About koalas

“Are you joining the hunt? The activity is scheduled for Saturday.”

I cannot believe my ears. Is it really him who is asking me? To go hunting? He who has the eyes of a roedeer, the smile of a koala bear, the kindness of a fancy-pigeon. He who is so authentic, so original but at the same time so fragile that I sometimes wonder how he can survive in our society full of predators, full of bandits.

And he wants to go hunting? With me? I look at Sander. His thin salt-and-pepper coloured hair, the egg-shaped head, fluffy beard. If you didn't know any better, you would think he is the owner of a shop where you can buy old fashioned homemade candies.

In reality, Sander is of old nobility. His family owns the estate 'The Golden Oaks'. In daily life he is responsible for the ins and outs of the family domain. Maintenance of the buildings, supervision of agricultural activities such as growing grain, pruning the fruit trees.

“As you might know, it is an annual event! It will take place on the estate and preparations are already in full swing.”

My first reaction is to laugh him out of the room. Is he not quite right in the head? Do I look someone who deliberately wants to kill animals? But I am not smiling. I cannot get mad at Sander. I have known him since elementary school. It was he who often invited me on days off to come and play. In the big house, in the vast forest behind the estate. And later, when I was in financial trouble again, it was he who shoved money at me. I consider him as a friend.

Although I still have so many questions, I keep quiet. I have yet a couple of days to figure out how to dodge the invitation. This afternoon I invited Sander to my house. We are in what I call my library. A small room cluttered with books and magazines.

Sander is very well read. And he is a sensitive critic as well. He is also the one to whom I show my new texts. Like no other, he can subtly but sharply expose the flaws in my writings. He may be a bit delicate; his critique can be very blunt and vigorous.

“Ah, here come the shooters!”

It is Saturday afternoon and I look great in my hunting outfit. A waterproof polyester jacket, denim pants, cotton hat, leather gloves, rubber boots. Sander greets me. We look like twins in the same clothes. The loud voice that echoes through the wide hall, however, belongs to Sander's father. He is in a wheelchair. Despite his physical disability, he is dressed like a thoroughbred hunter.

“Are we up for it? Do we already smell the bountiful ferns, do we feel the strong summer wind? Do we hear the ferocious barking of the hounds, the wild shrieking of the frightened birds?”

His eyes shine like a child who is allowed to ride a roller coaster for the first time. Sander stands next to his father, strokes his arm.

“We are going to make it a wonderful trip,” the son assures.

“Good, good! I like to hear that! After all, hunting is the core of manhood. Nowhere does a man feel the depth of his inner soul better than standing face to face with the naked animals.”

Then he starts coughing, gasping for breath. He squeals like an old city heating pipe. A nurse emerges from one of the rooms. She dabs the spit from the corners of his mouth with a colourful napkin and drives the would-be hunter to the well heated front room.

When the old man has disappeared, Sander comes over and checks my clothes. He thinks they look good on me, even though I am wearing this hunting outfit for the first time.

“Thank you so much for helping me,” he whispers. “Every year it is a puzzle how I can give it a good twist to this situation.”

Sander leads me to the kitchen (wooden cupboard wall, fireplace, gas stove, oak dining table, elegant lamp), he fills the crystal glasses with hunting bitter and we toast our friendship.

“Each year I feel I have to confess to my father that I am not a hunter. But how do I tell him? Hunting has always been his passion. In his mind it was, and it is the ultimate father son activity.”

Sander smiles at me like a koala bear, and I am beginning to understand how he can survive in this world full of predators.