The Hamburger Heist
Photo Credit: Gemini Generated

Beverley Reed shares a tale of The Hamburger Heist, set in South Africa’s beautiful Kruger National Park.

 

The Land Rover had been bouncing along for what felt like forever. The grandkids had played 15 rounds of I Spy and stared at so many dusty impala they had gone cross-eyed. Granny’s snack bag was empty. Grumpiness was spreading through the back seats like a yawn.

But then, Grandad pulled off the road. “Time to stretch!”

They had arrived at Satara Rest Camp. The kids spilt out of the Land Rover like a bucket of dropped marbles and bolted for the restaurant. Granny and Koko (their Great Granny) were already waiting, seated at a cool, shady table.

And above them, it was loud. A huge Sycamore Fig Tree was full of Lesser Masked Weavers. These little, yellow-faced birds were screaming at each other. The males were wrestling long green grass blades, trying to knot them into perfectly spherical nests while the females watched, judging every loop. The air was thick with a deafening ZEWEE-EEEP! and TRILLLL-YIP!

Koko, looking cool in her enormous straw hat and movie-star sunglasses, tried to talk over the noise, but she couldn’t compete with the tree. “Just look at that one!” she shouted, transfixed as a weaver hung upside-down by one toe.

The food arrived, and for a glorious moment, there was silence. The waiter, sensing impending chaos, had served the grandkids first, and they were already lost in a mountain of chips. But Koko was the last one served. When her plate arrived, she beamed. It was a cheeseburger, and it was a masterpiece: lettuce, tomato, and sauce ready to ooze out the sides – just the right kind of glurpsch to make a burger perfect.

She lifted it with both hands, mouth open wide, eyes closed for the first bite.

And that was when a shadow fell over the table.

On a nearby pole, a Southern Yellow-billed Hornbill (the locals called him “The Flying Banana”) had been watching.

Suddenly, with a flash of black-and-white, he dived. He didn’t hover. He didn’t ask nicely.

Snatch!

He grabbed the burger mid-air, right in front of Kokos’ nose!

Splat-a-gurgle!

Barbecue sauce and mayonnaise exploded in all directions, splattering onto Koko’s hat and Granny’s cheek. The

Flying Banana flapped away with his prize.

The weaver birds above erupted in absolute scandal:

“He’s done it again!”
“Oh, the cheek!”

He landed triumphantly on a branch. But the burger began to collapse.

Plop!

Half the burger patty fell. Instantly, out of the bushes, a banded mongoose and a bush squirrel appeared, tumbling and wrestling over the last scrap of tomato.

The Flying Banana looked down, head tilted, simultaneously proud and utterly disappointed.

Koko let out her own chirp of surprise. She looked down at her hands. They were still curled, holding nothing but a ghost of a burger and a single splash of tomato sauce on her thumb.

The grandkids, who hadn’t made a sound, sat with their mouths agape, looking from the empty space to the warring mongoose.

Koko finally exhaled. She started to chuckle, which turned into a full-tummy giggle. The whole thing was just too absurd.

When the waiter returned with a rag, Koko smiled.

“Next time, young man,” she said, wiping sauce off her hat, “bring me a burger with a seatbelt! And a pen. I have to write this down. Otherwise, no one’s going to believe me.”


This is part of our “4 Kids” section. Articles that have been adapted for kids!


Sources: Good Things Guy Kid’s Stories
Sources: Beverly Reed
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