A lesson from 'The Penguin Lessons'
A lesson from 'The Penguin Lessons'
A short discussion about a passage from Tom Michell's 'The Penguin Lessons'.
This morning I finished listening to the audio book version of Tom Michell’s ‘The Penguin Lessons’ narrated by Bill Nigh, a wonderful little book about the adventures of an Englishman who succumbed to the pull of adventure in South America and unwittingly, though not unwillingly, adopted a penguin.
I highly recomend it if oyu’re looking for a nice fun read for the holidays or a gift from a reader in your life. But a particularly non-spoilery, well written, passage jumped out at me today that I wanted to share and talk about a little. So here it is.
On this particular day I stopped shortly before sunset with the foothills before the Andes just visible. I rode the bike about 500 yards away from the road and set up my tent between the tufts of pampas grass which grows at an extraordinary rate to reach heights of 6 ft or more.
I was well out of sight of the road and there was no likely hood of anyone finding me my chance. I had a small robust canvas tenet with a very modern feature, an integral ground sheet. There was no zips but the flaps tied with laces. I prepared my food over my little alcohol stove, wrote up my travel log, completed my check of the bike and its tires, and returned to bed. The weather was cool and I was snug inside my sleeping bag. The waning moon had not yet risen and so the evening was lit only by the stars. Otherwise everything was perfectly dark. I was tired and soon fell fast asleep.
Suddenly, I was wide awake. The moon in its last quarter had risen while I slept and was now above the horizon. Why had I woken with such a start? I listened. I could hear footsteps. Slow, stealthy, deliberate footsteps. No mistake. Very quiet, approaching the tent, and more than one set. I was straining with every fiber of my being to hear clues as to who was approaching.
My heart was beating fast and I kept my breathing quick and shallow to reduce the sound. There were other night noises too. Gentle zephyrs stirred the pampas grass and insects scurried. But there it was again, footfalls on the soft dry earth. I felt them as much as heard them. It was quite distinct. Unmistakable. Who could be creeping up on me and why? If their intention had been honourabe, surely they would have called out from a distance and declared themselves, not come creeping out like a thief in the night.
The noises were off to my tight hand side, of that I was certain. I unzipped my sleeping bag soundlessly. I could feel each tooth of the zip release as I eased it down and I could slip my legs out. I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, my mind was racing.
Two adversaries at least. What weapons did I have? All I had was a stout gaucho knife, and that was it. What use would that be if they were armed and intent on theft? They could shoot me, take what they wanted, and no one would ever discover my bones. In all probability, mine were the first human feet to touch that particular piece of earth. Such was the remoteness of the area.
The footfalls were getting closer now. They we plainly audible. As though persons unknown were creeping as stealthily as a fox on the dry turf. I was going to be fighting for my life at any moment. Surprise was my only chance. I must not be trapped inside the tent or I’d be helpless.
If I hadn’t been so stupid, if only I’d bought a gun I wouldn’t be in this mess now. I should never have been so reckless as to travel alone. I cursed my yearning for adventure. The footsteps were in within a few yards now, and all I had was one lousy knife and a feeble torch.
I planned my moves as I slipped the knots tying the flaps of the tent. I’d spring from the tent with the torch and knife and shout bang as loudly as I could. The surprise might possibly give me the advantage for long enough to get in the first strike. I was ready. And the footfalls were now at the head of the tent. I could hear breathing. 5 yards or less. It was now or never.
I sprang from the tent with the torch switched on, screaming, bang bang bang, as if my life depended on it. Which of course it did. My torch flashed in the moonlight as I threw myself at my assailants.
I was promptly dazzled by huge blinding white lights which blazed back at me form the darkness. It took but a second to comprehend that my torchlight was being reflected by the eyes of a terrified wandering cow that found itself being rudely attacked in the middle of the night by a wholly demented Englishman who was evidently intent on slaughter, or worse. With a frenzied below of panic the cow turned tail and fled. Its footsteps which again I felt as much as hear receded rapidly into the darkness.
Shaking with fear, laughter and the early morning chill, I followed the retreating miscreant bovine with the beam of the torch until I could see and hear her no more. I turned off the light and looked at the old crescent moon now giving some light to the clumps of pampas grass below.
Orion the celestial hunter was high in the sky of the southern hemisphere. He was towering above me with his sword held erect, ready to fight. As I stood there on the ground, mirroring his stance. ‘Who needs a gun when we have our swords’ he seemed to be asking.
Obviously he didn’t have the slightest clue just how frightened I had been, or how certain I was of being in mortal danger. Feeling very foolish I went back in my sleeping bag, resolving never to tell anyone just how close that cow had come to meeting its maker had I been carrying a gun.
If you read all that, I hoped you enjoyed it, I listened to it walking up a mountain I don’t know the name of and it made me chuckle. After listening though I paused the reading and thought about pacifism. The argument I read about the most these days for keeping firearms is for self defense. If you’re ever attacked by a guy with a gun, you need to have a gun yourself to have a chance.
Now there are a myriad of arguments around gun legislation that I’m not going to go into here but this little piece of story gives me one against the ownership of guns in a big way. As is alluded to, if he had had a gun, he would have shot the cow jumping out of the grass in his frightened panic without thinking. But I think it is written in such a way that it evokes the sense that you could transpose the scenario to pretty much anywhere else.
A gun makes killing easy, and if something is easy it is easy to do in a panic, without thinking. He would have shot a child just as easily if they had been creeping about, or a human creeping so as not to disturb. And, as you’ll know if you read the book, the narrative character is not a violent person or at all inclined towards violence or bad intentions. But anything can happen if you put a gun in the hands of the fearful.
Anyway, the main point of this post was the excerpt. You should read the book if you haven’t already.
- Rhys
