Written in 2017 as a home assignment for the local writers’ group, I based this fictional story on my watching pandacams in different locations, though mostly the zoos in Washington and London. Pandas are fascinating animals, very intelligent and dextrous, and I hope my few paragraphs below does them all justice.
An audio version of this story is available via:
And They Went off in Every Direction
A Look into the Future
My name is Chi Chi Panda, and I was named after the very first giant panda to live at London Zoo. I moved from a big zoo in the West, arriving here in 2017, when I was three and a half. I was accompanied on the flight by one of the vets and one of the keepers, and quite enjoyed it – they spoiled me with treats to eat and left a few when they went home. I missed them so much at first, but all these years later I am happy and content but still remember them. I didn’t like my early days here because I was homesick and couldn’t understand the language. I missed so much from back home and thought I would just be here for a short while, but that wasn’t to be. I have been lucky though as some of the keepers and vets I knew in my old life come over here occasionally to learn more about caring for pandas. They always visit me but each time I realise I have forgotten much of the English I used to know so well. After a short while it comes back to me, so I am still bilingual, and of course I speak our panda language fluently!
Now, nearly 13 years on, I am completely settled here. I soon began to learn the meaning of the strange-sounding words they spoke and was rewarded when I responded to them. I also got used to the slightly different bamboo and before long was chomping away on it all, along with the carrots. The first year or so was nearly all fun, in between feeling homesick. I was allowed to continue with my hobby of painting – in fact, still am – and really enjoy it but do wish it wasn’t quite so noisy. Surely, they don’t have to hand me the brush through the metal fence and then let me paint with it clanging against the barrier. If they just gave me the brush, the paint pots and the canvas, I could carry on quietly in my own room without bothering anyone. Oh well!
However, I am digressing. After a year or so, I learned I was part of the panda breeding programme. Well, I thought I was going to be on television, in a programme devoted entirely to pandas. How wrong I was! The programme entailed being introduced to a male panda of similar age to me. He wanted to play with me and walked round me and made strange sounds, then he changed the rules of the game and tried to climb on top of me. I soon put paid to that – I bucked him off, he somersaulted down the hill and I rushed up the nearest tree. It took them hours to get me down and reminded me of the times I would spend up the trees in my old home. I used to love looking at people, the scenery and, as it got dark, the lights all around. Anyway, I thought I’d got rid of that problem of this playful young panda boy, but the next day he was back, so I ran inside. Luckily, he didn’t follow me. The day after that I was taken to the panda hospital, and all I remember is being there, then waking up in my den. The vets kept talking about cubs, goodness knows why, but later that year there were a few around who looked very cute. I was glad I didn’t have to look after any though, they seemed like hard work.
A year later, I met the same male panda, An An. He had been named after the panda who lived to the age of 35 making him the oldest in the care of humans. This time he looked more interesting, and I agreed to play with him and let him climb on me. It was fun then, and I didn’t even think about going up the tree. I met him again over the next couple of days, and we played the same game, but that was it. I had another trip to the hospital, but then life returned to normal – or did it? I was feeling different and had a few checks by vets with blood tests and something they called a scan and not too long after that something amazing happened – I gave birth to a cub. He was beautiful, even without the black and white panda fur, and I fed and cuddled him and even sang to him. Every so often one of the keepers would take him away and give me some time to myself to eat, then he’d be brought back, and his feeding routine would start again. This went on for months and in that time he got his fur coat, was given the name Xiang Xiang at 100 days old, in memory of another panda, and began walking, then climbing, then eating bamboo. He had become almost fully independent by the time he was 18 months and was given his own room near mine, so I could still see him most days and hear him and answer when he called to me.
Soon after this, my male suitor was brought along to visit me, so between him and another hospital procedure – yes, you’ve guessed it – I was a second-time mum, on that occasion to twin girls. As there were two cubs, the staff would alternate them throughout the first three months, which meant that I had to feed, cuddle and sing to only one at a time. I got the impression they thought I hadn’t noticed, but I knew all along and let them help me to look after them, as it was a bit much to cope with two at once in the early days. However, after they had been named (Jia Jia and Su Lin – the same as other pandas born before them), I was allowed to have both together so we were a nice little family, though I couldn’t help noticing that Dad was ominously absent – again!
And so it went on, and over the years I have become a mum to eight cubs, including three sets of twins – 2019 (one boy), 2021 (twin girls), 2023 (twin boys), 2026 (one girl) and this year 2029 (twins – one girl, one boy). Some of my babies have grown up and moved to zoos in other countries, while others remain here. My eldest Xiang Xiang left in 2023 and lives somewhere over the ocean. I often think of him and of my lovely mother who cared for me so well till I was about 18 months old and given my own suite of rooms, and she went on to have two more cubs that year. My father had nothing to do with me, rather like the father of my children. It seems to be the way of life for males – they get all the fun and then leave us females to raise the family, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, I feel sorry for the dads as they miss out on seeing their children growing and developing panda skills, not to mention giving and receiving cub love. It’s a wonderful experience with memories to treasure.
Overall it is a good life here, and the aim is for our children to help increase the population of pandas, in zoos around the world and in the wild. I have mixed feelings about it all – we watch them grow, and then they go off in every direction.
© Chasqui Penguin, 2023
Twitter: @ChasquiPenguin
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