I
go by the name of Birriboo the squirrel. My domus lies in the woodland realms,
within the heart of Mount Filani, one of the many ranges in the island of
Cyprus. Like many of the other forest animals, I study under the tutelage of
Simoon the owl, the wisest and most revered of all the beasts of Filani. He
took me under his wing and taught me all about the different species of the
world, from the lowly but hard-working ant to the majesty of the whales in
oceans far away. Of all the animals of the kingdom, the ones that confuse me the
most are human beings. Simoon had placed me in charge of cataloguing their
activities on the island of Cyprus, so as we can better understand their
complex mating rituals, habitual customs, and natural behaviours, and this was
an arduous task indeed. They are not simple animals like us forest creatures;
they choose to complicate even their most simplest of practices with rules,
norms and other frivolities that make no sense to us straightforward creatures
of mother earth.
These
duties usually require of me to monitor the activities of certain barbarian
males of the genus humanus, who annually gather in the Filani grove for their
savage rituals and games. These include eating, drinking of the magic elixir
they call alcohol, and dancing amongst other more outrageous practices too
unnerving to mention here. But their practices are simple and straightforward
and theirs is another story. It seems I have wandered off the telling of this
one.
It
all begins with an angry owl waving a tattered tree-bark record in the faces of
his students, cursing us for our pathetic idleness. The record holds the
entries of the Cyprius Humana. The cause of his hooting temper is due to
the last entry being over 100 years old! Woe is me! For he has pointed his
ruffled feathers at me, declaring that I must renew the outdated record with a
report of the species of modern times! I tried to scurry away silently, hoping
the ominous task would be instead given to another unfortunate such as Harry
the Weasel, but I was not to be so lucky. The owl’s sharp eyes spotted my
failed attempt at escape, and I suffered a verbal abusing that I haven’t
endured since Herbert the Hyena came to visit.
Herein follows Birriboo’s account of
the Cyprius Humana in the habitat of a
Cafeteria...
Complete
with quill, ink and parchment, I trudged down the mountain into the hub of
civilization in search of fine samples to study. It was not long before I found
a ‘Cafeteria’, where a host of humans were collected all together and chatting
amongst one another akin to a flock of flamingos I once saw. I’ve heard of
these ‘cafeterias’ before, social gatherings where eating and drinking takes
place freely, with hardly any of that fighting-for-morsels attitude that separates
them from us animals. Oh how marvellously civilized the humans have become! I
spied a group of females segregated from the rest of the clan and set about
recording their appearance and behaviour...
The first item of interest that I
took note of, me being a squirrel and all, was the selection of footwear they
chose to wear. The tip, the heel, or both were elongated and sharp enough to be
used as a deadly weapon. Did the females need them to fend of merciless predators
and over eager suitors, or is this a tool of convenience used to drill holes in
trees for grubs and pick out tasty cockroaches hiding in corners? They
certainly did not look comfortable enough to walk in, as I heard from others is
the whole purpose of shoes in the first place. I cringed at the thought of
trying to cram my dainty little squirrel feet into what plainly looked like a
cruel torture device, and moved on with my observations.
My sight veered towards their arms,
and I nearly dropped my ink in astonishment. Each hand now sported some form of
unnatural extension, as if evolution took a turn for the worse on these poor unfortunates.
The end of one hand possessed a minute but bright screen that they continuously
stared into and numerous labelled buttons which they punched with their thumbs
at such alarmingly super human speed that I thought perhaps they were being fuelled
by some exterior adrenalin sac. They even appeared to accomplish this task
while performing other activities at the same time. After being entranced by
this repetitive act, which was occurring every few moments, I have come to the
conclusion that they have developed some sort of telepathic-neuron-connection
to this device, such that they will not be able to function without it and it
without them.
Their other hand had also evolved,
growing a container-like vessel that they seem to use for drinking this
brownish liquid out of. I managed to overhear some of the other creatures
talking of this life-giving drink. They call it ‘coffee’ and it is now required
for humans to function biologically. Once they awaken in the morning of each
day, they cannot act within their full capacity until they have consumed vast
quantities of this concoction. This intake they repeat at various intervals during
the day, leading me to believe that coffee will eventually replace water in the
future as the giver of life for this race. I pondered on whether they had also
adjusted their watering holes to contain coffee. I made a note to look for one
later on.
After a moment of perplexity and bad
angles, (I am a squirrel after all), I realized they were merely holding onto
these devices, and had in fact not grown
or grafted them into their hands. They held on to them and protected them so
dearly that I initially thought they were permanent fixtures of their bodies.
Silly squirrel indeed!
On conducting a quick scan of the
females around the area, I found remarkably that some of them had their hair dyed
with various colours and shades. All manners of red, blue, green and other
tones were apparent in abundance. I could not for the life of me comprehend how
this will help them survive in the wild. They have painted themselves an easy
target to every hungry predator in the vicinity, and I shifted my eyes warily,
fearing one to be nearby from all this easy prey. I pondered upon whether it
was some form of practice for attracting the males, as I noticed some of them
also furnished colourful hair, akin to the colourful and exotic feathers of the
birds of paradise. My final conclusion was that the females require some form
of identification amongst one another for establishing status and hierarchy
rights within each of their clans, so that they each know their place amongst
the other females.
The greatest of all changes that I
hesitantly scribe since the last log 100 years ago is of the increasingly
complex mating rituals undertaken by the males and females in attracting the
opposite gender of their species. It seems that the eyes of human beings are
perpetually on the lookout for a suitable partner, and all potential mates
within line of sight are immediately scrutinized and filtered out under their
expert-like surveillance. Those who are deemed of weak character, poor status,
or possessing shoddy mounts are eliminated from their list, until a select few
are judged acceptable to mate with. From the female’s side, the chosen males
are leered at until their attention is begotten, from which point the female
would partake in certain flirtatious acts, such as hair flipping, fake laughter
and looking away if eye contact is established. The chosen one may or may not
approach the female, depending on his prowess and bravery. If he does dare, and
here is where the complexity begins, the female will swiftly feign disinterest,
rolling her eyes and shattering his confidence with a wave of her hand. The
male may then, if he is stubborn and patient enough, court the female until she
gives in. Who knows how long that actually takes, im certainly not planning to
stick around and find out.This is a mere generalization of the process of
course, the truth being that the intricacy of the complex network of habits,
rituals and customs involved within the courting rights are enough to make my
head spin, me being a squirrel and all.
There are countless more entries
that need inscribing, from the human dieting habits to choice of clothing, but
sadly I have run out of parchment and patience, which is my signal for
returning to mount Filani. Hopefully, the owl is happy with my account of the Cyprius
Humana, as I write only what I see, and not what I understand on why they have
evolved in such a manner, me being a squirrel and all…
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