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Our decision to luncheon downtown turned out to be a fortuitous one, for it
afforded us excellent opportunities to observe so many different mammals in
their natural habitat.
 While I waited for my friend I took notice of the Collared Pikas. For those
who aren't from these parts we should mention that this species is very
similar to the more common American Pika, also known as "the whistling hare"
(for obvious reasons), however, the collared ones have gray on their sides,
neck and shoulders. The two species are alike in that neither has a visible
tail, which seems peculiar at first, but after a time becomes unremarkable
and even somehow appropriate. There's no pretending: we don't associate
more than we have to with the Pikas. Still, their presence is an important
reminder of just who it is that makes the big wheels turn.
We weren't hungry when we met, so we decided to browse around and maybe do
some shopping. My friend wanted to go up to the new mall, so we slowly made
our way, dodging carefully out of the path of the young and speedy
Pronghorns. I find them annoying, but my friend always gets weak-kneed in
their presence. I tried to nudge her into going up to one of them. That
turned out to be a joke. Although they are easily spotted, they are almost
impossible to approach, as they can run up to seventy miles an our. How
about that! They like to gawk at you with their keen eyes, but you make the
first move and they're halfway down the block before you take two steps.
How different are the shaggy Bison loitering in front of the XXX
establishments. If you so much as make eye contact with them, watch out for
their short curved horns. With aggressive habits like theirs its no wonder
they can be used as natural ploughs to cultivate ground for new plants to
grow. We zipped past as quick as we could, neither of us in the mood for
gardening on that day.
We often forget that we share the city with the intellectual Bottlenosed Dol
phins. Apparently they are filled with curiosity. In the mall, a group of
them lingered around the fountain, smiling at the world and casting glances
at passers-by out of the corners of their eyes. We purposefully walked
right through the centre of their little school. Curiosity?! We didn't
inspire a single double-take. Once we were past my friend whispered that
they must be gay. If only that were the reason.
Enthralled by the new fashions they have for teeny-boppers these days, we
lost track of time and had to rush two blocks to make our reservation. What
an impression the waiter made on us when we got there. He was an adorable
Yellow-Bellied Marmot (Who said anything about dolphins?), somewhat out of
his element given the hard-packed floors and the low elevation of the
restaurant-rather too close to sea-level for his lifestyle. As he
approached with our Perrier water, he threw back his head and sneezed
something awful. "I'm so-so sorry," he said after he had recovered his
composure, "but the bub-bub-bles went up my nose." After he was out of
earshot, we laughed together. What a strange Yellow-Bellied Marmot! We
wondered how the other members of his species reacted to his waiting tables
at a ground floor restaurant downtown. We loved him, though, and if you
ever see him say hi from the Perrier-drinking gigglers. He should remember
us. We definitely remember him.
All in all our afternoon in the concrete jungle was a blast. If you have
been avoiding downtown lately, you shouldn't. Get thee hence directly. We
guarantee you'll be whacked out by with the crazy assortment of mammalian
life forms.
Tune in next week for our foray into suburbian mall-land. Until then: here,
little marmot . . . tch . tch . . . tch . . .
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