Paw Prints in the Snow
For Sasha Parris
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Zoological Society of London
Also by Sally Grindley
Chapter 1
‘What’s it like putting your arm up a cow’s bottom?’ Joe Brook asked.
‘Warm and squelchy.’ Binti, his mother, grinned.
‘You wouldn’t catch me doing it.’ Joe pulled a face.
He was standing on the bottom rung of some metal fencing inside a barn on Mike Downs’s farm. His mother was the other side of the fence, dressed in her green overalls and wellington boots, her breath coiling upwards like steam from a kettle as she leant against the cow’s rear. Joe watched as she pulled her arm out and removed the long plastic glove that covered most of it.
‘It’s not much fun for the cow, either,’ she said.
‘If I was going to be a vet, I’d only want to look after small animals like cats – or wild animals like elephants, because that would be cool.’
‘So you think some of what I do is cool then, Joe?’
Binti smiled as she opened the gate and left the cow’s enclosure. Most of her work was as an international wildlife vet, but when she was at home she sometimes helped out if called upon by other vets in the area.
‘You might have to put your arm up an elephant’s bottom too, you know,’ she said.
‘What for?’
‘To find out if a female is pregnant, or perhaps to check for digestive problems. Pretty much the same as for a cow.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind so much if it was an elephant, because they’re exciting and I’m half Tanzanian. Cows are boring.’
‘Not to a bull they’re not.’ Binti laughed as she scrubbed her hands. ‘Come on, it’s dinner time.’
‘I’m glad Dad does the cooking, knowing where your hands have just been.’ Joe smirked.
His mother cuffed him gently.
Joe shivered as they left the barn. It had become dark and very chilly. They headed back towards the farmhouse, where Mike Downs greeted them on the doorstep. Through a window Joe could see a fire burning brightly and wished he were sitting in front of it.
‘I can’t find anything abnormal, Mike,’ said Binti, ‘but I’ll send a stool sample off to the lab and see if they come up with anything. In the meantime, just keep an eye on her and give me a call if you’re at all worried.’
‘Thanks, Binti. I’ll try not to disturb your weekend any further.’
‘It’s all part of the job, Mike. We can’t expect animals to fall sick only on weekdays.’
‘Are you going to follow in your mum’s footsteps when you’re older, young man?’ The farmer winked at Joe.
‘My son doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, do you, Joe?’ Binti smiled. ‘Right, we ought to make a move. Bye, Mike.’
She linked her arm through Joe’s. They walked quickly over to their four-by-four and clambered in.
‘Turn the heating up, Mum,’ said Joe. ‘It’s got really cold.’
Binti switched on the engine and played with the dials. ‘You’ll have to get used to the cold where we’re going,’ she said, shooting him a glance to watch his reaction.
Joe looked puzzled. ‘We’re going home for dinner, aren’t we?’
‘But what about when you break up for half-term?’ Binti questioned.
Joe detected a whiff of excitement. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘We’re going to Antarctica!’
‘Not quite,’ said Binti. ‘But we are going to Russia.’
‘Russia?’ Joe wasn’t sure how to react. ‘Why are we going to Russia?’
‘I’m going to help train some of the young vets over there in how to anaesthetize tigers.’
‘But there aren’t any tigers in Russia, are there?’ said Joe. ‘I thought they were all in India and Sumatra.’
‘There are Amur tigers in Russia. They’re the biggest, and there are very few left.’
Russia had sounded like a boring place to spend half-term – until Binti mentioned tigers. Now Joe couldn’t think of anything better, even if it was going to be cold.
‘I’ll be working there for a month. You and Dad and Aesha will travel out with me and stay for eight days,’ his mother explained. ‘I know it’s not for long, but you need to be back for school.’
When they arrived back home, Joe ran into the house, where Foggy, their schnauzer, rushed to greet him.
‘Hey, Dad!’ he called. ‘Mum says we’re going to Russia!’
‘Does she indeed?’ Peter Brook replied from the kitchen, where he was stirring a large pot of chilli beef. ‘Just when I was thinking what a good idea it would be if there were the equivalent of boarding kennels for children for when their parents go away.’
‘Only for annoying little nine-year-old boys.’ A voice piped up from the next room. ‘Not for beautiful, intelligent daughters.’ Joe’s thirteen-year-old sister, Aesha, followed him into the kitchen. ‘I think that’s a great idea,’ she said. ‘Boys could be left there until they’re house-trained.’
‘You’re a fine one to talk about house-training, young lady,’ said Binti. ‘Your room’s like a pigsty.’
‘It’s lived in, that’s all.’ Aesha pouted.
‘You’ll be living out if it gets much worse,’ Binti replied.
‘At least my room hasn’t got piles of smelly socks and pants and soggy biscuits and crisps all over the floor,’ said Aesha.
‘It’s got piles of clothes and shoes and lipsticks and photos instead.’ Joe snorted.
‘I rest my case,’ said Peter. ‘It would be far more peaceful for your mother and I if we went to Russia on our own. I’ll speak to the doggery and see if they’ve got a spare compound.’
Chapter 2
Joe said his goodbyes to Foggy at Waggy Tails Boarding Kennels.
‘Poor Foggy,’ he bemoaned. ‘He’ll be lonely.’
‘He’ll be spoilt rotten,’ said Binti.
‘It seems cruel to go away and leave him,’ said Joe.
‘What, in a five-star boarding kennel in the lap of luxury? While we freeze our socks off, he’ll be toasting his paws in front of that great log fire. I’m tempted to stay here myself,’ Peter teased.
‘Talking of which, I hope we’ve got enough warm clothes with us,’ said Binti as Peter herded them back into the car.
‘I’ll look like a massive beluga whale in that coat you bought me,’ grumbled Aesha. ‘And I refuse to wear that silly hat.’
‘I’ll eat my hat if you manage not to wear yours!’ chuckled Peter as he turned on the ignition.
‘Don’t encourage her!’ Binti chided.
‘Don’t wear it, Aesha!’ shrieked Joe. ‘You’ll look more ridiculous than usual if you do.’
‘Ha, funny, ha.’ Aesha scowled.
Peter began to sing the lyrics from Winter Wonderland, adopting a deep, bass voice that they all tried to copy, chins pulled into their necks, their expressions like a bulldog’s, until Joe began to splutter from the effort. Aesha, blushing, adopted a sophisticated pose on spotting a group of boys in a car that was overtaking them.
‘Why did they change the name of Siberian tigers to Amur tigers?’ she asked, though she already knew the answer.
‘Amur is more accurate, since that’s the part of Russia where they’re found,’ Binti replied.
‘But that’s just like people,’ said Aesha rather scornfully.
‘People can wear different clothes depending on the weather,’ Joe persisted. ‘Tigers have fur coats wherever they live.’
‘They’d look funny if they were bald,’ chipped in Peter.
‘Like you, Dad,’ chuckled Aesha.
‘Joe’s making a good point,’ said Binti. ‘We would wear fur in the cold, but not in the heat.’
‘We wouldn’t wear fur at all,’ said Aesha, ‘unless it was fake.’
‘So tigers in India probably have very sweaty armpits,’ observed Peter. ‘Or should that be leg-pits?’
‘In fact,’ said Binti, ‘Amur tigers have thicker coats than Indian tigers, as well as a fold of fat running along their bellies to help keep them warm.’
‘Is that why Dad’s got a fold of fat running along his belly?’ chortled Joe.
‘I have not!’ Peter protested. ‘Bald I might be, but fat I am not.’
‘At least you’ll be warm.’ Binti turned to grin at him.
‘It’s a conspiracy,’ he huffed. ‘I knew I should’ve stayed at the doggery.’
‘What exactly are we supposed to do while we’re in Russia?’ asked Aesha.
‘I’ll be photographing anything that moves for a magazine article, and I expect you, my princess, will sit by the fire, filing your nails and looking beautiful,’ replied Peter.
‘I’m going to help Dad,’ said Joe proudly. His parents had bought him a camera for his birthday and he was keen to follow in his father’s footsteps.
‘I’m sure there’ll be plenty to keep you amused,’ Binti told Aesha.
Aesha frowned. She was excited about going to Russia, but she hated the cold even more than Joe did, and couldn’t imagine that there would be much to do in a place where it might snow even though it was only late October, and where the temperatures could drop well below zero.
‘I know about the tigers and the brown bear, but what other animals are there in eastern Russia?’ Joe asked.
‘There are more animals and birds than you would imagine,’ said Peter, ‘though many will be in hibernation. For starters, there’s the Himalayan black bear, the Siberian chipmunk, the Amur goral, Blakiston’s fish owl, scaly merganser, hooded crane, Japanese blue-and-yellow-rumped flycatcher, wild boar, Manchurian sika . . .’
‘Someone’s been doing their homework.’ Binti smiled, impressed.
‘Of course,’ said Peter.
‘What’s a goral?’ asked Joe.
‘It’s a sort of cross between a goat and an antelope,’ offered Binti.
When they arrived at the airport, Peter parked the car at a drop-off point and they all piled out. A valet was waiting, ready to take their car away to a long-stay car park.
‘Going somewhere hot?’ he asked.
Chapter 3
Joe kept himself occupied during the long flight. He watched two films, slept a bit, ate the rather overcooked meal that was put in front of him, jumped from one game on his console to another, played cards with his father and listened to music. He looked on with amusement as a large man across the aisle made himself comfortable, closed his eyes and began to snore. The man’s head dropped forward occasionally, swayed from side to side with the movement of the aircraft, then jolted backward again as if an electric shock had been administered.
‘He sounds like a walrus, doesn’t he, Dad?’ Joe whispered, nudging his father.
‘I have no personal experience of walruses, but if you say so then I’ll take your word for it,’ Peter whispered back.
At that moment the man snorted loudly and the magazine that had been resting on his belly fell to the floor. Joe bent down to pick it up and was upset to see that it had a photograph of a dead tiger on the cover. A man with a gun held high stood triumphantly by its head. Joe couldn’t read the caption because it was written in what he took to be Russian.
‘Give the gentleman his magazine back, Joe,’ Peter prompted.
Joe turned to see that the man had woken and was looking questioningly at him. He thrust the magazine towards him as if it were burning his fingers. The man said something gruffly, pushed the magazine into the seat pocket and closed his eyes again.
‘Did you see that, Dad?’ Joe whispered after a while. ‘There was a dead tiger on the cover of his magazine. I knew he looked a bit fishy.’
‘Walruses are,’ said Peter.
‘That’s not funny,’ Joe growled.
‘Having a dead tiger on your magazine doesn’t make you fishy,’ Peter whispered. ‘Your mum’s always surrounded by pictures of animals, dead and alive, and she’s not fishy – thank goodness. I never did see myself marrying a mermaid.’
‘But Mum’s an international wildlife vet,’ Joe said hotly.
‘So might the Walrus be,’ replied Peter.
Joe didn’t think for one minute that the large grumpy man across the aisle was an international vet. He wanted to ask his mother what she thought, but Binti and Aesha were both snuggled up in their blankets, fast asleep. Joe tried to go to sleep as well, but he couldn’t help casting sideways glances at his neighbour, and the more he studied him, the more he convinced himself that the man was some sort of villain. He might be a hunter, or a poacher, or a smuggler of tiger parts!
Binti had told him about how valuable tiger parts were in some societies, and he knew the skins were worth a fortune. He also knew that trading in tiger parts was strictly illegal.
I bet that’s what he does, Joe thought, only to see that the man had woken up again and was delving into a packet of sweets. Joe watched out of the corner of his eye as he put a sweet in his mouth and began to suck on it. The man suddenly held the packet across the aisle and encouraged Joe to take one. Joe shook his head and moved nearer his father. He did his best to ignore the man for the rest of the flight.
When they landed in Moscow, he kept close to Binti as they trekked along the airport’s endless corridors until they reached the lounge reserved for passengers waiting for connecting flights. They had a long wait, and Joe was annoyed to discover that the man had followed them.
‘Are you tired, Joe?’ Binti asked, putting her arm around his shoulders. ‘You look done in.’
Joe shrugged. He was tired, but he didn’t want to admit it. ‘What happens to people who get caught smuggling tiger parts?’ he asked.
‘Not enough, frankly,’ Binti replied. ‘It’s not considered that serious an offence by some courts, though it seems to me that anyone profiting from the potential extinction of any form of wildlife should have the book thrown at them.’
‘I bet they’re not very nice, the people who do that,’ said Joe.
‘In some cases that’s probably true,’ said Binti. ‘In other cases it’s more complicated. We can’t necessarily blame people for seizing the few opportunities that come their way to climb out of poverty. In those cases we need to help them find other ways to earn a living.’
‘But tigers are dying out,’ Joe protested.
‘And that’s why so many caring people all over the world are doing everything they can to save them.’
Joe looked across at the man who was now sitting at a table in the transit lounge café. ‘What would you do if you thought someone might be a smuggler?’
‘I’d try to find some evidence and then report them to the authorities,’ said Binti. ‘But it’s not easy – it’s not as if they have “smuggler” written across their foreheads.’
Joe thought about the one piece of ‘evidence’ he had had – the magazine. It didn’t amount to very much – nothing at all, if he was honest with himself. He would just have to forget the man.
He was relieved when at last they boarded the onward flight to Vladivostok, but dismayed to see that the man was boarding it too.
Chapter 4
‘It’s freezing!’ Aesha cried, as they h
urried towards the minibus that was waiting for them outside the terminal at Vladivostok airport.
‘Isn’t that what we were expecting?’ Her father grinned.
‘There’s freezing and then there’s freezing. This is f-f-f-freeeeezing!’
‘Put your hat on then!’ said Binti.
‘It’s not that bad,’ Aesha replied quickly, scrambling into the minibus while the driver stowed their luggage in the back. ‘It’s warm in here. Hurry up and get in!’
‘You’re right about one thing – you do look like a beluga,’ chirped Joe, jumping into the seat behind her so that she couldn’t take a swipe at him.
They set off through the town. Joe found himself gripping the door handle as the minibus swerved past cars that were going too slowly along sweeping boulevards lined with buildings that seemed to belong to another century. The next minute, they were driving nose to tail through streets that were too narrow for all the traffic. The driver was very vocal and shook his fist at anyone he deemed to be in his way.
‘He’s excitable,’ Peter observed.
‘He’s a lunatic!’ Binti muttered.
Joe stared with fascination when they passed close to the harbour because he loved looking at boats. Small private yachts were moored next to trawlers and cargo ships, while passenger liners were busily swapping places with ferry boats and a huge tanker drifted along the horizon. The road continued to follow the seafront, skirting an extensive stretch of sandy beach.
‘I never thought of Russia being by the sea,’ Joe said.
‘You wouldn’t catch me swimming in it,’ Aesha declared.
‘People do, in the summer. The temperatures then are similar to ours in the UK,’ Binti told her.
‘So it’s not that warm,’ scoffed Aesha.
Soon after they turned inland it began to snow lightly and Binti expressed her concern that they might not make it to Lazovsky, where they were heading.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Peter brightly. ‘Russia doesn’t come to a standstill like it does back home just because of a bit of snow.’
Joe gazed out at the whitening world, feeling excited. This was proper snow – great big flakes the size of cottonwool balls were dropping from the sky, and every mile they travelled took them closer to the realm of the Amur tiger. He peered intently at the pine woods fringing the highway. I’d so love to see a tiger in the wild, he thought. His mother, however, had warned him that the chances were almost nil.