
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, February 16, 1991                   TAG: 9102150184
SECTION: CURRENT                    PAGE: NRV-2   EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY 
SOURCE: Justine Elias
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

STORIES THAT PROVE IT'S A JUNGLE OUT THERE

Some reporters long to cover murder trials. I think this stems from a secret desire to seize upon a tragedy, dash off a sensational true-crime best seller, and appear on "A Current Affair."

But I'm deeply disappointed that I don't get to cover any escaped-animal stories.

I admit that I read murder stories with a sort of sick fascination, but I always feel terrible afterward.

Like most people, I enjoy a good scare, but I want to know that everything turns out all right in the end.

That's why I'm thrilled to discover that the New River Valley is full of wildlife, and occasionally these animals, possibly dangerous, possibly cute, wander into civilization and scare the bejeebees out of people like me.

I crave the strange-but-true variety of news, stories about errant zebras, bears, monkeys and man-eating tigers.

The main attraction of this type of story is not the event itself, but the things people tell reporters after they've seen the animal.

Usually, eyewitnesses sound like the perplexed neighbors of an "intense loner" (read: mass killer). Neighbors invariably say the suspect is "a quiet man" who "kept to himself most of the time."

My career in escaped-animal journalism began when I worked for a weekly paper in sleepy Sherborn, Mass., home of 4,000 rich people and 4,000 horses, cows and purebred dogs.

But even in Sherborn, animals could escape and wreak havoc in the town.

Prize peacocks often strolled en masse down a main street, causing BMW drivers to slam on their brakes, grab their car phones, and make hysterical calls to 911.

My favorite story concerned a report of "cows moving at a rapid speed" along Sherborn's main drag. Police said the cows were "apprehended and returned to their proper location." That's police-speak for "rounded up."

But since I've been writing for the Roanoke Times & World-News, all the glamour assignments seem to go to someone else.

Kevin Kittredge got to cover the biggest wild-animal story of the year, the escape of a bear from Virginia Tech. Tech officials didn't seem to think the escape was newsworthy, so only few people knew about it until the beast turned up dead of strychnine poisoning.

This story contained essential deadpan quotes from witnesses. Barbara Gordon of Radford saw the bear looking at her through her storm door.

"I feel like if I'd known he could be there, I'd have been watching for him," she said.

"We tried to get it out by word of mouth," said Tech professor Mike Vaughan. "There's just no way to alert the whole neighborhood."

State Game Warden Lee Wensel said the deceased was "basically a friendly bear" that would "look at you and just go about his business."

Bob Duncan of the state Department of Game and Inland Fisheries described the animal as "shy" and "secretive" and "better left alone."

I'd say he was quiet, a loner who kept to himself most of the time.

by CNB