Rusty: The Red Panda Who Set Himself Free and Returned Home
If you’ve ever met a red panda, you know we’re shy creatures who rarely cause trouble. But sometimes—just every once in a while—my fur starts to tingle with excitement and a little mischief. Do you ever have that feeling?
This is the story of one of those times . . .
I had just arrived at the National Zoo in Washington, DC. I had a new friend named Shama and new zookeepers. Everything was unfamilar—even the position of the stars in the night sky.
Would I like DC? Would I come to love it? Would it ever feel like home?
I pondered this thought as it rained, and rained, and rained. A memory of monsoon rains stirred deep inside me, passed down to me from my panda ancestors.
Then one evening, the skies cleared. There was magic in the air.
The trees around me seemed taller. Their limbs stretched longer. Weighed down by the heavy rains, they brushed against the side of my enclosure. Just outside, bamboo had sprouted. It bent over, meeting the tree branches. The plants had formed a bridge. I walked across.
For a while, I delighted in eating as much bamboo as possible. More and more bamboo! Fresh shoots, luscious leaves!
Then, slowly, a thought bubbled up. For the first time in my life, I was free. But should I go?
If you can take one step, you can take two. I walked slowly, cautiously, through the zoo.
I twittered “good morning” to the birds in the aviary. Startled, they took flight in a burst of color, then settled again as they tweeted back.
I peeked in on the sleeping elephants. Their trumpeting calls had often roused me from my naps. But I continued on without a sound.
I waved my ringed tail at the lemurs, tickled to see we shared this beautiful feature. Their eyes twinkled as they waved their tails in reply.
Finally, I reached the end of the path. Should I turn around?
My curiosity got the best of me. My tail twitched and my body sprung forward.
I left the zoo and entered Rock Creek Park. Even in the dark, I knew this place was special. The trees towered above, wildflowers dotted the forest floor below, and the air was fresh.
I stopped to drink from the clear waters of the creek, then followed its banks until I crossed under a bridge. I peered up at the cars and people above. The city was awakening.
The hustle and bustle drew me in. I moved away from the creek and into the neighborhood of Adams Morgan.
Do you have a favorite place where you always feel safe? For me, it’s the trees. So I observed the city from the safety of the treetops.
The sun came out, and the neighborhood sparkled. Flags of every color waved like the prayer flags of the Himalayas, where wild red pandas make their home.
Car horns honked, music played, dogs barked, and children giggled. I smelled sun-warmed concrete, fresh mulch, front-porch flower pots, and coffee.
The rush of sensations was exhilarating, and then exhausting.
My mind drifted back to my enclosure, to Shama, to my keepers, to bambIn the trees, I can disappear. But on the ground, I stand out. And now, I was ready to stand out.
Head first, I descended from the trees. As I walked down the sidewalk, I attracted lots of attention!People stopped and stared, snapped pictures, and phoned the zoo. My keepers quickly arrived. They called my name, and it was music to my ears.
As I climbed safely into my crate for the return trip to the zoo, my favorite keeper gave me a fresh shoot of bamboo. My crate rocked back and forth as he carried me. With each movement, my heart sang, “I have arrived. I am home.”
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