It might seem like a strange time to be telling a story like this, but stay with me.
It’s about a toucan that was kidnapped (bird-napped?) a long time ago, when I looked like that face on my press card.
I was a reporter for the New York Post, and this baby was all mine. I had a pretty good touch when it came to animal stories, which are vital to any decent tabloid, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.
Anyway, I interviewed the toucan’s owner, who was offering a reward for information leading to the return of his beloved bird.
I wrote up a real tear-jerker, and the day the story ran, my phone rang.
‘I know where the bird is,” the caller said. I could hear traffic noise in the background. He was on a pay phone, and somehow that made him sound legitimate. He gave me an address in a rough Brooklyn neighborhood, which I passed on to the bird’s owner.
And just like that the toucan story made a hairpin turn into an episode of Law and Order, as a photographer and I rode out to the address that night with the bird’s owner and two cops!
We climbed the creaky tenement stairs - the cops first, followed by the rest of us. When we got to the apartment door, the cops drew their guns. Then they knocked.
And suddenly it hit me: This could go very, very wrong. My God, I could get killed in a hail of bullets, covering a missing bird story! What a way to go!
But before I could dwell on it the thief opened the door and was quickly handcuffed, as the photographer took pictures and the toucan’s owner let out a cry of joy at the sight of his bird, safe in a cage on the kitchen table.
I was giddy on the way back to the newsroom to write it up. What a night! What thrills, for a kid like me! Hell, I was indestructible! Nothing bad could happen to me, and this proved it!
Well, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m far from indestructible, and here’s the thing that gets me:
That once-dangerous Brooklyn neighborhood where the toucan was taken is now almost as safe as a petting zoo, in terms of crime.
But there and everywhere else in the world, you actually have to wonder if it’s safe to go outside and breathe within six feet of another human being. Bullets you can’t even see.
Tough to find anything to laugh about these days, so here’s hoping the headline on my follow-up story about the bird who was stolen and then rescued all those years ago gives you a chuckle:
TOUCAN PLAY AT THIS GAME!
www.carilloauthor.com