He likes exploring new worlds; he wouldn’t do it if he didn’t. But it isn’t without danger.
He leads the scientists through the forest. The immense pillars of the trees form a cathedral of green light which shades them from the worst of the afternoon sun. Each trunk would easily take a person two minutes to walk around their circumference. The scientists tell him that the thirsty roots extend for a kilometre underground, which explains why they have grown so far apart from one another, and why only ground ferns and grasses cover the space between.
They pause for a moment to admire the fjord that borders the forest. Monumental fingers of white rock jut out of the calm waters. Flocks of avians circle above their nesting grounds on the green-mottled cliff faces.
He and the scientists watch as some of these avians, which are more reptilian in appearance, dart down into the water to scoop up unlucky amphibians that form colourful shoals in the temperate waters.
A bulge in the water makes them all step back. A giant fish leaps from the water, a squawking avian caught in its whiskered jaws. It disappears below the surface with an almighty splash and in the following moments of uneasy quiet he thinks about how that mouth could easily swallow two humans whole.
‘Is that the apex you mentioned?’ asks one of the scientists when their nerves recover.
‘No,’ he says, eyeing the water. ‘That would be the crocodiles.’
Wherever he goes, it's always the crocodiles.
Paddy Dobson
1st August 2022