MOLLY’S STORY
Al the Moose
Molly the Moose was born eight years ago at the Bronx Zoo in New York City. Her mother, Mildred the Moose, was born in Canada. Ten years ago, on a cold winter's day, Molly's mom had been sniffing around for something, anything, to eat. Then she looked up and saw two men approaching. Like all moose, Mildred knew it was best to avoid humans. Though she'd never actually met one, she'd always heard they were not to be trusted. Still, Mildred was hungry. Very hungry. The unusually cold winter had made food very hard to find. The grass was long gone and Mildred had already stripped the bark off of every nearby tree. The two men were holding apples. Big, red, shiny apples. Mildred decided humans couldn't be that bad...
You probably know what happened next. Molly's Mom soon found herself in the back of a big truck en route to New York City. A few days later she'd gone from an ordinary Canadian moose to the star attraction of the Large Mammals section of one of the world's most famous zoos.
The truth is, she didn't really mind it. Sure, she missed her friends back in Canada. But at the zoo she got three good meals a day, and she didn't have to worry about running into a Grizzly Bear, and best of all, it was at the Bronx Zoo that Mildred met wonderful husband, Al the Moose. By the time Mildred and Al had been married for three years they had two wonderful children, Al the Moose, Jr. and, of course, Molly.
Throughout most of her childhood, Molly, like the rest of her family, was quite content at the Bronx Zoo. Truth is, she didn't know anything else. She'd never a chance to run through the woods on a snowy evening, bathed in the light of the moon, dashing between the trees with cool wind flapping in her ears. She'd never dived into a rushing river, or watched the sun set over the Canadian Rockies. Pretty much all she'd ever done was eat Purina Moose Chow and pose for photographs, taken by all the nice people who visited the Large Mammal exhibit at the Bronx Zoo. Okay, sometimes the people were a little annoying, like the ones who screamed at her in a funny accent and said they were somebody named "Boris Badenov". But for the most part the people were nice, the food was decent and plentiful, and Molly was happy.
What do you think happened next?
(More of this story is coming soon, but I want to hear what your ideas are! Click on the link above to write me a letter and tell me what you think!)
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