I’ve always liked that my parents chose my middle name after San Francesco d’ Assisi. The Italian friar, who became associated with the patronage of animals and ecology, called all creatures his ‘brothers and sisters’. Francesco or Francis of Assisi is portrayed in many paintings, with birds perched on his shoulders and outstretched arms, deer at his feet, and maybe a panther in the background looking on and thinking I could kill those birds and deer, but wait, that guy looks like he might not approve! Creatures gravitated to St Francis because they recognised something in him, a quality that normal men lacked. Let that be me I used to wish when I was six and without an animal of my own. As early back as I can remember, I begged my parents for a kitten, a dream that never materialised until my own daughter was begging me. I also remember asking for a pony, you can imagine how far I got with that request. My parents were very practical people, and because they moved across the world a lot, they didn’t entertain baggage or pipe dreams. And so, when I was eight, and finally allowed my own dog, justified by my older brother’s departure for school that left me in need of a sibling replacement, I was ecstatic with their change of heart. I was only allowed a small dog (must not need walks) and an older dog (puppies are far too much work) but I didn’t care because now I was going to have my very own animal. When the small dog arrived, delivered by his former Japanese owners, I carried the bewildered creature straight up to my bedroom, so that we could be alone and get to know one another. I would draw portraits of his little face, take rolls of Kodak of him, I dressed him in dolls’ clothes, I composed songs about him, and wrote poetry for him. This little dog was my first love. And so, when my parents decided to move country again, selling up the furniture, the cars, and my dog, I was heartbroken. There are so many decisions that my parents made when I was a child that didn’t make sense at the time, but became so much clearer into adulthood. But I have never understood why we didn’t keep my first dog.
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This morning’s apocalyptic hum of the military helicopter overhead reminds us that while restrictions are due to be lifted tomorrow, there will not be a return to normality. D has his binoculars out, and is commentating on the helicopter. “They’re hovering above Stingray city, possibly taking in some sightseeing of Cayman’s number one attraction. They’ve lowered down, close to the water. They’re chopping up the sea. Cool, there’s a man lowering himself into the water by a rope! Is it a rescue mission? I think it’s an exercise. An orange dummy has just been thrown into the sea! Someone is going in after it. Now there are two bodies dangling from a rope, one is orange, one is real!”
I wonder what the stingrays make of all this commotion. Accustomed to hundreds of sun-lotion-scented humans visiting the sand bar daily, bearing gifts of raw squid, these stingrays are used to seeing our species screaming, peeing, holding phones up to catch a selfie or a quick kiss with another stingray. Then one day in March, …nothing. No visitors, no squid, no noise. Today, after two and a half months, an orange corpse is thrown into the stingrays’ habitat, and humans and helicopters come for the rescue. Stingrays must think us very strange creatures.
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Six years ago I travelled to Assisi with friends, and we visited the Basilica of Saint Clare (Basilica di Santa Chiara, in Italian) We learned that my namesake monk, Francesco, had a relationship with Clare, a highly controversial situation in those strict catholic orders, but it seems in keeping with Francesco’s character. He believed animals are equal, spoke to birds, tamed wolves, brewed beer, meditated, he was even supposedly a vegetarian. The guy was ahead of his time considering he lived in the early thirteenth century. I walked down the steps into the chapel’s dark crypt accompanied, by my friend who was delighted that I am named after Christianity’s naughtiest couple. She splashed me with holy water to save my soul, whilst making the comment that it may be too late for salvation.
Outside of Christianity, other individuals and movements were influenced by the teachings of Saint Francis. These include the popular philosopher Eckhart Tolle, who has made videos on Francesco’s spirituality. If Francesco were alive today, what would he make of today’s crisis? COVID-19 is one of countless emerging infectious diseases that are zoonotic, meaning they originate in animals. About 75% of emerging infectious diseases are zoonotic, accounting for billions of illnesses and millions of deaths annually across the globe. While humans farm, poach, traffic and sell animals as commodities in the multi-billion dollar global wildlife trade, would Francis say we brought this on ourselves with such disregard for animals and our environment? Like other disasters, the COVID-19 pandemic offers an opportunity to implement solutions that will ultimately benefit humans, animals and our planet. I hope one result is that nations join together to end the costly trade and consumption of wildlife. Another nice result would be to see the #blacklivesmatter protests succeed, and inspire animal activists to start the #animallivesmatter project, perhaps getting wildlife that includes panthers and pangolins to march the streets. Maybe, one day.
