Am I crazy to even consider this? Why would I do this? These were the thoughts that echoed in my brain as I woke up. I knew that there was really no great risk in returning to Earth from the Garden, but it was still a risk especially for a larger creature like myself. Who am I? I am the elephant bird. The explorer Marco Polo called my kind the ‘rukh’ in his account to the Europeans in 1298 AD. Ironically that was 300 years after my kind went extinct. He said my kind was, “an eagle-like bird strong enough to seize an elephant with its talons". That’s where we got the name elephant bird. Although I do have some pretty large claws, I am far from being an eagle. That might be because my kind stood ten feet tall and weighed over 1,000 pounds. Even our eggs weighed in at 22 pounds. That’s 2 gallons of egg yolk! In fact, our eggs being such a good food source led to our slow decline into extinction once the people moved onto Madagascar. The people did try to hunt us, but they often found our enormous size too intimidating. Also we, elephant birds, usually hunted at night, which conveniently for us, was when the people slept. Our eggs were too big to be affected by the rats or snakes brought by the people. The people would often wait until we went looking for fruit to take our eggs to feed their families. It was an understandable arrangement of survival which lasted for thousands of years. At first there were only a few thousand of them, but I have heard there are millions living on Madagascar now. That is my biggest worry about attempting a return from the Garden. The ‘Great Mission’ led by George, the Pinta Island tortoise, and the 9 others proved that the time was right to return to Earth and attempt a restart with the people. In fact my very distant ratitie cousin, the giant moa, Moana, and the thylacine, Benjamin, were back there right now in the Tasmanian Zoo, but only for a limited time. (Oh, a ratite is a large flightless bird. You’d know them best as the ostrich and emu). Once Moana and Benjamin die they will return to the Garden. They will then have the choice, the same choice I have right now. Stay in the Garden as one of your kind or attempt a return mission to Earth as a Lazarus Species. Oh, that reminds me. Where did I put my So You Wanna Be a Lazarus Species scroll? (Feel free to read it yourself if you need more background). “Okay, I’m going to do it. I think I’m ready. No. Correction. I am ready,” I said, trying to pep talk myself into this venture. On the way to the great Golden Tree, I bent down to get a drink from the brook and eat some orange fruit snacks on my way to meet the Lazarus Management Team as suggested in the informational scroll. That’s when I saw them. The Lazarus Management Team (LMT) was composed of a few species from the Great Mission who decided to stay and help others return to Earth before returning themselves in the future. “How can we help you today?” Eldey, the great auk, asked. “I would like to book a return trip to Madagascar please?” I said. “Did you read the pamphlet thoroughly,” Astuto interjected. Turning to the old dodo, I simply replied, “Yes I did.” “I know creatures are going to start showing up, having not read the informational scroll. It was probably a waste of time to even make them. I do not want to be reexplaining the pamphlet to every creature who wants to return,” Astuto grumbled. Eldey turned to his friend reassuringly, “I do think it was a good idea to make the informational scroll. Thank you for helping me put that together. If someone doesn’t read it, how about I answer their redundant questions? For now, let’s see how we can help this creature who did read the scroll.” “Fine,” Astuto huffed. “I have read the informational scroll many times, and I have decided that now is a good time to return to my home in Madagascar,” I explained. “Ok. We would love to help you with that. First we need to get some current information from you, so we can monitor your progress. We’re sure everything will be successful, but we want to…” Eldey began. “We want to know if we need to change our brochure or add ‘helpful hints’ for other Lazarus Species who will follow in your very big footsteps,” Martha, the passenger pigeon, interjected from up on a branch. “Martha, if you would be so kind. Please fly to the Tree of Knowledge and get us a scroll on present day Madagascar for our friend here,” Eldey said. “Sure thing Eldey. We will be back soon,” the passenger pigeon said, flying away. “If you are returning to Madagascar, you must be the elephant bird. As you know, when you return you choose a name…,” Eldey began again. “Actually you choose three names, because you will return as three,” Astuto again interjected. Eldey kept his composure despite another interruption. “Yes, you will return as a family group, so you will need at least two names to start. One for the male, one for the female, and one for the baby. Since you are a bird like us, you can name your egg later if you so choose,” Eldey clarified. Before I could even consider naming my family, Martha returned with the Madagascar scroll in her beak. “Please read over the current information about Madagascar so you understand how to plan out your return. There are many choices. You can simply return to your former habitat without the people knowing or you can make your presence known,” Astuto explained. “Yes. Benjamin literally jumped back into existence to save his returning triad and was taken to the Tasmanian Zoo. Moana just traveled by boat and surprised the people at the same zoo in the wrong country! Imagine a giant moa just showing up somewhere. We would have loved to see the people’s reactions. We think that zoos aren’t too bad, but we also know that zoos aren’t for everyone,” Martha added. “How and when you choose to reveal yourself to the people is your choice. Thankfully Pat had explained the basics of our plan to reset things to all the people gathered that day on Pinta Island and those watching at home. Using sign language, the bigfoot had been able to let the people know that extinct animals could and would be returning in small family triads in the future to establish colonies in the new world,” Eldey explained. Eldey, Martha, and Astuto gave me some time to read over the informational scroll. As I had heard from others, Madagascar had a population of over 27 million people. Over 75% of the people were living in poverty and were just trying to survive. Despite this fact, the people of Madagascar had been seeking to conserve the land and protect the animals living there, especially the 32 species of lemurs on the island. “So, do you still want to go? Are you ready, nervous, scared? You’re going to stay here aren’t you?” Martha asked the moment I walked back toward the LMT. “I still want to go back. It looks like there are a few places that would be best to colonize. I will find the right time to contact the people once I feel the timing is right,” I stated. “That sounds like a good plan,” Eldey said. “As you know, if any of your triad is killed, you must remain on Earth until the other two members expire,” Astuto added a little too bluntly. “Yes. I do understand that,” I responded. “One other thing to consider upon your return. Part of the ‘rhyme and reason’ of returning is the fact that your original triad will be very intelligent, carrying the knowledge you have gained here in the Garden. You will also live much longer than the following generations. Each generation seems to lose knowledge until your species eventually reaches its planned status on Earth,” Astuto added. “Okay. That makes sense to me,” I responded. “Before you step through the light, have you chosen your names?” Eldey asked. “Yes. The Malagasy people have some very long names for things. The capital city of Madagascar is Antananarivo, but they shorten it to Tana to make it easier to say. The male name I have chosen is Andrianampoinimerinatompokoindrindra, a 19th century prince. My shortened male name will be Tompo, meaning lord. The female name I have chosen is Miora which is currently the most popular Malgasy girl name,” I explained. “Very well. We here at the Lazarus Management Team wish you luck on your return,” Eldey replied bowing. The three members of the LMT escorted me across the brook where I took one last drink before stepping through a bright light. When I opened my eyes, I could see that I had arrived back in Madagascar. The massive baobab trees were a dead give away. I must have returned to the Kirindy Reserve which the scroll had said was one of the only remaining baobab forests. The trees towered above me, round, waterlogged trunks and green tops stretching out in all directions. I was home. Then I remembered it wasn’t just me. I was now we, meaning my mate, Miora, and our egg. “Hello. My name is…,” I began. “Tompo. Yes I know. I also know it means lord, but I hope you don’t expect me to call you that,” Miora teased. “That makes two of us, but where is our egg?” I asked “I already know,” Miora said, tapping her beak to her stomach. “I think we have a few days to figure out where we want to raise this chick.” “As much as I’d love to stay here in this Reserve eating baobab fruit for the first time in over 1,000 years, I think that we should head toward the capital city of Tana and try to locate a local zoo like the giant moa and thylacine did in Tasmania. What do you think?” I asked. “Whatever my lord thinks is best, I, your loyal servant, shall submit to,” she said humbly. After pausing for a moment, she burst into laughter. “All kidding aside, I think that does sound like a good plan.” “But first I think we should get something to eat. I’ll go get us some baobab fruit as soon as the sun begins to set. Until then, I think we should rest here,” I said. As darkness fell, I could see a few pairs of glowing lights in the distance, traveling behind one another. This must be the work of the people. I knew they had changed greatly since I last saw them over a millennium ago, but I didn’t know how much. Unlike most other ratites, elephant birds are nocturnal. I don’t know why we never used to hunt much in the daytime. That probably explains why my kind never had great eyesight, even though we have an excellent sense of smell. Miora and I walked over to a baobab tree and scoured the ground. We were in luck. Baobab fruit was lying all over the ground. “I forgot how good these were,” Miora said, grabbing another fruit. “Yes they are delicious, but what are these little white bugs? They are everywhere,” I yelped. As we were fighting off the swarm of white moths, I felt something scurry up my leg. I didn’t want Miora to freak out or think less of me, so I didn’t scream even though I wanted to. “Don’t look now, but you seem to have already made a new friend,” Miora said. “That’s gotta be the smallest lemur in the world. He’s not even as long as your beak.” I craned my neck backward and I could indeed see I was escorting a new friend. He was light brown with big eyes, little ears, and a long tail. He seemed to be following the white moths around and wherever they would land the tiny lemur would lick my feathers. It was cute and gross all at the same time. As we continued eating baobab fruit, the white moths continued swarming Miora and me. Several more tiny lemurs scurried up and down our legs seeking out the moths. “Now that we have eaten, and the sun has completely set, we should head east. From what I could tell from the scroll, the capital city and the Tsimbazaza Zoo are about 300 miles from our current location. If we travel by night and sleep during the day, it should be a three day’s journey from here,” I explained. “Are you sure that we shouldn’t stay here in the Kilkindry Reserve? Doesn’t reserve mean that people are already protecting this land?” There is plenty to eat, and we’ve already made friends with the locals,” Miora said, gesturing to the swarm of white moths and tiny lemurs still scurrying up and down our legs. “I did consider that, but the scroll also said that people still take wildlife from these reserves even though it is forbidden. Since we only have one chance at this, I want to try to do what has already been done before. Heading to the Tsimbazaza Zoo in Tana still seems like the safer route,” I said. “Very well. Let my lord lead the way,” she stated, bowing mockingly. So that was what we did. During the daylight hours we would tuck away in the mountains away from the people. Then during the night, we would make our way east. At first we tried to stay off of the trails created by the people, but we kept wading through manmade rice fields. This slowed down our travels, plus the squishy mud felt disgusting between our massive toes. You would not believe how much a 1,000 pound elephant bird sinks in the mud. Miora and I also remembered how the human hunters would follow our tracks to our nests, so with the impending egg, we wanted to leave as few prints as possible. That’s when we decided to take the road made by the people. It would expedite our travels and eliminate any footprints. From time to time the great glowing eyes would light up in the distance. When we saw them we would hide in the ditch next to the road. Only once did we have a close call. We underestimated the speed of the vehicles used by people. We both thought we had more time to travel before it was within sight. We were caught in the headlights of the vehicle. A man stopped and shouted something at us as we rushed up a mountainside to hide. “That was a close one,” I said. “Things have certainly changed since we were last here haven’t they,” Miora replied. “Tompo, I know we still have another night’s journey until we reach Tana, but I don’t think this egg will wait until then.” “Are you sure?” I asked. She just gave me the look that said, Are you seriously questioning how I know? “Okay then. We will have to find a safe place here tonight and prepare our nest. Do you need anything? Water? Sticks? Some of my feathers for a nest? Should I run back and get some baobab fruit?” I asked. “I need my lord to breathe. Take a few deep breaths. In and out. In and out,” she mocked. Thankfully Miora’s teasing put us both at ease. As much as I was hoping to make it to the zoo, I knew that wouldn’t be part of our current plan. We both agreed that hiding in the mountains until our chick hatched before going to the zoo was our best option. So that’s what we did. We found a small pocket of forest in which to build our nest. We completed the nest just in time because by the end of the third day, we had become three. “Do you need something to eat or something to drink?” I asked. “I am fine. I’m just enjoying this feeling of sitting on my egg awaiting the arrival of the next generation,” she said contently. “This isn’t the ideal spot because the forest is so small, but there doesn’t seem to be many large forests left to hide in. Can we move the egg if we need to? I mean, can we carry it?” I asked. “We are fine right here. We cannot move the egg. That would be too risky, plus we don’t have large wings or paws to carry an egg. We will have to make due right here. Why don’t you keep watch by the forest’s edge where it overlooks the village, while I get some rest. Our little one won’t arrive for 40 days,” Miora said, yawning. I walked to the edge of the forest overlooking the small village. I say small, based on other cities we had seen on our journey east, but still this small town probably contained more people than lived in all of Madagascar when elephant birds last roamed these lands. Miora was content sitting on our egg, and slept much of the time. After seven days of lookout duty I decided to have a look around the town. Just like in olden times, the people seemed to work in the daylight and sleep at night. There were very few lights coming from the town other than a few small fires. This made exploring much easier. There were many orangish brown buildings around the town. There were small wooden fences that contained small gardens. I also found a part of the village that contained fresh water. It seemed to flow out of yellow containers. The people often left water in green bowls under the yellow containers. This made getting a drink much easier on us. I showed Miora where the water was, so she could drink when she needed it. She made the trip once or twice but didn’t seem interested in food or water. Other than the occasional person coming for firewood, there was little to worry about. By the twentieth night, I had grown accustomed to daily life, a little too accustomed to it. That’s when it happened. I had my first encounter that would change everything. “I’m going into town. Do you need anything?” I asked. “No. I am content here, but thanks for asking. Be safe out there and don’t do anything foolish,” she said. I wasn’t sure why she always said that. I was Tompo. Lord. Hadn’t I led us here and found this place? Hadn’t I come up with a plan? Hadn’t I kept us safe for twenty days? Hadn’t I…? That’s when I kicked the bucket. No, not like that. I didn’t die, but I literally kicked the bucket, the green one that contained the water. Someone had placed it in a different place. I looked around, but thankfully no one heard the commotion, or so I thought. “Mahvariana. Mahvariana! This is amazing!” a voice declared. I turned around to see a young Malagasy girl looking up at me. She didn’t seem scared by my massive presence, but was simply in awe. I froze. I knew if I ran, she might follow me right back to the nest. I knew if I did anything to frighten her, I might be surrounded by thousands of locals. I didn’t know how a large group would react, so I decided to risk it with this young girl. I lowered my head toward her slowly. I wanted to say, “I mean you no harm. Please don’t wake up the whole village. I’m a Lazarus species who wants to return home to Madagascar for a long time to come.” What I did do was sit down, covering my “elephant destroying eagle talons” and began to purrr. An elephant bird’s purr is not like that of a cat. It’s a little more throaty with a rapid gurgle. “Are you saying that you are a nice vorona elefanta? That is what you are, isn't it, an extinct elephant bird?” she asked. I simply nodded. Although I knew I couldn’t directly talk with her, she seemed to understand. “So if you are here in Madagascar, you must have brought a family triad with you? Isn’t that how this is supposed to work?” she asked. I nodded. “Although we do not have electricity or much access to technology here in Fiadanana, we do get news. Do you know Lonesome George and the other extinct animals who were on Pinta Island? The news of extinct creatures returning to their homelands is amazing. We here in Madagascar were hopeful that some of our extinct animals like the dwarf hippo, giant lemur, or you may choose to return too. Now you have. I think most people here will be excited by your presence, but let me find out for sure. Until then, why don’t you take this bucket back to your mate. Meet me back here tomorrow night. Okay?” she said. I nodded and stood up to go. “My name is Anja by the way. Do you have a name?” Anja asked. I used my talon to write T-O-M-P-O in the dirt. “Tompo, huh? Well, you are very big, but I hope you don’t expect me to call you lord,” Anja joked before skipping back to her house. When I arrived back at our nest, Miora was still asleep. I had carried the green bucket of water back with me. While trying to quietly set it down, the handle clanged. The unusual noise woke Miora. “What is that?” Miora asked. “Oh just a bucket Anja gave me?” I said lying down. “And who is Anja? I know it can’t be another elephant bird you’re seeing because I’m the only one here. Are you seeing another lemur or something behind my back?” she joked. I relayed the story of my encounter with the young girl Anja in the village. I explained that I’d keep her away from the nest for now, but I’d be meeting her in the village tomorrow night. “Perhaps, the people here at Fiadanana will be able to help us reestablish our elephant bird colony here in Madagascar,” I assured. “Anja said that the people here knew that extinct creatures might be returning in triads after the Great Mission.” “Very well. Just be careful and stay safe,” she said, yawning. The next night, I met Anja at the well again. I quickly discovered two things about her. One, she was quite smart for her age. Second, that girl liked to talk. Although I couldn’t communicate with her with words, I could understand what she was saying. Through nodding and shaking my head, we soon learned how to communicate. “I am so glad that you have chosen our village to start your elephant bird colony. I am honored. I do hope you and your family will stay here permanently. If Fiadanana is to be your permanent home, I should show you around,” Anja said, tapping the back of my leg with one hand and holding a small torch in the other. I nodded and did my throaty purr to let her know I had understood and would like to stay here if the villagers allowed it. “First things first, what do you eat? Hopefully not small girls.” she said. I simply lowered my head and plucked some grass. Then I walked over to the nearest tree and ate a few leaves. Although I preferred fruit, I could see Fiadanana lacked baobab or most other fruit trees. “So you are saying you are a vegetarian. You might be wondering how I know so many things? Well, Fiadanana now has two schools that teach us many things. One of my favorite subjects is science. My teacher taught us about how each animal in the ecosystem is important. We have talked many times in class about the many special animals that only live here in Madagascar and nowhere else. In fact that’s how I found out about animals like elephant birds which are now, I mean, were extinct,” she said, smiling. We walked quietly to a part of town that contained a small fence and many rectangular gardens that were covering small green plants. “I wanted to show you this. This is one of the main reasons I think you should stay here in Fiadanana. Over the past few years we have not only improved our coffee and rice farming techniques which is how many of us make money, but we have become quite good at tree farming. At first many villagers didn’t understand how planting trees could help our community, but some outsiders explained that trees could bring back wildlife. Once the wildlife returns to our part of Madagascar, people might come here from far away to visit. Maybe I could make money as a tour guide,” Anja explained. I nodded. “Did you know that an expert tree farmer makes a whole $57 a month? He is one of the wealthiest people in our village. My parents, like most of our village, only make $1 - $2 a day. I often wish we had more money to buy things like a bicycle, but I fear that might never happen. We have many mouths to feed in our family. In fact, the need for money to feed our families is your greatest threat. People come to Madagascar from other places and will pay us a lot of money to capture wildlife for them. We know it is wrong because it is against the law, but one wrong deed could pay more than many years of income as a rice or coffee farmer. Here come with me,” Anja continued. I followed Anja out of town toward the group of trees where our nest was hidden. I considered redirecting the young girl, but she continued explaining what her town was doing to help wildlife like myself. “You see those tall trees over there. Those trees we use for firewood for cooking. Even though we don’t make our homes out of wood, the need for firewood demands we use trees. The outsiders who helped us build our two schools, also helped us dig well for freshwater. Did you know that 26 children died in just two months in our village because of bad water before the well was dug? Thankfully that problem is behind us here, but many of my friends in other towns still suffer from illness from bad water. What was I saying?” she asked. I simply waited to allow her to continue. “Anyway, the outsiders who came here before I was born told us that they would teach us how to build better cook stoves which required less wood, but they said they would only tell us the secrets of building a better cook stove if we learned how to grow trees first. They even had a contest rewarding the three best tree growers in our town. If your trees lived for three years, they would give you another reward. My father got that reward two years ago. We were so proud of him. Now we have fresh water, two schools, a hospital, which the First Lady visited last year, and we can all make our own cook stoves using the clay around us,” Anja said proudly. She bent down and pointed to many small trees in the soil. “Tompo, if you do stay, please tell your family not to eat these small trees. Our community goal is to plant enough trees to make those trees,” she said pointing to where our nest was hidden, “connect to those trees over there. It is a big goal, but we have already planted many, many trees.” We walked back to the village, and Anja went off to her house. I walked back to rejoin my family in the trees. “How was your trip into town? Did you get me something nice?” Miora asked when I returned. I told Miora about everything I had learned from Anja during our tour of the town. I told her that I still believed this might be our place to put down roots. She said she would follow my lead because she was caring for the egg. Over the next several weeks Anja told me even more about the town’s history. Although 80% of the town was poor, they were happy. Things had improved so much for them in Fiadanana that they were starting to help other towns too. By simply having access to a well and clean water, their lives had improved tremendously. Many nights of meeting with Anja I debated introducing her to my family, but I chose not to for a long time. On what should have been our happiest day, my family was met with a crisis. Not one brought about by people. One of natural circumstances. “Tompo. Come here and listen. Our chick is hatching. Can you hear him? Can you see him?” she said lifting her belly slightly to expose the egg. “Yes. I can see the beak pushing out. I can hear our chick calling to come out. This is amazing. We are going to be parents. What are we going to name it? Are we ready to be parents?” I asked. Always the calm voice of reason Miora said, “Yes we are ready. This is the first of many eggs we must hatch in order to repopulate this great island with elephant birds. Let’s take it one chick at a time. As far as the name goes, we will decide when we meet our little chick.” I tried not to worry, but as the night wore on we both knew that we were in trouble. After forty days of waiting, our chick was having trouble getting free. Miora and I both knew that sometimes chicks don’t make it out of the eggs. Although instincts told us to help free our chick, we also knew that helping a chick crack out of the egg could be fatal. The struggle to hatch was what made the chick strong when entering the world. Now Miora began to panic. “Tompo. What should we do? We need to do something,” she pleaded. “I don’t know. If this chick doesn’t make it, we can always try again,” I said without thinking. Miora gave me the look that made it very clear my suggestion was not helpful. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I can go ask Anja for help. She said she went to school and that her teacher was a scientist who studied nature. Maybe the people will know what to do,” I suggested. I rushed through the trees and down into the village. It was much later than I usually meet with Anja, so I knew that she’d be sleeping. Thankfully, I had become accustomed to her scent. As I said before, we elephant birds have an excellent sense of smell given our nocturnal lifestyle. I walked up to her house. There was only one wooden door and a small window far above the ground. Thankfully for me it was only nine feet up, so I was able to knock on it. Anja opened it and looked at me. “What is it? Is something wrong?” she asked. I nodded my head. I pointed my head toward the forest on the hill. “Hold on. I’ll be right there,” she said. Within minutes Anja and four more similar looking children were in the doorway. Her parents showed up too. She must have had time to explain what I was doing there because no one seemed startled or surprised by the appearance of a ten foot, half ton elephant bird in their doorway. Anja’s father spoke, “Anja, you go with Tompo, and I will go get help from the others.” By torch light I led Anja’s family to our nest. When we arrived Miora was crying. The chick was still struggling, but its chirping was less frequent.. Anja bent down and hugged Miora’s head telling her help was on the way. I feared that the people would arrive too late. I layed down next to my mate to comfort her. Within minutes I could see the village come alive with torch light. Anja ran to direct her father to our secret location. A sea of flickering lights flowed up the hill toward us. A small older man bent down with a light that was different from the other torches. It burned, but it was not hot. “My name is Dadaleva. I have much experience with medicine, and I will do my best to help your chick if you will allow me,” Dadaleva said in a hushed tone. I nodded toward the old man, and Miora slowly raised herself off of the egg. There was no chirping coming from within. Miora lowered her head next to the old man, crying. He cupped his hand to the side of her head and said, “My poor dear mama, you have done well. You have done the hard work of guarding this egg for a long time. Let me help you now.” Dadaleva grasped our large egg, the hope for our future generations, in his small shaky hands. I was worried he might drop the egg, but I knew we needed to trust him. He turned his back and took the egg to a small tree. He made many noises I did not understand, and then I heard the sound of rocks beating together. Then there was a methodical scraping noise followed by a series of tiny tapping noises. Time seemed to stop while we waited, while the villagers waited, before the old man returned to the light. His face seemed to sag, and he sighed solemnly, “Now all we can do is wait to see if your chick can do the rest.” Moments passed. Nothing. I could see the series of dots which Dadaleva had tapped into the thick shell, but nothing happened. Dadaleva began to sing softly at first, then his song grew louder. The people gathered around us began to sing along too. I looked at Miora, whose eyes were full of sorrow and then we both began to sing along with the rhythm of the old man’s song. Dadaleva raised his hand, and the singing instantly stopped. The air was still. The insects were quiet. The old man got down on his knees and whispered something to our egg. “Cheepa, cheepa,” our egg responded. Once again we watched the little beak chip away at the shell. Following the dots made by the old man our chick pecked its way around the entirety of the egg. With one final push, our chick emerged, exhausted but okay. We were all wondering the same thing, but Anja was the first to voice it,, “Dadaleva, what did you whisper to the egg?” Dadaleva smiled and replied, “I simply asked the little one if he wanted to survive. I told him that if he finished his journey to meet us, our entire village would protect him and his kind for all time.” The old man reached both hands up; one toward Miora, the other toward me. We both lowered our heads to meet his hands. “We, the people of Fiadanana, promise that we shall protect you both as well if you choose to stay with us,” Dadaleva said. Miora and I both let out a throaty purr in response. Our chick was a boy. We named him Leva. It has double meaning to us. First it honored the old man who saved our chick. Secondly, it is the Magalasy word meaning long, since our chick’s arrival took so long. After that night, Miora and I began helping the people of Fiadanana and the surrounding villages. We could easily move their water containers and haul bricks for them to use to build more wells and schools. We knew the people here would do whatever they could to protect us, elephant birds, and we wanted to thank them. This was one small way we could do just that. I don’t know what the future holds for our elephant bird colony, but it might not take as long as we thought to repopulate. A month after Leva’s arrival, we were met with a surprise, actually three. In the same day, Miora layed three more large eggs. “How is this possible?” Miora asked, stunned, “Female elephant birds can only lay one egg a year. Even one more should be impossible, but three?” “We are Lazarus pioneers, Dear. We will have to figure out the rules, the rhyme and reason, to all of this as we go. I guess I’ll just be a single dad, while you hatch out the next, next generation,” I laughed.