THE OXPECKER
The summer sky burned a bright blue. Most of the savanna slept except for a particularly famished leopard padding along the bank of a dry river. The Leopard's hunts had failed for twenty days and he was filled with sorrow. Stumbling upon an acacia tree, the Leopard laid down in the shade for one final sleep.
The Leopard and his kind had known hardship and joy in equal measure, but they had ceased to evolve, stagnating in their solitude. Lions had their pride, hyenas their clan. Leopards only knew what they encountered and, for this ignorance, they suffered.
These were the Leopard’s thoughts as dust crusted his eyelids.
A high pitch voice rang out above. It reminded the Leopard of the voices his mother used in stories when he was a cub, long ago, before he had ventured out onto the savanna.
"Leopard! Why do you rest so far from the treetops of the jungle?"
The Leopard opened his eyes but could not see who spoke to him. The voice spoke again.
"Leopard! Your ribs are laid bare and your spirits are low. What ill fortune has befallen you?"
The Leopard relayed a story of failed hunts across empty lands. The Leopard felt shame for his failures yet sharing such truths improved his mood. At the story's end, the Leopard strained to discover who listened.
"Leopard! I would reveal myself but we are not natural friends. I know of your hunger and I know of your kind's nature, and I do not trust you."
The Leopard cried out that companionship was all he desired: he is not defined by his nature! With a "Tsik-tsik, tsik-tsik!" the Oxpecker - a small gray bird with a beak as orange as a sunset - landed atop the Leopard's head and plucked a tick that had burrowed behind the great cat’s ear.
"Leopard! I shall help you in your hunt. In return, I shall fill my belly and learn more about your kind."
And it was so. The Oxpecker rode atop the Leopard's shoulder and they found great success across many hunts. The Oxpecker would fly to impossible heights to sight prey - impala, baboons, warthogs - from great distances. The Oxpecker would point its bright orange beak with a “Tsik-tsik! Tsik-tsik!” and the Leopard would kill - the archer and the arrow, the arrow and the archer. The Leopard's belly filled with meat and his spirits lifted to the skies alongside the bird. He experienced hope and curiosity and power.
Companionship benefitted the Leopard and Oxpecker, alike. The Oxpecker feasted as it never had before. It slurped and sucked and pecked the eyes and testicles and entrails of the Leopard's many victims. The Oxpecker learned rapidly, adapting to the Leopard’s preferences for antelope and dense vegetation.
They traveled vast distances together, and the Leopard's mind expanded as it never had before. The Leopard discovered he had distant cousins living atop mountains of ice. He learned of rivers so wide that they knew no bank. He came to admire the power of flight and, for the first time in his memory, the Leopard saw another creature as his equal.
The Oxpecker called the Leopard a friend in turn, flattering him as the true king of the savanna. The bird began to whisper their deeds to pumas far and wide, withholding its own role in the hunt. The beasts came to know and fear and respect the Leopard.
One day, the Leopard rested by a dried up lake as the Oxpecker scanned the grasslands. The regal cat had become fat and arrogant. Another leopard padded up opposite him, nose dry and belly empty, her gaze cast down in supplication.
She called out:
"Cousin! We are all hungry yet your belly is full of impala, baboons, and warthog. Tell me your secrets so we may follow in your footsteps."
The Leopard - having learned of friendship and seeing the desperation in his cousin's eyes - offered his secrets. He spoke of the Oxpecker. He relayed the advantages of companionship and teamwork, ending with a bold proclamation: all leopards should find their own oxpecker.
"Tsik-tsik, tsik-tsik!" went the Oxpecker as it landed atop the Leopard's shoulder. "The hunt is here!"
The Leopard and its cousin eagerly followed the flight of the Oxpecker and discovered a herd of unsuspecting antelope. The cousin leopard pounced upon a slow-moving elder, but the Leopard and his Oxpecker had grown greedy. They pursued the largest of the herd.
The Leopard leapt atop the bull antelope’s thrashing back. He fought to gain purchase, yet the bull was his equal in might and tossed him with ease. The bull lowered its horns and impaled the Leopard, gouging out his eyes. The Leopard's cousin disappeared with her prey and the herd escaped. The Leopard lay bleeding in misery.
"Wake up, Leopard, for you are alive."
The Oxpecker landed before the Leopard's snout. The Leopard tried to wake but discovered he could not.
"Leopard! Your ill fortune has returned, but our friendship remains strong. I shall be your eyes."
The Blind Leopard rose as the Oxpecker took a seat at the crown of his head. Their adventures continued with the Oxpecker providing direction, yet the Blind Leopard’s suffering increased. Prey shrunk, fear grew. The Blind Leopard became infected with burning mites, relying on the Oxpecker to preen and eat the painful bugs.
The Oxpecker relayed stories of the changing savanna. The Blind Leopard's cousin had spread his discovery and nearly all leopards had found an oxpecker of their own. While the Blind Leopard grew skinny and the mites intensified in their irritation, other leopards expanded across the savanna, usurping the lion.
“All animals have learned to fear the partnership between our kinds,” affirmed the Oxpecker.
When the Oxpecker began to range farther and farther for food, the Blind Leopard learned to rely on his other senses. He tasted the wet soil to know what grew around him. He heard the “Tsik-tsik” of distant oxpeckers filling the sky above, and he avoided them for fear of their leopard companions. He sniffed the dry wind and it filled him with longing to be as free and powerful and self-sufficient as he once was.
All hunts soon began to fail. The impala, baboons, and warthogs disappeared, and the Oxpecker’s stories vanished alongside them.
Eventually, the Oxpecker ceased speaking with the Blind Leopard entirely. No more great hunts, no more friendship. Just the constant, searing pain of the Oxpecker feasting on the mites that now infested the Blind Leopard's entire back - the only food that remained.
Then one day, on the precipice of an intense winter, the Oxpecker spoke its final words:
"Blind Leopard! We have known great adventures, but they have come to an end. You walk and I fly, and for that we shall never see the world the same way. Us oxpeckers are wise to the nature of leopards and thus we know that your kind’s era has reached its sunset."
The Oxpecker took flight, never again to return.
The Blind Leopard mourned many things. He experienced the loss of a friend, but moreso he felt the loss of self. His blindness gifted him wisdom. He now understood the trade he and his kind had made with the Oxpecker.
The summer sky burned bright blue as the Blind Leopard padded along the dry riverbank. He had not eaten for twenty days and his strength failed him. He found a cool, wet spot of clay and laid down for one final sleep. Soon after, he heard the sound of padding feet.
"Cousin! I have wandered the lands as did you. For a short time, my belly was full but the impala fled as did the baboons and warthogs. Now, the oxpeckers have deserted us too."
The cousin leopard neared the Blind Leopard and recoiled at the sight of his degradation. His lush fur coat - once golden like the sun, spots black as an eclipse - was no more. The exposed skin was covered with wounds and sores that seeped blood and puss. The Blind Leopard’s neck had been pecked through, the muscle and bone visible beneath.
The Oxpecker had eaten the Blind Leopard alive.
His cousin licked his ear and lay beside him. She asked him what had befallen their kind.
And, knowing his life had reached its conclusion, the Blind Leopard concluded his wisdom:
"We gave ourselves over to the oxpecker before we ever understood its nature. We rose to heights unimaginable, and, in exchange, we ceased to be leopards."
