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WHEN Olivia was fifteen, she found a badger curled up in the front garden. It looked like it was wasting away.
“When a wild animal is injured or weakened, the ticks on it will move to humans in search of blood,” said Marguerite. “I know it seems mean, but we can’t bring the badger inside the house.”
Olivia nodded without saying anything. Marguerite used the word “weakened” rather than “dies” to avoid upsetting Olivia.
Olivia always did as her grandparents said. She placed an empty box under the shelter of the woodshed’s roof, then lined it with a rag. She put the badger in there and began looking after it constantly.
She applied a salve to the bite wound from some animal on the badger’s hind leg and poured water in a dish which she put to the badger’s mouth to make it drink.
The badger stayed curled up, refusing to consume anything but the water.
Four days later, Olivia said she wanted to feed the badger soft meat. Marguerite gave her some unseasoned boiled chicken, which Olivia immediately took out to the badger. It scarfed down the chicken.
Marguerite had believed the badger was beyond saving, but strength slowly came back to its eyes, it developed an appetite and, two weeks later, trundled off into the forest.
“You must be sad to see it go,” said Marguerite.
“No. The badger was happy to go back to the forest. Probably,” said Olivia.
“I’m sure it was happy.”
“Grandma, I want to learn more about medicine. I want to learn all the ways it can be used. I want to help the animals who come to me and ask for help.”
“All right. I’ll teach you everything I know. But in exchange, I want you to learn about treating human illnesses, too. Humans and wild animals are the same. I want you to be the kind of herbologist who will go to people who are suffering.”
“Herbologist? Me?”
“Yes. You can’t be a herbologist just by learning about medicine. You’re only a herbologist once you learn about both humans and medicine.”
“But I’m not good with people.”
“Even so, Olivia. I don’t want you to be afraid of them. I want you to see how incredible humans can be.” Marguerite clasped Olivia’s hands in hers.
“I’m not good with people… I wish I’d been born an animal,” muttered Olivia, seeming pained.
Marguerite swallowed back what she was going to say. No matter what the nature of the pain this child has been forced to bear is, I want to heal it with my love, she thought, stroking Olivia’s soft hair.
The moment she did, Olivia smiled and quietly said, “Thank you, Grandma.”