Trapped

Table of Contents

 

 

 

Hello!

 

 

My grandfather was a forest ranger in the Adirondacks and I loved going into the woods with him. But when I was about eleven years old, I became really uncomfortable with the fact that he hunted deer. I thought it was a cruel thing to do and thought that all animals should be allowed to live wild and free, without interference from people.

My grandfather gently explained to me how the deer starved to death in the winter if the population grew too large. Plus, our family counted on the meat to eat. I could see the logic in his argument, but it was a struggle.

Brenna Lake understands better than most. Her entire family rehabilitates injured wildlife and fights to make the world safer for all creatures.

I hope you can find a way to help, too!

 

 

Laurie Halse Anderson

Special thanks to Ellen Miles. Thanks also to Kimberly
Michels, D.V.M.; Trish O'Connell of the Schuylkill Center Wildlife
Rehabilitation Clinic in Philadelphia; Richard Peck of the Peck Petting
Farm in Spring Green, Wisconsin; and the Sherman family.

PUFFIN BOOKS
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Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

First published in the United States of America by Pleasant Company Publications, 2001
Published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2009

Text copyright © Laurie Halse Anderson 2001, 2009

All rights reserved

eISBN : 978-1-101-15556-1

eISBN : 978-1-101-15556-1

 

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any
responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

Chapter One

F
irst, I'm a dog. Then I'm a cat. Then a cobra, a frog, and a fish. No, I'm not some nut revisiting my past lives. I'm just doing yoga.

It's Sunday, and Mom and I are in the sunroom. Our house—it's more of a cabin, really—is in the middle of a forest. But somehow, even with all those trees around, this room is always full of sun in the morning. The warm rays find me wherever I move as Mom and I go through each of the postures. I stretch and hold, paying attention to my breath and to how my body feels.

My mom loves yoga because it's relaxing and teaches her to “live in the moment.” She thinks it's good for me for those reasons. But I love it because I get to be each animal as I do the postures. Have you ever seen a dog stretching first thing in the morning? Then you already know how to do the Downward Facing Dog, one of my favorite yoga postures. When I hold that pose, I'm not Brenna Lake anymore. I'm off in some other world.

“Should we finish up with a Lion?” Mom asks.

I grin at her. “Definitely.”

“Me, too! Me, too!” My little brother, Jayvee, runs into the sunroom. He's too squirmy to do a whole session of yoga with us, but he loves the Lion pose. So do I.

We kneel facing each other. To do the Lion, you open your eyes really wide. Then you take a deep breath, open your mouth as far as you can, stick your tongue out, and go “Aaaaarrrrrhhh!”—roaring like a lion. Then you crack up, because everybody looks so hilarious.

Mom, Jayvee, and I open wide and give our best roars. Then we all fall over on the soft beige rug, laughing our heads off. I grab Jayvee and give him a big hug. He's still young enough to let me do that, sometimes.

“Well,” Mom says, as we sit up and brush ourselves off. “At least we haven't been abandoned by all our boys.”

I smile sympathetically as she gives Jayvee a squeeze. Sunday mornings aren't the same lately, and we're both sad about it. Once upon a time, yoga was a family thing. But these days Dad is way too busy with his carpentry (he has a shop next to our house), and my older brother, Sage, has “more important things to do.”

Sage is seventeen and Jayvee is seven. They both look almost exactly like my dad, with dark eyes and wavy brown hair, except Dad's the only one with a beard and an earring in one ear.

Sage and I used to be best buds. We hiked in the woods together, rode bikes, and worked in the critter barn with Mom and Dad. My parents are wildlife rehabilitators. Our family takes in and cares for injured wildlife until the animals can be released back into the wild.

But lately Sage and I aren't so close. He spends a lot of time in his room, working on the computer. And he's also been going to meetings of this group he joined called Animals Always. It's a bunch of local animal rights activists who are totally dedicated to their cause. They're very active in this part of Pennsylvania, doing things like picketing stores that sell fur, campaigning against hunting, and writing letters to newspapers about all kinds of animal rights issues.

Sage has become passionate about animal rights. It's all he ever seems to think or talk about.

I love animals, too. I always have. I spend most of my free time working with them, both at home and at Dr. Mac's Place. That's our local veterinary clinic, which is run by a very cool woman named J.J. Mackenzie, otherwise known as Dr. Mac.

I'll be heading over to the clinic later to join my friends Maggie Mackenzie and her cousin Zoe Hopkins (they're Dr. Mac's grandaughters), Sunita Patel, and David Hutchinson. We've all been volunteering at the clinic for a while now.

I've learned so much about animals working with Dr. Mac. I love every minute I spend there, even if I'm not doing anything more exciting than mopping an exam room floor.

So, you'd think Sage and I would have lots to talk about. And we do, as long as I'm willing to listen to him lecture about the terrible way lab monkeys are treated, or why nobody should wear anything made of fur or even leather.

I understand his point. I mean, I can get angry about the way animals are treated, too. I've been known to lose my temper about it, fly off the handle a bit. (I'm working on that!) Mom says I've got to learn that everything isn't always black and white, though I can't see how hurting animals is ever anything but just plain evil. But Sage is going a little overboard with the animal rights thing, and I kind of miss the old days when we could just have a normal conversation.

I think Mom's a little worried about Sage, too. Animals Always members have been known to get themselves arrested or hurt just to get attention for their cause. I think Mom and Dad both have their fingers crossed that Sage will stay out of trouble. I know I do.

“Want to help me in the critter barn?” Mom asks as we roll up our purple yoga mats.

“Sure. Then can we make waffles?”

“Absolutely!” Mom smiles at me.

“Yay, waffles!” Jayvee jumps up and down. “I'll tell Dad and Sage.” He runs off on his errand.

As we leave the house, Poe flaps and caws at me. “OK, pal, you can come,” I tell him, bending toward his perch. He hops onto my shoulder and gives me a little nibble on the ear.

Poe is my pet crow. His full name is actually Edgar Allan Poe. He was shot by a hunter and we rehabbed him, but his wing was ruined forever. Since he'll never fly again, my folks let me keep him. But Poe is way more than a pet. Sometimes I think he may be the best friend I've ever had. He loves to make me laugh, he listens to everything I tell him without judging, and he's always there when I need him. What more do you want in a friend?

Mom and I work quickly in the critter barn, making sure that all our current “guests” have been fed and that their cages or tanks are clean.

Sage surprises me by turning up to join us as we're doing our rounds. “Haven't seen the critters in a couple of days,” he mutters, stealing some lettuce from my basket to give to one of the turtles.

At the moment, we're caring for a sick raccoon, an owl with a broken wing, and two injured turtles someone found on the side of the road. I stick Poe into an empty bird cage while I work, since owls are crows' worst enemies. I don't need Poe—or the owl—getting all riled up.

Seeing the turtles makes me so mad. Whoever hit them didn't even stop the car! One of the turtles may be blind for life; the other one has a partially crushed shell and a broken foot. I grumble about how unfair it is that they were hurt.

“Honey, it can be hard to see something that small when you're driving,” my mother reminds me. She's carrying an armload of hay to the raccoon's cage.

“Well, then, maybe some people shouldn't have cars in the first place!” I say.

Mom gets that look on her face. She thinks I'm doing that “black and white” thing again. Maybe I am. But I'm right. People should learn to get along without cars. There would be a lot fewer accidents, less pollution, and NO roadkill.

Sage agrees with me. “Maybe somebody should throw some tacks on the road at strategic places,” he suggests, grinning a little to show that he's just kidding. (Or is he?) “Maybe that would slow those drivers down. There's no excuse for killing animals.” Now he's not grinning anymore. He's as mad as I am, maybe even angrier.

Mom just shakes her head.

I haven't cooled down by the time we close up the barn. Poe always hates it when I get upset. So, instead of hopping onto my shoulder, he chooses to ride with Mom. I pretend not to care.

We stop by the carpentry shop to let Dad know that brunch will be ready soon. He's sanding some long planks, but when he sees us, he turns off the noisy machine for a minute.

“Jayvee already informed me that we're having waffles.” He grins as he wipes his forehead with a dirty red bandanna. “Sounds great! I'm starved.”

No wonder. He's working so hard! The shop is full of sawdust, and it looks much messier than usual. Normally, every tool is in its place and the shop is clean and tidy. But Dad just hasn't been able to keep up with his orders lately. That's a good thing for the family bank account but not such a good thing for Dad.

“Sage, I could really use your help in here this afternoon,” he says.

Sage just shakes his head. “Got a meeting,” he mumbles. He doesn't meet Dad's eyes.

Dad sighs. “You know ...” he begins.

Sage holds up a hand. “I know, I know. You're working hard to save money for my college education. Well, I never asked you to!”