into a happy hop across the cement.

The entry door clicked open and both birds jumped and turned. A brown rat the size of a terrier sauntered in, bulging with muscles and walking on his hind legs like a human. A leather satchel swung by his side.

Hunger burned every thought from Felix’s head. He was a starving predator and dinner had just waltzed in.

Dinner stared at him wide-eyed and mumbled aloud, “Bloody Hell!”

Felix’s hunting shriek bounced off the walls, and he shot across the room. The rat dodged and Felix’s talons snagged the satchel’s strap. He swung onto the rat’s back and pecked at its spine. The first peck missed and the second pierced the swinging satchel. The rat twisted and squirmed.

“Get off! Ya bloody bird! Get offa me!”

Felix lost his balance, fell to the cement, and yanked at the satchel in his beak. Something inside tore and the taste of cold fish flooded Felix’s senses.

Food!

He yanked chunks of fish from a foil pouch. He’d never tasted anything so good.

The rat shook loose of the satchel and more pouches spilled onto the floor. It scrambled back and pointed an accusing claw at him. “That’s my dinner! Give it back!”

Felix screeched again and spread his wings, protecting his kill. The rat’s paws went up, held out like a placating human.

“Okay, okay. Bloody law of the jungle outside the lab. I was lookin’ forward to that tuna fish.” He huffed and eyed Mateo, who was running in circles and honking. “Don’t take too long, mate. It’s gettin’ dark. You’re not the only predator in this zoo, and the humans left most of the cages open.”

---

Felix was finishing off the third tuna fish pouch when Mateo finally calmed down. The flamingo’s mood shift wasn’t gradual. More like flipping a switch from panicked to pretentious. He waddled up to the rat and craned his neck downward.

<Do you know where the humans went, rato?>

The rat’s muzzle split in a furry grin that revealed sharp teeth. “They ran away. The Rat War pushed ‘em outta Chicago!” He spread his paws. “This is our land now. Welcome to Ratatopia!”

<Rat…atopia?>

“Yeah. All us rats with neural implants got organized, escaped, and started a war against humanity!” His beady eyes sparkled. “And we’re winning!”

<But humans are our friends.> Mateo’s phony Spanish accent slipped, and he shifted from foot to foot, looking distressed.

Felix gulped the last of the tuna and ruffled his feathers. <Get it through your thick skull, Mateo. No more humans. We’re on our own.>

“As it should be, mate!” The rat exuded self-satisfaction. “I’m Bruiser. Got brought over from McCartney Labs in London for the chipping experiments. Stayed for the war.” He chuckled. “What’s yer story?”

Given an opportunity to talk about himself, Mateo’s mood brightened. <I am Mateo, Chilean flamingo of impeccable breeding. The savage who assaulted you is Felix.>

Felix prodded at the pouch, digging out scraps. <We’re neurally implanted, too. But for some reason, the humans deemed our experiments a failure and dumped us here for ‘reintegration.’ Speaking of which…> Hunger muted, Felix turned and hopped through the open door.

Fresh air that smelled of new spring growth and freedom washed over him, despite the fenced enclosures and low buildings. A shiver shook Felix and he gazed up at puffy pink clouds in a deep blue sky.

Sunset. A predator’s favorite time. Starlings susurrated overhead, sending a pang of longing through his chest. He missed soaring. He missed…so many things.

It had been over a year since the humans had taken him. His mate probably thought him dead. He still dreamed of Her, though his dreams had changed since he’d been chipped. Things had names now. Birds shouldn’t assign names to things. Especially not human names. Things had scents. Sounds. Textures.

That was how he remembered Her. Golden eyes and a piercing cry overlaid with the wild smell of sunshine on Her feathers.

Someday he’d soar again. He would find Her.

Mateo pushed through the door, breaking Felix’s reverie. The flamingo honked excitedly then bolted down the sidewalk. Spindly legs made his pink body waddle like a goose while his head stayed perfectly level.

<Where are you going?> Felix asked.

<Family! I smell flamingos!>

Bruiser shot out of the Lisle Quarantine Center after Mateo. “Hold on, mate! Not that way! You tryin’ ta get eaten?” Bruiser bounded after the flamingo and yelled over his shoulder. “Come on, Felix!”

Felix ignored the rat and leapt into the air. He needed to fly! To return home! He pumped his wings, struggled, but clipped feathers refused to gain lift. He hit the ground–hard–and screeched at the top of his lungs.

He was grounded. The feathers would grow back, eventually, but until then–

A terrified honk from Mateo and a cat’s warbling snarl snapped Felix’s gaze to the now-empty sidewalk. A shiver crawled down his spine. Mateo wouldn’t last one day in the wild.

Felix bounded down the sidewalk with an awkward hopping, flapping motion. He rounded a corner and froze.

A gray lynx crouched on the trail, its back to Felix. It had thick paws, black-tufted ears, and a twitching tail. Mateo and Bruiser stood frozen before it, backed against one of those small flatbed carts that humans drove around parks. The lynx stalked forward.

Felix gave his hunting screech and the lynx’s head snapped around. He flapped as hard as possible and arced over the cat’s head. It swatted at him but didn’t leap. He landed between it and the others, spread his wings, and screeched again. <Mine!>

The lynx growled, ears back, hackles rising.

There were scrambling sounds behind Felix. “Into the driver’s seat, stretch! I’m steering!” Felix half-turned his head, keeping one eye on the lynx, which lashed its bushy tail.

Bruiser and Mateo were in the cart. The flamingo looked uncomfortable in the driver’s seat, sitting sideways to let one spindly leg dangle under the dash. Bruiser stood by the pedals, placing Mateo’s foot. “Push here to go, here to stop. Oh, man, I’ve always wanted to drive one o’ these!”

Mateo craned his head upside down to look at Bruiser. <I don’t understand.> Neither did Felix, but he had bigger problems.

The lynx stalked forward, each step a precise announcement of inevitable death. Felix screeched again, wingspan blocking the sidewalk, and refused to step back. The cat would leap the second he showed fear or weakness.

“Where’s the…ah ha!” There was a click and then the cart leapt forward. Bruiser jumped to the steering wheel and yelled, “Come on Felix, let’s ride!”

The cart sped away. Felix leapt into the sky and the cat lunged for him. It missed and he flapped furiously after the weaving cart. His wings burned with effort and he tumbled downward.

He hit the flatbed with a thump, talons scrambling for traction. They caught an attached metal ring. He flapped his wings for balance. Bruiser cheered, and the cart swerved violently forward. Felix looked back.

The lynx bounded after them.

<Faster! It’s gaining!> Felix’s breath came fast, his heart beating like it would burst out of his chest.

“More ‘go’ pedal, stretch!” Bruiser clung to the wheel with all four paws, shifting his weight left and right to steer.

<It’s Mateo!> The flamingo gave an indignant honk, and the cart skidded to a stop. The lynx bounced off the rear bumper and tumbled aside.

“Wrong pedal!” Bruiser slapped at Mateo’s neck. The flamingo dodged and pecked the rat’s head. “Ow!”

The cat surged to its feet, shook its head, and snarled. Its warbling hunting cry filled Felix with adrenaline. He needed to fly!

<Go-go-go!> he screamed, wings flapping uselessly as he clutched the metal ring.

The cart jumped forward then skidded around a corner and bumped into the grass. Felix held on but slammed onto his side. Stars danced in his vision and he gasped for breath.

<Where’d you learn to drive, you maniac?>

Bruiser threw a furry grin over his shoulder, leaned left, wove them through a flower bed, then back onto the sidewalk. “Top Gear reruns on BBC! Pedal to the metal!”

<It is!> Mateo honked.

They passed through the zoo’s north gate, lynx loping right behind them. It leapt with a snarl and slammed into Felix. He screeched, scratched, and pecked with all his might. They rolled into Mateo’s seat in a snarling tangle of claws and talons. Felix bit an ear, tore clean through it, and the cat caught his wing in powerful jaws.

“Hold oooooooon!” The cart hit a bump, leapt into the air, then dropped out from under them. The lynx shrieked, releasing Felix, and they tumbled downward.

The splash took Felix completely by surprise. Murky water enveloped him, dark and heavy. His talons caught something soft and he latched onto it. Fur. The body beneath him jerked aside. Too powerful for Bruiser. The lynx. Felix thrust his head forward, bit deep, and tore. Again. And again. He savaged flesh with his talons. Blood filled the water before he broke the surface and let go.

Felix gasped for air, beak open wide. How did ducks do this? He started to sink again and spread his wings across the water. The lynx surfaced several yards away and swam for the shore. Mateo floated serenely beside Felix, head high. Bruiser paddled in a circle and yelled at the lynx.

“That’s right! You better run, ya plonker!” Bruiser stopped swimming long enough to shake a fist. The lynx limped from the water, blood streaming down its right shoulder. It eyed them and mewled before padding back to the zoo.

---

Felix paddled with a new appreciation for waterfowl. Mateo drifted past, head cocked to the side.

<Do you need help?>

Felix huffed, almost said no, but swallowed his pride. He cawed gently. <Yes. Por favor.>

Mateo’s head bobbed in a pleased manner. <Grab my tail feathers and I’ll drag you to the flock.>

<Flock?>

Bruiser yelled as he paddled furiously toward the far shore. “Are ya blind? There must be a hundred of the pink buggers!”

Felix blinked and looked around. Indeed, near the pond’s far end was a flock of flamingos. Bright pink mottled with white against the shore’s cascade of green. He bit gently onto Mateo’s tail feathers and allowed himself to be dragged across the pond.

They soon reached the flock, who honked and clucked like geese. Heads twitched from side to side in unison. How did they do that? These birds weren’t microchipped, so Felix couldn’t speak to them mind-to-mind, but he understood their body language. Cautious of him but welcoming of Mateo.

Bruiser was another matter. He climbed onto the muddy nesting ground and the nearest flamingos hissed at him.

The drenched rat held up both hands. “Not lookin’ for a fight, pinkie. Just wanted distance from that soggy moggy tryin’ to eat us.”

Felix pulled himself onto the mud and shook his wings. Water flew. <Thank you, Bruiser. You saved us with that cart.>

“Well, saved meself. You was just an added bonus.” His tone was light, joking.

<I…I’m sorry I tried to eat you.>

“No worries, mate! Law of the jungle. Speakin’ of which, I gotta run. There’s a war on, and I don’t wanna miss it!” The rat plodded through the flamingos, who split to give him a wide berth.

Felix shook himself again–he was soaked!–and Mateo honked at him, all pretense of a Spanish accent gone from his chip-transmission. <You placed yourself in danger. For me. Why?>

Felix looked for somewhere dry to stand. He failed and ruffled his feathers. <Couldn’t let you die in your first five minutes of freedom.>

<Yes, well. Flamingos are not without gratitude. You are one of us now. Welcome to the family, mi hermano!> He honked, and the flock joined in, bobbing their heads excitedly.

<Wait, what?>

<You are an honorary flamingo, Felix. Please, join our flock!>

Felix almost said no. Red-tailed hawks were solitary creatures. They mated for life, but the idea of a flock was anathema. Yet Mateo’s offer touched him. It rang of…friendship.

<Okay. But only until my feathers grow back. And don’t expect me to strut around all pretentious-like! Hawks don’t strut.>

<Perhaps. We shall see.>

Felix spied an oak tree on the shore and plodded through the mud. He walked as tall as possible, trying to keep his feathers clean. It was not a strut, merely practical.

The sky darkened and the Flamingos settled in for the night, standing one-legged with their beaks tucked under a wing. Felix perched on a high oak branch and gazed northward. A hawk’s piercing cry echoed through the night. It wasn’t Her, but it stirred the longing in Felix’s soul. He gave a soft chirp in reply.

He would find Her again. In time. But for now, he had a family–a crazy family to be sure–that accepted him. This was a safe place, among friends, where he could rest and recover.

And then he would soar!

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Host Commentary

Once again, that was Felix and the Flamingo, by David Hankins.

I’ve been invested in intelligent lab animal stories since the old Pinky and the Brain cartoon, and this story continues in that grand tradition in the best way. While we glimpse the ripples of an apocalypse at the edges of Felix’s frustrating situation, we stay tightly focused on his particular problems and how he, and his irritating flamingo companion, navigate their brave new world. Most importantly, I liked how in the end, the solution was not for Felix to fly off on his own, but to join forces with other affected animals; we’re all stronger when we work together, and in the wake of apocalypse, it’s the only way we’re going to survive. Sometimes it takes seeing such truths through unexpected eyes to really bring them home, wherever home may end up being, whether an actual place or a found family happy to add you to their flock.

Escape Pod is part of the Escape Artists Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit, and this episode is distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International license. Don’t change it. Don’t sell it. Please do share it.

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Our opening and closing music is by daikaiju at daikaiju.org.

And our closing quotation this week is from Terry Pratchett, who said, “Cats will amusingly tolerate humans only until someone comes up with a tin opener that can be operated with a paw.”

Thanks for joining us, and may your escape pod be fully stocked with stories.