When Fu Bao was born on an unsuspecting night at 3:29 AM, she was filmed by the zoo’s security cameras and posted on the internet the next day. She was a small, pink, fuzzy, blind to not only her surroundings but also the hundreds of thousands of fans welcoming her to the world. I couldn’t help but feel affection for her as she began to grow into predestined patterns of black fur and learned to chew bamboo like her mother.
When she turned three, deals were signed and hands were shaken, deciding for her to go to America.
“Wei Feng, you can take care of Fu Bao in America,” said my supervisor. It was a wonderful opportunity for me. I packed my bags for San Francisco and left easily, with no one at home to have a tearful goodbye with.
Crowds of American zoo visitors flocked to see Fu Bao. Once, she was chomping away at a bamboo shoot when suddenly she dipped her head too low while leaning forward, and then rolled down her grass hill. The speeding black and white ball elicited laughter and cheers from the crowd above her. Phone cameras filmed videos that would earn millions of views on the internet.
Once when the zoo was closed to visitors, I went down to her enclosure to clean the panda droppings. I noticed Fu Bao from the peripheries of my eyes, watching me. I turned to see her. Her gaze seemed to be quite meaningful, and it unnerved me.
“Do you know where we are?” At first, I didn’t realize that it was Fu Bao speaking. Her gravely, heavy voice didn’t just originate from her open mouth but also vibrated from the trees, the grass, the man-made nature of the enclosure around us. The maturity in her voice was jarring.
“San Francisco Zoo,” I answered with a shaky voice. “We moved from Chengdu to California.”
“Is that so? Well, those names don’t mean anything to me.” Her giant, white, fluffy face moved forward just an inch. “But things did look a little different around here.”
From then on, my observations of Fu Bao were more energized and artful. I watched her every moment I could, trying to get another glimpse of the true Fu Bao, that only I knew.
The next time I went down to the enclosure, my coworker came along to help me carry in more bamboo.
“She’s been eating a lot now,” she told me with a smile. “Soon she’ll be huge.”
I agreed and smiled back, avoiding her gaze like the sun. She, who had come with me from Chengdu, makes me nervous, I admit.
I looked at Fu Bao from across the enclosure and wondered if she could sense my feelings of romance and anxiety, and felt reassured by the prospect that she could.
“Can I show you a secret?” I invited my coworker with a voice that promised nothing less than magic. She nodded and followed me to Fu Bao.
“Hey, Fu Bao.” I whispered to the panda. “Can you speak?” Fu Bao looked steely at me and to my disappointment, said nothing.
“Do you want some yummy bamboo?” I nudged her. “Please just do this thing, I’ll be thankful forever.” But to no avail. I was made uncomfortably aware of my waiting coworker shifting her feet behind me, and my face flushed.
“She’s just feeling grumpy. I’ll show you next time.” I told my coworker. She left to end her shift, but I stayed with Fu Bao.
“What’s your name?” From behind me, Fu Bao’s voice surprised me again.
“Wei Feng.” I answered, my heart filled with wonder.
“Wei Feng, I’m going to just put it simply: I am not your friend, much less your wingman.”
I stared at the panda, nearly grown to an adult size, chastising me like how a stern teacher would discipline her students. Looking down at the animal that I watched grow into an internet star, I dryly laughed. “I’m not asking for a goddamn performance.”
Fu Bao huffed. She thought for a moment and started again. “Listen, have you ever tried to crush bamboo in your mouth? You couldn’t do it. It’s like a human bone.”
I paused.
“Look at how round my face is. Do you think I developed such a large face for cuteness’s sake? No. Because of these titanic jaw muscles, my bite force can snap your neck in half.”
“Why are you saying these things?” I tried to keep my voice steady. “Pandas don’t eat meat.”
She tilted her head. “We used to. Switching to an all-bamboo diet was an evolutionary decision, but it’s not an especially efficient diet.” Suddenly eyeing me with a darkness over her face that made her eyes blend into her dark markings, she snarled. “We’re still perfectly capable of digesting meat.”
I stumbled backwards, my foot suddenly catching onto a protruding tree root. I tumbled and rolled onto the ground, just like how Fu Bao did as a young, playful cub. A large shadow loomed over me.
Adrenaline kicked in. I crawled to my feet and dashed away from Fu Bao. I picked up my speed as I approached the exit, and without looking back, I threw open the door and escaped.
I never entered the enclosure again, noting down my research observations from the platform above. I occasionally looked for a sign of deeper intelligence in Fu Bao’s face, but I couldn’t tell what I saw. Maybe I was afraid to know.
Ten years later, she was sent back to China. I stopped working with pandas, but even in the face of meerkats, lions, and otters, I couldn’t help but feel them watching me with a terrifying sense of emotion and understanding. Soon, I stopped working at the zoo altogether. However, to this day, I think about Fu Bao, the panda who was known to the whole world but will never try to know a human being.
Written by Meilun Liang
