Chapter 2: The Tanglefoots

A few minutes earlier, Tammy's mother Isabel had finally finished getting all of her luggage into the living room. The bags were carefully stacked and lined up to provide the maximum maneuverability while also allowing the fastest possible means of transferring the pile to its next destination. She looked the collection over carefully, certain that she had forgotten something. As she absent-mindedly tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that something was indeed askew. Atop a carefully straightened pile of graded essays on the kitchen table, one more entry had been haphazardly dropped.

Sighing, Isabel walked into the kitchen and picked it up, then smiled when she recognized Tammy's handwriting. Tammy had not been given the assignment of defining the difference between "feral" and "sentient", but she considered herself a budding writer, and never gave up a chance to challenge herself. Pulling open a nearby drawer, Isabel removed a pair of reading spectacles and began to read:


The humans use the word "feral" to refer to all animals that are not pets or domesticated. In doing this they ignore a fundamental split in animalkind, one far more significant than anything created by a few generations of selective breeding.

For as long as animals have been writing history, there have always been the ferals and the sentients. The ferals, who, lacking self-awareness, live on instinct and raw emotion, without clothes, without speech, without a thought except to eat and to fight and to find a mate. And the sentients, stuck with forms like ferals and minds like humans. Forced to hide from humans, yet choosing to live next door. Forced to live apart from ferals, even when they are family, for feral may bear sentient young and sentient may bear feral young. Yet the line between these two is clear and sharp: from the moment of birth it is possible to see who is feral, and who is sentient, and the category you are born into is the category you will spend the rest of your days, however long (sentient) or short (feral) that span may be. None of the macroscopic species of animal is entirely made up of ferals, and only humans are entirely sentient, so every family knows what it is to have members in each category.

Guardians stand between these groups, allowing both to lead their separate lives. Between feral and sentient stands the Caretaker, a sentient that chooses to live among ferals, the messenger of the feral to the sentient. In the feral habitats set aside for them, the Caretaker ensures that ferals are free to live their wild lives with minimal interference from sentient and human alike, and keeps them in turn from inadvertently disrupting the lives of sentients and humans. It is the Caretaker that applies the Test of Sentience to every newborn in their habitat, so that new sentients may be rescued and raised among their own kind. Similarly, when a feral is born among the sentients, it is the Caretaker that trains the child in the survival skills that a feral born among ferals would be expected to learn before releasing the child into the habitat.

The sentient that thinks. The feral that feels. The Caretaker that must partake of both. All of these the human confuses with his definition of "feral". In doing this he lumps together the reasonable and the unreasonable, the angel and the monster, and in doing so he makes of a black and white world a whole mess of gray.

P.S. Good luck on the trip, and be sure to write.


Isabel put down the essay, removed her glasses, and tapped them gently on her knuckles. A solid B+, she thought, pretty good considering she didn't sit through the guest lecturers like the sophomores. The comparison between ferals and "monsters" disturbed her slightly, and she made a mental note to take her daughter to a feral habitat at some point in the future. Then she looked at the postscript again, and smiled. Good luck, yourself, dear, both with your summer and with your dreams, and I hope you know what you're doing. As Isabel turned to put the glasses away, there was a knock on the door to the outside.

"Hellooooo, neighbor!" came a voice. "Is there anybody home?"

"Just a minute please," replied Isabel, pushing the drawer with the glasses shut.

Trying to delay the inevitable as long as possible, she turned to address her daughters' bedrooms. "Tammy, Beth," she addressed the closed door of her elder daughter, "the Tanglefoots are here."

"Almost ready, Mom!" cried Tammy.

A few seconds later her door opened and her sister Beth emerged, racing down the hall to the living room. "Auntie Binkie! Auntie Binkie!" she cried. Without giving her mother a chance, Beth darted around her and opened the front door.

Standing outside on a large branch was a family of four mourning doves. The patriarch of the family was wearing a large, loud yellow Hawaiian shirt. A stick-on nametag announced "I'm Herb Tanglefoot. What can I tell you about Foreverware today?" His wife wore a slim blue dress with a faux pearl necklace straight out of the '50's. Ruining the style somewhat was the large pocket that completely covered the front of the dress, but that was a required part of bird attire, to hold the things a human would hold in their hands when flying from place to place. It was similar to the reason why land animals wore backpacks more commonly than humans - to allow them to switch into "four-paw drive".

"Well," the woman addressed as "Auntie Binkie" said to the girl, "isn't it just delightful to see you again my dear goddaughter. How are you this evening?" Glancing at the suitcases she turned to Isabel and added "Isabel, you really ought to have Bink help you with all this."

"Her name's Beth," said Isabel in a low voice. "She's too old for a silly name like Bink."

Binkie chose to ignore this remark and instead craned her neck to look at the suitcases. "Well it might be me, but that doesn't seem like near enough luggage for such a huge trip for three."

"Two," Isabel said. "Tammy's not coming."

"Not coming!" exclaimed Binkie. "Well be sure to tell her that she can come and visit us any time she likes." She then furrowed her brow and pretended to think. "Hmm...I hope you don't think this presumptuous of me, but this is the sophomore class trip, isn't it? Tammy was a senior, so why was your family coming along in the first place?"

From the exasperated look on Isabel's face, it was clear she had had this argument before. "I head the sophomore class committee for the Academy, Binkie. And I'm a member of the science committee that picked the Himalayas for the trip this year. Not to mention that my father is leading this trip, and the fact that the funding committee - which I'm also a member of - managed to raise more than enough money to allow anybody remotely interested in that part of the world to tag along.

"As for Beth here," she said, putting a hand on her daughter's head with a faraway look, "I made a promise once to not let my daughters grow up without seeing a bit of the world."

"But Tammy's not going."

"That was her decision," said Isabel, turning to face Binkie. "Her place is still open. Would you like to take it? We will be spending two weeks volunteering at the world's largest feral habitat."

Binkie gave Isabel a disapproving look. "There are more than enough feral habitats in the City with Caretaker positions open. In fact, I just heard that the birth ratio of ferals to sentients has been steadily rising over the last few years."

Isabel continued on as if she hadn't heard that. "It will be a unique opportunity to witness a solar eclipse, live immersed in another culture..."

Binkie shook her head with a grin. "Oh, no. I wouldn't think of it. Might snag a claw over there," she said, waving her wing vaguely at that part of the wall that represented the rest of the world. "No, you go along to those mountains and have a good time. I'll just stay here and run your tree while you're gone."

This remark triggered a mini staring contest between the two women. Binkie's husband looked nervously back and forth between his wife and his neighbor. "Lookie what I brought!" he exclaimed. "Bowls and bowls of goodies for the party! Where can I put them?"

"Why thank you, Herb," Isabel said, a forced grin on her face. "That's very kind."

"I hope we're not early or anything," said Herb. "Gulliver's Island was pre-empted today."

Beth leaned forward. "Did you get me anything, Auntie Binkie?"

Binkie kneeled down to look Beth in the eye. "Only one little thing for my darling godchild."

"Oo! Oo!" cried Beth. "Can I guess? Is it a Slinky?"

"No, not that..."

"Is it...an electric guitar?"

"Not quite."

"Is it...a brand new car?"

This caught Herb's attention. "Oo! Is it? Is it?" he asked excitedly.

Binkie glanced towards Isabel as she answered Beth first. "You certainly don't think that your mother would have some issue with that?" To her husband she said, "And wouldn't you know honey? You were with me when I bought it."

"Aw," grumbled Herb. "I'll never get a brand new car."

Isabel stepped back at this point. "Why won't you all come in? After all I'd be remiss in not inviting you in..."

"Why thank you kindly, Ma'am," Herb said as he led his family in. Two sons that were previously hidden by their father's girth stepped into view. The elder was built like a Tank and not surprisingly, that was his nickname. He carried a perpetual frown on his face and he took up a station in a corner of the living room.

The younger son was thin and somewhat undersize for his age. His clothing identified him as a stereotypical nerd, right down to the pseudo-horn rim spectacles that were perched precariously on the top of his round beak. That beak was buried in his current choice of reading material, a couple dozen photocopied pages stapled together and covered in both sides in neat handwriting, frequently interrupted by scientific equations, tables and illustrations. He looked to be three-quarters of the way through it.

Binkie resumed her game with Beth. "Well, Beth, do you have any other guesses?"

"Oh, just tell her!" exclaimed the exasperated younger brother, not lifting his head.

"Like they'll ever listen to you, Herbie," grunted Tank. Herbie glared back for a moment, then returned to his reading.

Beth sighed. "Oh, I dunno. A lollipop, maybe?"

Binkie shook her head.

"OK. I give up."

"How about this..." Binkie said, pulling a model of an F-104 Starfighter out of a bag.

In response, Beth grabbed the gift and started jumping up and down so fast that she became a blur. "Eeeeeeeeeeee! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It was the least I could do," offered Binkie magnanimously, "given your mom doesn't exactly know airplanes well enough."

With an effort, Isabel managed to suppress her reaction. Instead she turned to her daughter and said "Why don't you put that in your room, Beth; then you can take off that hat and finish getting ready for the party. Won't you sit down?" She addressed this last remark to the Tanglefoots as there was another race of footsteps down the hallway.

"Certainly," replied Binkie, sinking into a chair.

Herb turned back to the door. "Can't forget these!" he exclaimed, going outside to retrieve an enormous number of plastic containers.

Herbie looked up and saw where his father was going. After dog-earing the document and putting it in his chest pocket, he followed Herb outside. "Don't you think you've overdone things, Dad?" he asked.

"Never can have too many snacks, my boy." Leaning in conspiratorially, he added, "I had to bring the whole set. Never know when you can make another sale."

Herbie just rolled his eyes and continued carting containers onto the living room table.

Meanwhile from a back room came the sounds of mouth-powered diesel engines. "Vroom! Nee-yar!"

Binkie cast a significant glance at Isabel. "I can also see you haven't communicated to your daughter that aircraft use jets..."

Gritting her teeth, Isabel looked at the clock. "Hadn't we all better be going upstairs?"

Herb immediately began picking up the containers he just put down. "To the party!"

Everyone made their way down the hallway towards the stairway, leaving the suitcases behind for later. All except Herbie, who looked pointedly down the opposite hallway towards Tammy's room.

Isabel looked back with a guilty start. "Oh for crying..." She strode purposefully past Herbie to stand at her elder daughter's door. "TAMMY! We're leaving!"

"IN A MINUTE!" cried Tammy from the other side of the door.

It didn't open.

"Fine," Isabel said, "we're going then. See you whenever you decide to come up."

She left with Binkie and Herb in tow. Tank decided he'd rather be annoyed in company than with just Herbie, so he followed.

Herbie strolled down the hallway to bide time while waiting for Tammy. Opposite her room were a series of photographs. One row depicted the archery team for each year Tammy was a member, while another showed Tammy's membership in the Allegheny Academy ice hockey team. At first glance, the photos were a record of achievement: Tammy was a bashful member of each team in her freshman year, and a confident team player in her sophomore year, already looked up to in admiration by her colleagues.

Herbie walked by the photos without thinking much about them, then suddenly stopped and back-tracked.

"Hold on, what's this?"

He looked closely at the junior and senior class photographs, leaning in close with a frown on his face. Not making out much, he pulled a spare pair of spectacles out of his chest pocket, adjusted it so the two lenses overlapped to create a makeshift magnifying lens, and carefully studied Tammy's face in each picture.

"Watcha lookin' at, Herbie?"

Herbie turned in surprise to find Beth standing there beside him, minus her helmet and with her hair neatly arranged. Isabel had apparently forgotten about her younger daughter.

"Tammy in these photos," replied Herbie. "There's something I can't quite make out."

"I can tell you," volunteered Beth in a low voice, "but it's a secret."

"In other words, you're not going to tell me."

"I'm not allowed! Tammy would kill me if I told! Well...not kill kill, but still!"

Herbie turned back towards the photos. "I guess I'll just have to figure it out for myself."

Beth snuck up next to Tammy's door and leaned her head against it, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated on listening. "Shh," she whispered to Herbie, "she's doing it again!"

Herbie stood next to her, but declined to listen in. "Doing what?" he asked in a whisper.

Beth's reply was to point excitedly at the door.

Just then, the door was yanked open and Beth fell to the ground.

"Beth!" Tammy cried. "What are you doing outside my door?" At this point she noticed Herbie for the first time.

Beth popped up. She leaned towards her sister with a smile on her face. "Tammy," she asked, "are you still talking to Mo...?"

Tammy lightly bonked her sister on the head to shut her up, causing Herbie to grimace from the memory of significantly stronger bonks applied to his own head by his older sibling in days past. Beth's only response was to turn up her nose and march into Tammy's room, where she proceeded to climb up on Tammy's bed and stare out the window.

"Of course I'm not talking to Mom, Beth. She left for the party already." Tammy was not a good liar.

Herbie looked her in the eyes. "Is now a good time?" he asked.

"A good time for what?"

"At the ceremony you said there was something you wanted to tell me when there were less people around."

Tammy rushed forward and placed her hand over Herbie's beak. "Not now!" she hissed in his ear. "Ask me again later, when there's even less people around!" Herbie gave a confused glance at Beth, the only other person he could see, and Tammy released him. To prevent any more awkward questions she pointed at the bit of paper that was sticking out of Herbie's chest pocket. "What'cha reading?" she asked.

Herbie pulled out the document. "You remember when I told you that Gadget and your grandfather had published a purely theoretical paper on hyper-dimensional physics in the Journal of Rodent Astrophysics? Well, Gadget had a plan for proving that theory, but she needed some help, so she wrote to Pr. Hoppernickel and he wants me to take his place at a demonstration tomorrow, as he's going on the sophomore class trip and I'm not. So I'm reading the notes Gadget sent explaining what she's done so far and where's she's having difficulties. She'll bring to the party whatever results she's managed to get in the last week."

"Wow," Tammy exclaimed, "I'm so proud of you! Grandpa could have picked one of his graduate students, but he thought you were the best person for the job!"

"Well," said Herbie, one wing held awkwardly behind his neck, "I think having Gadget for a next-door neighbor was probably the deciding factor."

"Nonsense. I bet you could have written the mathematical part of that paper at least as well as Grandpa did."

In an attempt to change the subject, Herbie produced a folded piece of notepaper. "There was a letter addressed to the Rescue Ranger Fan Club waiting for me when I got in this afternoon. Remind me to show it to you."

Tammy nodded, brushing aside the slight impulse from "Molly" to grab the letter from Herbie and read it right there. Tammy and Herbie may have founded the fan club three years earlier, but Tammy always suspected that the inspiration for it had come to her from her invisible friend. The club now had nearly two dozen members, most of them living in the spruce tree. Tammy was president of the club, and Herbie was secretary.

Beth peeked over her tail at the two. "Tammy, did you want to give the...to say 'hi' to Chip before he got to the party?"

"That was the plan, yes."

"Well, you better hurry," said Beth, pointing out the window at a broad branch that linked the Ranger tree with the spruce tree, "because they're nearly here."

Tammy looked in the direction indicated, to see that the Rescue Rangers were halfway across.

"Eep!" she exclaimed, before grabbing Herbie's wing and Beth's hand and making a dash for the staircase.

Behind them, the later pictures of Tammy continued to gaze in fascination over their left shoulders.