I got a call one day when I was coming home from work. I switched on my Bluetooth and was greeted by the frantic voice of Dave. My blood froze, instantly thinking the worse. However, when he caught his breath and became more intelligible, I was surprised to hear what he had to say. I pulled off the main street and turned, going opposite from my usual route home.
Dave, as I had found out, was a member of a smurf rescue group online. They coordinated with each other on social media throughout the country, all in an attempt to save their little lives. While I was at work, Dave had gotten an alert from one of his friends in the area. He had heard of a picture online being posted which had our location tagged in it. Apparently, someone was in the area taking footage of some smurfs in the area, innocently at first, who had caught something disturbing on camera.
While camping out in a bush getting his shots, he watched a troop of smurfs milling about in some shrubbery. There were men, women, and children, some to young to year a hat yet. It was around midday, as could be seen from the angle of the sun. He had been taking pictures of them, when suddenly there was a piercing, shrieking sound which took him off guard. Spinning around, he saw that there was a sudden commotion from within the smurf troop. A large group of them had begun to scurry, from something within their own group. The photographer had thought it was a snake or something, which had fallen from the trees or had come out from a hole. Yet, what he saw through his viewfinder puzzled him.
The smurfs where scrambling from a young smurf who had suddenly began screaming and crying. It ran about, arms outstretched with tears down its face as it looked at the smurfs around them. From his angle, the photographer could see that the smurfs, a baby by the looks of it, was without a hat. The adults and children around it ran from it, trying their best to avoid being touched by the bawling infant. The photographer drew in a sudden breath as he had a sudden realization. He had heard of something like this happening but did not think he would ever see it himself. This baby was being rejected.
Dave had relayed me the story as I drove. His group had gotten wind of the event a couple hours after the picture was posted. They had already sent people over in an attempt to find it but they had not had any luck. The location was close enough to my work that Dave thought of me and called, asking if I wanted to join the search. In the past couple of weeks, I had gotten quite close to Dave and to be honest he had taken a liking to me as well. I would stay at his house for a bit when I came to pick up Gus and we would chat over dinner while the infant Gus played on the floor next to us. He had come to know me and my fierce devotion to my baby smurf, as such he was not surprised when I accepted to look for the rejected smurf. He sent me the information and excused himself, saying Gus was needing his bottle.
Coming to the grove, I parked my car in the shade and turned it off. Looking at my phone, I brought up the picture which had been sent to me from Dave. The photographer had followed the smurf after it was abandoned by its troop until it barricaded itself into a hollowed log. He took the picture and then tried to rescue the poor little thing. Being a wild one, it hissed at him when he got nearby. He left, but not before posting the picture, tagging the location, and also calling the local wildlife agency. I looked down at the picture, seeing the small blue creature with its big eyes look up at me. A single tear fell down its cheek. I imagined those rangers grabbing the poor creature roughly and taking it who knows where. They just were not emotionally equipped to care for such creatures, unlike myself and others whom had learned just how fussy they could be. No way I could let animal control take such a precious baby and throw it into a cage to be forgotten.
I walked through the grove as the late afternoon sun slowly beginning to lower itself. Checking my GPS, I made my way to the location the picture was tagged. The tree canopy opened as I came to a field, a beep on my phone confirming that I had arrived. Looking around, I began to search through logs, hoping, praying that I would find the precious little smurfling before some predator got to them first. I quickened my pace, frantically searching through logs when the shadows of the trees began to lengthen. Tossing a log, a sudden bout of fatigue hit me. I clutched my head as I opened my bag and began rummaging for a bar. I was usually home by now, eating.
My fingers found foil and I hastily tore it open, taking half the bar in one bite. I chewed, trying to calm myself. I wasn't going to help the smurf if I passed out. As I chewed, I was about to eat the last half when a sudden peep made me open my eyes. I was leaning against a tree next to some flowers. A sudden movement beneath me caught my eyes. Beneath some daisies, I saw a shivering infant smurf looking up at me. Its arms were wrapped around its chest and its body was lain horizontal to the ground. It chirped up at me, rocking its body slightly. I slowly got down to my knees, trying not to comfort the smurf by not towering over it. It eyed me suspiciously as I moved, staying out of arms reach. Rummaged in my bag, eliciting curiosity from the infant. It cocked its head as I brought out a bottle of water.
Crumbling the energy bar, I then took the cap of my water bottle and filled it. I then placed it down on the ground in front of me, put my back against the tree, and waited. The shivering infant was still for a second and then slowly came out from the flowers. It tentatively shuffled forward, and when it felt safe it got to its knees. It munched solemnly on the fruit and nuts, taking small sips from the water cap. When it finished eating it came towards me. It looked up at me and gave a very sad chirp.
I placed my hand down and watched as it came to me, eventually laying down in my palm and clung to my wrist. I reached out my other arm and pet its little head and back. It cooed at me and began to hoot, looking for comfort. I picked it up, surprising it and causing it to squeak and cry. I quickly brought it to my chest and held it to me. The wild baby smurfling's cries subsided and its squeaking was replayed with cooing again. I kissed its little head and patted its back. As I comforted the baby smurf, it clung tightly to my chest and allowed me to dried its tears. I only had one thought on my mind as I rocked it gently, how on earth was I going to explain this to Gus?