The sky, which as everyone knows, is blue with white puffy clouds, was not at all that way when Nada Nutria looked up with her one good eye through the wire mesh covering the top of the pen. Mr. Ned built this pen to house Nada and her twelve companions after they arrived from Argentina several months earlier. When Nada looked up at the sky, it was totally white. Thousands of egrets screeched into the air, blown from the trees like leaves in the gust of wind that whipped across Avery Island.
Several minutes passed. The egrets returned to the trees to become invisible once more among the leaves. And once they did, the sky looked black and angry.
It was clear to Nada that something dreadful was about to happen. After all, why else would the sky be so distressed.
Nada watched Mr. Ned walking toward the pen. He pulled the hood of his raincoat down around his face to shield himself from the wind. It drove against him, trying to keep him from his task. He hunched down and continued pushing forward.
When he reached the pen, he squatted down next to where Nada and her cousins clustered.
"There, there," he cooed, opening the gate on the side of the pen to place cattails and bullwhips inside for the nutria to eat. "I'm afraid this hurricane is really going to be a doozey," he said, clutching his hood to keep it from flying off his head.
"What is a hurricane?" Colère demanded. "Why is all this wind blowing?"
The other nutria let out hysterical screams as they squirmed and scooted about in all directions.
"I'm scared!"
"I wanna go home!"
"What's going to happen to us?"
"This wind is blowing dirt and twigs into my fur," complained Fierté. "How will I ever get it clean and combed again?"
"We must stay calm," Nada said, trying to sound confident. She knew her cousins were as terrified as she was by the way they squeezed up close to her, their bodies becoming one quivering mass.
"I knew we could never trust that man," Colère bristled, eyes glaring like balls of fire. "He built this cage to be strong so we couldn't escape, but now we are going to be trapped."
"I'm sure he'll try to help us," said Nada.
"Nada, Nada, Nada," Lothario said, shaking his head. "You're so naïve. All men want is to trap us for our fur for their ladies' coats or use our meat for pet food or to feed THEMSELVES."
"Maybe Nada's blindness in one eye also blinds her to people's true nature," added Colère.
Nada knew her friends were right. She remembered the time in Argentina when she and her friends were almost captured and eaten by a group of pygmies because she thought they were just innocent children who wanted to play. But Nada always tried to be positive, so she said, "Remember when Gourmand ate too much and got so fat he became sick and didn't want to mate?"
"That's right," said Gourmand, "Mr. Ned put me in my own cage and only let me eat a certain amount each day so I could get well."
"He just wanted to keep you well for your fur," said Fierté.
A huge gust of wind whipped through the pen blowing the wire mesh ceiling up and down as though it were a picnic blanket being shaken to get rid of crumbs and leaves before folding.
"I can't have all this hysteria," Lothario said. "Aimée, Charmainne, and Bernadette are going to have babies soon. They mustn't be disturbed this way."
Mr. Ned looked down at the huddled mass of reddish-brown rodents squeaking and wailing in worry and fear. He walked around the pen stopping at several points to shake the wire walls making sure they were secure.
As Mr. Ned progressed around the pen, Nada could hear him singing an old black spiritual that he had learned as a child from tenant farmers who were descendants of slaves who had lived and worked on Avery Island.
"I demand to know what a hurricane is," Colère barked. "And why is this dadblasted wind blowing so hard? And when in great Horae's name is it going to stop?"
"Dear," said Queeny, Colère's mate, "You mustn't excite yourself so. You know how your stomach hurts every time you get angry."
"I'm hungry," said Gourmand. "Uncertainty always makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I eat. This wind has scattered our food all over the place. You have to dig in the dirt just to find one cattail decent enough to eat."
"My ladies need peace and tranquility," said Lothario, "Otherwise their babies might be born before they are ready."
"We want our babies to be born healthy, happy, and strong," Aimée, Bernadette, and Charmainne chimed, looking admiringly at Lothario, their protector.
Mr. Ned by this time had finished inspecting the pen and headed back to his house.