Ring, ring.
The rhythmic clatter of bicycle chains mingled with the crisp sound of a handlebar bell, ringing in the first rays of morning sunlight across the busy town.
This was an era before cell phones dominated every waking second.
People’s attitudes toward wildlife were still somewhat archaic, largely because the general public didn’t really understand or care about animal protection laws.
For instance, it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility to stumble across an actual black bear cub being sold at a local meat market.
“Holy crap.
Are they seriously selling that thing?!”
A small crowd had gathered in front of the local butcher shop.
It wasn’t peak shopping hours yet, so the onlookers were just clustered in small groups, pointing and whispering at the terrified black bear cub on display.
Old Larry arrived at Pete the fishmonger’s stall just down the street.
He didn’t notice the bear at first.
Only after hearing the commotion did he turn his head toward the butcher’s display window.
Thwack.
Pete expertly gutted a fresh sea bass on his wooden cutting board.
He scraped out the innards and tossed the clean fillets into a clear plastic bag.
“What?
Oh, the butcher’s idiot son caught a bear cub out in the woods.
He wanted to serve it up for dinner last night, but apparently, eating black bears is a massive federal offense.
Everyone warned him against it, so he got spooked.
Now he is just trying to sell the poor thing to get rid of the evidence.”
Pete peeled off his waterproof gloves and handed the heavy bag of fish to Old Larry.
“Wait, what?
The kid is selling it?!”
Old Larry thought he had misheard.
He stared at Pete, but the fishmonger simply shrugged.
Buddy, eating wild animals is illegal, but you think openly selling them at a market isn’t?!
Old Larry dropped the bag of fish into his bicycle basket.
He pushed his bike aside and shoved his way into the crowd.
Sunlight filtered heavily through the treetops.
Beams of golden light pierced the leaves, dancing across the vibrant green lawn of the enclosure.
Titan’s carapace, a beautiful mix of dark and light green scales, looked exceptionally magnificent under the morning rays.
A soft, gurgling growl escaped the baby crocodile’s throat.
He had finally mastered the single most important skill in a reptile’s life.
Sunbathing.
Crocodiles spend a vast amount of time submerged in cold water, making thermoregulation an absolute necessity.
They rely on the sun to bake heat into their scales.
However, they also need to actively regulate that absorption to prevent their bodies from dangerously overheating.
That meant opening their jaws wide.
This classic crocodilian pose allowed heat to dissipate safely from the sensitive tissues in the mouth, while the thick scales on their back continued to absorb warmth.
It was the perfect biological engine, ensuring he could stay submerged for much longer during his next swim.
A cool morning breeze swept through the enclosure.
A single dead leaf detached from a nearby branch.
It drifted on the wind and landed gently on the surface of the artificial lake, sending tiny ripples across the water.
Titan immediately snapped his jaws shut.
He lifted his belly off the grass and glared at the lake.
Scattered leaves were floating on the surface like tiny, invading warships.
Unacceptable.
How dare these wretched leaves defile my perfectly pristine water!
Titan didn’t mind a little natural decoration in his exhibit, but he absolutely despised things sticking to his scales.
Old Larry had planted some aquatic grass to make the habitat look natural.
The problem was that the loose strands floated on the surface.
When Titan climbed ashore earlier that morning, a massive clump of wet grass had plastered itself directly to his tail.
He literally had to perform a humiliating death roll on the lawn just to peel it off.
Splash.
With practiced agility, Titan slid into the lake.
He glided smoothly across the surface and snapped his jaws forcefully around the offending leaf.
Hmph.
I will make sure you never return.
Drip, drop.
He paddled to the small island in the center of the lake.
He climbed ashore, gently dropped the wet leaf at the base of a sapling, and slipped right back into the water.
Splash.
Drip, drop.
Splash.
Drip, drop.
After repeating this tedious process several times, a neat ring of wet leaves had formed around the base of the tiny tree.
Titan stretched out his right front paw and firmly patted the pile down.
It feels like I am building a nest.
He genuinely pondered whether he should just dig a hole, line it with the scavenged leaves, and use it as a comfortable bed.
His interior decorating was suddenly interrupted.
The rhythmic clicking of a bicycle chain echoed from the employee corridor.
Old Larry was back.
He made quite a commotion, kicking his heavy metal bicycle stand down with a loud scrape.
Strangely, a heavy, unfamiliar scent accompanied his arrival.
Clang.
The iron gate swung open.
Old Larry stood in the doorway.
This time, he didn’t bring the long metal feeding tongs.
Instead, he carried a plastic bucket of fish in his left hand and tightly cradled a fuzzy black bear cub in his right.
Wait, a black bear?
Huh?
What in the world?
Titan realized in about three seconds that the bear cub was definitely not his post-breakfast dessert.
He defensively opened his jaws, exhaled a sharp hiss, and tensed his body as he glared at the uninvited guest invading his territory.
“Take it easy.
Don’t be afraid,” Old Larry cooed gently.
He didn’t seem to care about Titan’s defensive posture at all.
He casually dumped the bucket of fresh fish onto the grass.
The little black bear clung desperately to Old Larry’s shoulder with its one good arm, looking absolutely terrified of falling.
Its dark eyes darted nervously around the enclosure, actively avoiding the baby crocodile’s piercing gaze.
Wait.
One arm?
Titan noticed the cub was completely missing its left front limb.
Coarse, rushed surgical sutures were still visible near the shoulder joint.
He looked up at Old Larry with a deadpan expression.
Did you seriously adopt another cripple?
Old Larry sat cross-legged right on the damp grass.
He nestled the trembling bear cub comfortably into his lap.
He picked up a whole sea bass and tossed it toward the lake.
“Come on, Number Three.
Let’s get acquainted.
This is Bear Number Four.
I am still working on an official exhibit name for him.”
Titan just stared.
You really shouldn’t question Old Larry’s dedication.
The man would probably try to bottle-feed a fully grown tiger if given the chance.
Titan leisurely waded out of the lake and approached the old man.
He opened his jaws wide.
Old Larry casually tossed a fish right toward the crocodile’s mouth.
Snap!
The deafening crack of Titan’s jaws slamming shut echoed through the enclosure.
The sheer force of the bite actually made Old Larry jump.
“You know what?
I will just leave these on the ground.
You can feed yourself.”
Given the incredible concussive force of that bite, Old Larry had zero doubts that the barely three-foot-long reptile could have easily severed his hand at the wrist.
The red plastic bucket lay on its side, spilling fresh, bloody fish onto the lawn.
Titan waddled forward.
He gently clamped his jaws around the head of a massive sea bass.
He tilted his snout straight up toward the sky and gave a sharp toss.
With a few quick, effortless crunches, the entire fish slid smoothly down his throat.
Watching the feast, the little one-armed bear cub stuck its remaining paw into its mouth.
It drooled, clearly starving and desperate for a bite of fresh meat.
Seeing this, Old Larry quietly fished a small minnow out of his pocket and handed it to Number Four.
The cub’s single paw was small and clumsy.
It struggled to grip the slippery fish.
Just as the bear finally managed to bring the meal to its mouth, Old Larry suddenly snatched it away.
“Wait a second.
Are bear cubs supposed to drink milk first?
Let me go look that up in a textbook before I give you solid food.”
Bear Number Four stared in utter betrayal.
Titan simply radiated pure, unadulterated joy.