🎧 Prefer to listen? [Hear Chapter 2 – Touchdown in audio form]
The airplane starts to land, and Big Al clings on tight for the bumpy ride. With some swoops, a jolt and a skid, it comes to a stop on a grassy stretch. A few houses are on one side, and a road on the other. He looks around for a place to hide, sees a ditch by the road and scurries as fast as his short legs can go. He crawls in amongst the overgrown grass, water crickets and red-wing blackbirds that freeze at his menacing yellow glare. A little bit of stinky water at the bottom turns him into a partially submerged log, just like home. Contented swampy bubbles gurgle and pop. Strange and delicious aromas filter into his wide nostrils, which flare at the newness.
Mmm…this is already smelling better…
Behind him, across the grass airstrip, voices emerge from the opposite side of the airplane to talk to another who approaches.
Two little ones greet her.
“Welcome home!” she says to the kids before speaking to the last person who emerges. “How was the journey?”
Big Al listens in the cool water, quietly taking in his surroundings.
“Eventful,” says the man. “The exhaust manifold went, and we had to touch down in Stinkwater Marsh. That place stinks. Plane flew heavy after. Needs gas now.” He takes a breath. “Man, I think that stink followed us home.”
“That means Dad has to fly off for gas in Ankerton,” says the girl.
“And I have to leave right away, before it gets much later.”
“Shall I keep dinner warm?”
“No, it’ll be late. I’ll just stay over and fly back in the morning. You know I don’t like nighttime flying.”
“Bye-bye Daddy. I’ll miss you!” says Clayton.
“Bye Dad.”
“So soon? I was looking forwards to dinner.”
“Yeah, me too.”
After a bit the thundering of the motor starts back up, and Big Al winces as the airplane takes off.
Big Al scuffs up carefully to the edge of the ditch and sees people across the airfield standing and waving as the airplane leaves. He remembers the Owl said in the Big City there were People. They stand differently than him.
Big Al realizes that if he wants to go to Big City, he must learn to stand up like that, but isn’t sure how. He will need to be able to blend in like he is in the ditch right now. He crawls back down into the ditch to think about this for a while.
While he is lying there amongst the reeds and grass, something lands in front of him in the ditch to nibble at a water cricket. It resembles a Heron, but smells different.
Big Al sees the bird standing there on two legs with its back to him, and decides to try to mimic it.
Slowly, he begins to rise. Ditch water drips from his snout, and a frog lopes off his head with a splash. The disturbance causes the bird to turn around. Its eyes widen in fear and shock as the crocodile rises up higher than it stands. It knows its life is very close to the end. Big Al’s predatory yellow stare fixes the bird in place.
After a moment the bird realizes it’s still alive, blinks a few times and looks around.
“Are…are you going to ee…eeee….eeee…..eat me?” it asks in a very small and scared voice.
“Not if bird stay there. Big Al practice standing on two legs. Move and I eat. Stand still.”
The bird locks its legs and doesn’t move an inch. The Crocodile tilts a little to the left at first, and then a little to the right. He tilts forwards but uses his tail to balance that out. His hind legs begin to burn and he has to lie back down.
“Who are you?” asks Big Al, curious.
“Carney the Crane,” says the Crane very quickly.
“Stay. Or I eat.”
The Crane nods quickly, still very scared and rather confused. After a few minutes, Big Al stands up again. He repeats this until he is comfortable standing.
Carney stiffens, blinking rapidly. He stares off into the distance singing a little tune to keep from panicking.
“I'm still standin' better than I ever did. Lookin' like a true survivor, feelin' like a little kid.”
But after a while, he can’t help himself.
“Uh. Ah. Oh. This…this…. This may be a stupid question, and…and maybe I shouldn’t say anything at all. B… but I’m still standing after all this, so I just have to ask—”
He swallows.
“Why is a Crocodile trying to learn how to stand up? It seems…really different.”
Big Al pauses for a half-second, everything blank at first. He liked the tune. Then:
Crane know too much.
Big Al’s stomach-led response is a chomp. A moment later he burps some white feathers.
Then, for the first time he takes his first two-legged step only to thud against the ditch. Big Al mutters, and crawls out of the ditch on his belly. The Crane was a small appetizer, and he’s got a full meal on his mind.
On the other side of the road is a field with a barbed-wire fence, two buffalo grazing peacefully. He slithers under the fence. The smaller one would still make a decent feast. He lies still, and very slowly, begins to crawl across the prairie to the buffalo. He doesn’t get very far before they wander farther away.
It’s late, and Big Al can feel empty space in his crocodile belly. He’s hungry. He inches closer only for the Buffalo to wander further away.
Can they see me? he wonders. He’s never had trouble sneaking up on animals before. He inches forward once more. They drift to nibble farther away, again. And again.
Big Al is getting frustrated. He doesn’t understand. They’re not supposed to notice. He’s invisible, right?
His stomach finally lifts him up from the slow crawl and he charges—like the hungry crocodile he is.
Almost immediately the larger Buffalo begins running towards him. This isn’t something Big Al has ever seen. An animal charging toward him? That means dinner, and the bigger the better.
KERLUMPKERLUMP…her hooves rattle across the field towards him, increasing in speed and ferocity.
But when the Buffalo gets close, she feints left, then circles fast behind him to the right. Before he can react, she’s behind him, closing in from the rear.
“You were coming to eat my little one, weren’t you!” cries the Mama Buffalo, fury blazing in her eyes.
“Yum. What does Buffalo taste like?” asks Big Al. He blinks.
Wait. Why is dinner yelling?
“You were! Get off my field. Get out now!” The big Mama Buffalo stands tall, so Big Al rises on his legs to stand up, trying his new technique to throw her off.
She doesn’t stop.
She charges in with a bellow, and with one mighty toss of her head—WHAM! —Big Al goes flying, snout over tail like a squirrel sneezing.
This landing? Not smooth at all. His head smacks a rock in the dirt, and Big Al’s vision blurs.
Then her hooves come down, slamming his back paws into the mud over and over until they bleed.
“Don’t you EVER, EVER come after a little one. EVER. GET OFF MY FIELD YOU GREEN SCALEY MONSTER.”
Big Al blinks. Slow.
Familiar…
He remembers Ellie the Elephant. She’d just mashed his tail.
This time? His head throbs, his back aches, his tail feels like a hoof-shaped crocodile quesadilla—and his paws are bleeding.
His stomach growls, but the grumble from his throat is louder.
Too much effort. Croc this.
Hungry, hurting and humiliated, Big Al slinks away.
“And don’t come back!” stomps Mama Buffalo as she watches him leave.
Returning to the ditch, he nestles into the reeds and stinky water that swirls around him as if it were home.
Buffalo tough like Elephant, thinks his woozy head as he falls asleep.
Best not to try to eat little ones.
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Just one offer at the end — when the full book is ready.🎧 Prefer to listen? [Hear Chapter 2 – Touchdown in audio form]
Chapter 3 text drops August 2
🎧 The voice version is now live!