The Line Between

«The only thing foolproof," the young ostrich replied disdainfully, «is the fact that we can outrun lions — if we see them in time, which we can't do with our heads in the sand. That, and the fact that we can kick a lion into another time zone — which we also can't do — "

«Enough!» His father swatted at him with a wing, but missed. «We are ostriches, not eagles, and we have a heritage to maintain. Head out of sight and hold still — that's our legacy to you, and one day you'll thank me for it. Go away now. You're

upsetting your mother.»

So the young ostrich went away, angry and unconvinced. He attempted to enlist others to his cause, but not one disciple joined him in challenging this first and deepest–rooted of ostrich traditions. «You may very well be right," his friends told him, «we wouldn't be a bit surprised to see you vindicated one day. But right now there's a big, hungry–looking lion prowling over there, and if you'll excuse us…»

And they would hurry off to shove their heads deep into the coolest, softest patch of sand they could find, leaving their feathered rumps to cope with the consequences. Which suited lions well enough, on the whole, but deeply distressed the young ostrich. He continued doing everything he could to persuade other birds to change their behavior, but consistently met with such failure that he was cast down into utter despair.

It was then that he went to the Eldest Lion.

The pilgrimage across the wide savannas was a hard and perilous one, taking the young ostrich several days, even on his powerful naked legs. He would never have dared such a thing, of course, if the Eldest Lion had not long since grown toothless, mangy and cripplingly arthritic. His heavy claws were blunt and useless, more of his once–black mane fell out every time he shook his head, and he survived entirely on the loyalty of two lionesses who hunted for him, and who snarled away all challengers to his feeble rule. But he was known for a wisdom most lions rarely live long enough to achieve, and the young ostrich felt that his counsel was worth the risk of approaching him in his den. Being very young, he also felt quick enough on his feet to take the chance.

Standing within a conversational distance of the Eldest Lion's lair, he called to him politely, until the great, shaggy — and distinctly smelly — beast shambled to the cave entrance to demand, «What does my lunch want of me? I must ask you, of your kindness, lunch, to come just a little closer. My hearing is not what it was — alas, what is? A little closer, only.»

The young ostrich replied courteously, without taking a further step, «I thank you for the invitation, mightiest of lords, but I am only a humble and rather unsightly fowl, unworthy even to set foot on your royal shadow. Sir, Eldest, I have come a far journey to ask you a single simple question, after which I promise to retire to the midden–heap my folk call home and presume no more upon your grace.» His mother had always placed much stress on the importance of manners.

The Eldest Lion squinted at him through cataract–fogged eyes, mumbling to himself. «Talks nicely, for a lunch. Nobody speaks properly anymore.» Raising his deep, ragged voice, he inquired, «I will grant your request, civilized lunch. What wisdom will you have of me?»

For a moment the words he had come such a distance to say stuck in the young ostrich's throat (it is not true that ostriches can swallow and digest anything); but

then they came tumbling out of him in one frantic burst. «Can you lions see us when we bury our heads in the sand? Are we really invisible? Because I don't think we are.»

It seemed to the young ostrich that the Eldest Lion — most likely due to senility — had not understood the question at all. He blinked and sneezed and snorted, and the ostrich thought he even drooled, just a trifle. Only after some time did the ostrich realize that the Eldest Lion was, after his fashion, laughing.

«Invisible?» the ancient feline rumbled. «Invisible? Your stupidity is a legend among my people. We tell each other ostrich jokes as we sprawl in the sun after a kill, drowsily blowing away the feathers. Even the tiniest cub — even an ancestor like myself, half–blind and three–quarters dead — even we marvel at the existence of a creature so idiotic as to believe that hiding its head could keep it safe. We regard you as the gods' gift to our own idiots, the ones who can't learn to hunt anything else, and would surely starve but for you.»