The Zoo at the Edge of the World by Eric Kahn Gale Page A

Kenj.” I sat up. “I know I’m not making the same sounds as you. You’re a monkey making monkey sounds. Tuskus is a boar who makes boar sounds, and the Jaguar makes jaguar sounds.”
    â€œYes.” Kenji looked at me skeptically. “That is good. You figured that out.”
    â€œI know I’m stating the obvious,” I said. “But how can all these different animals, who make all these different sounds, be understandable to me now? And how can you all understand each other?”
    Kenji squinted her eyes and stroked her mustache thoughtfully. After a pause, she offered, “Kenji doesn’t know. How come humans can’t understand what anybody says?”
    I leaned back on the bed. Maybe that was the better question.
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    It was time to take this new power on a test run. I asked Kenji to come with me on my chores around the zoo and help me get reacquainted with our animals.
    Our first stop was the Blue Birdcage, an enclosure eleven yards high and about four times as wide. Three sides were made of thin bars that made viewing the birds easier, and there was a sturdy brick wall at the back.
    The Blue Birdcage is one of my favorite parts of the zoo. Our resident storyteller and artist, Heppa, painted an enormous mural across the wall. It is a jungle scene, complete with vines, trees, shrubs, fallen logs, flowers, and insects all crowding one another. But the twenty or so birds that call it home tend to add their own kind of paint to the mural, so Kenji and I went in with a mop.
    As soon as I closed the door behind me, our two rainbow toucans, Eddo and Bill, flew down from their ropes hanging overhead.
    â€œAh! It’s him!” Bill said to Eddo.
    â€œThe boy-who-talks-to-jaguars!” Eddo said to Bill.
    â€œHow exciting!” they both said together. Each cocked his head side to side, looking at me expectantly.
    I felt nervous and turned to Kenji. “What do you say to a toucan?” I asked her.
    â€œSay good morning!” Kenji threw up her arms and turned to Eddo and Bill. “He’s just learned how to talk yesterday, so you gotta give him a little time.”
    â€œI didn’t just learn how to talk yesterday,” I said, annoyed. “I just learned to talk to animals yesterday!”
    â€œSo who were you talking to before?” Eddo asked.
    â€œOther people,” I said, but then thought about it. “Well, no, I didn’t really do much of that either.”
    â€œLike I said,” Kenji went on. “Yesterday.”
    â€œWell, that’s just wonderful,” Bill squawked.
    â€œYes, excellent.” Eddo echoed.
    â€œLook-it! Look-it! Look-it!” a little bird called from the corner of the cage. It was Tappet, our new bird of paradise. He was prancing violently about and making an awful racket.
    â€œI despise that creature.” Bill flapped his colored wings angrily.
    â€œHate him!” Eddo cawed.
    â€œYeah,” I said to the toucans. “What’s his problem?”
    â€œHe doesn’t have a problem,” said Bill.
    â€œWe’re the ones with the problem,” said Eddo.
    â€œWe’ve got to listen to him,” they said together.
    Over in the corner, Tappet was gyrating and vibrating and making a terrible noise. He’d buried his face in his chest and stuck his wings straight out in the shape of a T. There was one brilliant blue dot on each wing, so he looked like a face with two giant eyes.
    I knew from watching other birds of paradise with my father that this was a mating dance. But even though there were two girl birds of paradise in the enclosure, he never paid attention to either of them. He’d been dancing and cawing like a madman ever since he arrived.
    Kenji and I looked at each other and nodded.
    â€œWhat are you doing there, Tappet?” I asked, walking over.
    The bird flipped his head off his chest and peered at me.
    â€œOh, Marlin.” He considered me for a