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Back The Ringmaster Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. The Ringmaster
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. Epilogue
  72. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  73. Copyright

‘Hello, old girl. Hi Cassie,’ I called out. Her body didn’t budge, but her eyes moved to find me. I didn’t know if it was the standard look for elephants, but to me she looked melancholy and horribly bored. Her only company were the miniature ponies corralled next door. The ankle strap and chain would have contributed. She was roped off to keep the public at a respectful distance, and there was an additional electric fence a metre within the rope one. I guessed it wouldn’t look good to zap kids who got a bit too close. I’d been told Cassie was generally amenable, but occasionally prone to grumpiness. Who wouldn’t be in her situation? I was a farm girl, and in New Zealand we were accustomed to having our animals roaming about freely in huge lush, green paddocks, grazing at will. We were proud of our wide-open spaces and free-range approach to animal welfare, so to see such a large, magnificent creature such as Cassie chained up rankled. Surely, someone could at least have cleaned up the poo. And to see the lions and monkeys claustrophobically caged made me straight-out angry. I could understand why the activists lobbied to free them. Mind you, freedom wasn’t always everything it was cracked up to be. Every time I walked through the halls of the Otago Museum I ventured up into the Animal Attic. I’d wander its Victorian-style displays of taxidermy heaven, and stop for a look at Sonia and Sultan, escapees from Circus Carlos during its notorious visit to Lawrence way back in the seventies. The lions’ bid for emancipation had stuffed them, literally. Thinking about these magnificent creatures brought to mind visions of African savannahs and herds of wild animals freely roaming the plains. The stark contrast of Cassie’s confinement was pitiful. If elephant body language was anything like human body language, she was as miserable as hell. How on earth could you cheer up an elephant? I made a point of doing my bit by coming for a chat whenever possible.

‘I’m off, back to the station now. You take care and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I’d try and have a word with her handler in the morning, see if I could give her a pat or a rub down. She was a tad bigger than Dotty, my old horse back home, and hopefully not as prone to farting, but I was sure I’d manage. Her handler was on the interview list first thing, which would give me a chance for a chat. I didn’t think Mr Bennett would mind. He’d think it meant I was warming to them all and was on his side. Not bloody likely.

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