Chapter 7: The Bird Guy and the African Hunter

"Come on Betty, you know you want this corn," coaxed a man in his early fifties. He was talking to an emu that would not leave her nest when he needed to check the eggs.

The emu looked at him funny and than coiled its neck down around it's body and proceeded to sleep.

Dr. Harding sighed and walked over to the far fence, opened the gate and walked out of the pen, looking at the corn. Harding was well known as an authority on birds, having spent all of his professional life working at the San Diego Zoo in the avian department. His specialty was the large flightless birds, Ostriches, Emus, Rheas, and Cassowaries. He was currently doing research on the eggs of these species, and whether certain conditions led to male or female offspring, as is the case in some reptiles.

Harding walked over to his golf cart and got in throwing the corn on the cob into a bucket that contained various other fruits and vegetables given to the animals to supplement their diets. He turned the ignition on the cart and slowly drove his way through the zoo, arriving at a big building situated towards the front of the park. This building was the staff office building, a place where of the keepers and curators had offices for doing research, analyzing reports, and just getting a breather from the hot sun of the park. Harding's office was located in the middle of the hallway, and with a quick flick of his wrist his office was unlocked and the door swung open, the cool air from the air conditioner rushing at him. He threw his keys down on his desk and walked over to a small refrigerator when his phone rang. He pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and hurried back to his desk to catch the phone call.

Harding was on the phone for quite a long time, talking to a representative from a company known as INGEN. He had vaguely heard of this company, reading in some magazine or hearing on the news that they were into genetic research and things of that nature. Areas of science that were beyond him.

The gist of the conversation was that they had a new project, something of a wildlife preserve, but not the normal kind of preserve. His attraction to the project came when they assured him that the animals involved were avian based, and could be a brand new research opportunity for him. At first he was worried about losing his San Diego job, but they told him over the phone that he would be able to go back and forth from the mainland to the reserve, it was only a few hours flight time. Satisfied, he agreed to the project, to which they asked him to drive up to the INGEN headquarters, for a better orientation to the job.

He hung up the phone and just sat there for a second at his desk in his office, smiled to himself, and went back to the work that was sitting on his desk. For now, he had San Diego Zoo work that needed attention.

At the same moment, half a world away, a different kind of work was being done. In the country of Kenya, well known for it's abundance of animal species, a different kind of hunt was on this night.

Some lions, when they get a taste of human blood and are not able to catch their own natural prey, turn into man eaters and hunt men for both food and fun. It is said that the devil takes over there body, and the natural soul of the animal disappears. Whatever the case may be, this time, the man eater was just a normal lion who made a kill of a local woman and her child, and it needed to be killed before any more lives were taken.

This is where Robert Muldoon comes in. A born and bred hunter, he is well known around Africa as a Game Warden, taking care of the animals in natural preserves from poachers and illegal collection agents. After the lion made it's kill along the river, Robert was called in to help kill it. A well known hunter who has gone toe to toe with the biggest carnivores in Africa, he was definitely the best man for the job.



Tonight was the night he hoped that they could find the bloody lion. His team had tried traps, and they didn't work. They tried lures, but again the result was the same. He decided that he had to go after the lion, it wasn't going to come to them.

The team of hunters movie silently through the high grass, looking for the shining eyes of the beast. There was no visible evidence of the lion, no bloody prints or anything of that nature, but they kept on course. Finally, as they neared the river, a large looming shape could be seen bent over the river. One of his assistants confirmed the lion, and Muldoon set his aim. The site of his rifle was lined perfectly with the animal's head, and in one light squeeze from the trigger, the animal collapsed in a bloody pool. He had done it.

The villagers were overcome with appreciation for his deeds, but Muldoon took no prize, nor any accolades. He did it because it needed to be done. He thanked the chief, and made his way back to the main city of Kenya.

Along the way he got a phone call. The call was from one of the assistants to John Hammond, one of the men who owned a Kenyan wildlife preserve that collapsed when the elephants and rhinos in it were all killed by poachers. Hammond had been out of contact with him for years, and now finally got in touch because he needed help. When the new preserve was described to him, Muldoon thought it would go a bit more smoothly than the last one did, seeing as how Hammond has it situated on an island, rather than in the middle of a country.

Muldoon caught the next flight out of Africa, headed for the INGEN complex in California.