The Baboon Poem by Gert Strydom

Bouncing buoyantly, rushing along
the young African baboon
greyish-brown with a green tint
came to the fence of the game reserve
it rushed up that fence till almost
at the top where it stopped.

First one hand, then another,
then one more and then the last
carefully came over the electric wires
on the top before it cheered in joy
bobbing and hobbled on.

The orchard with peach
and apricot trees
was its aim and in a rush
it went up a peach tree
plucking two or three
and pushing them one
after another into its mouth.

The stupid little bush sprite
couldn’t get another peach
into its mouth
and gave it one bite
and dropped it to the ground
and did the same with the next
and the following peach
and so it almost stripped the tree.

Having eaten to its satisfaction
it went back from where it came
and two hours later
I saw a whole troop of baboons,
some mothers with babies
riding on their backs
and big males
with long white exposed fangs.

Danger was lurking in that orchard,
danger of being stripped totally
and danger for me,
as a baboons can easily
rip a leopard apart
with claws and fangs.

As eight year old boy
I knew it well,
picked up a broom
and to the orchard I rushed
and the big male baboons
glared at me,
but when I brought the broom
to my shoulder like a gun
the sentry barked its warning
and baboons fell from trees
and there were baboons everywhere
running away and bellowing their dismay.