“Tell me, good sir, have you ever seen a hawk?” Marcel asked.
I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking questions as part of my ongoing investigation into the minds of Outer Cape pets, but before I could get my reel-to-reel tape recorder set up, Marcel, clearly shaking off the remnants of a nap, spoke up with a question of his own.
“I’ve seen many hawks,” I answered.
Marcel shuddered. “I saw one once. Flew right up to the window.”
Marcel is a hamster. He’s got those big wet eyes, a little pink nose, and whiskers for days. With the tape recorder rolling, I explained that I would be asking Marcel questions directly, but his answers could come from his human, Agata.
Remembering the hawk incident, Agata gestured toward Marcel’s home, an aquarium equipped with a blue exercise wheel and a view of the outside through a kitchen window. “He was so scared he hid inside his wheel for a week,” she said.
“I felt my whole world was just spinning, spinning, spinning,” he said, crouching into a ball while anxiously rubbing his ears. After a moment, he stopped and looked around, possibly unsure of where he was. “What were we discussing?” he said. “The weather or…?”
“Marcel is quite old for a hamster,” whispered Agata. “He tends to forget.”
“Predatory birds,” I offered.
“You’ve seen them?” asked Marcel.
“I’ve seen hawks, eagles, crows, owls, vultures….”
Marcel stiffened. “Sir, you mock me. Vultures don’t exist. You won’t be able to fool me, sir. I’ve seen something of the world.”
Agata, who takes photographs for the Independent, told me that Marcel emigrated, along with the whole family, from Poland in 2020. Malina, age 7, and Noah, age 5, help take care of him.
“I understand that you are Polish, is that correct?” I asked.
“Syrian,” said Marcel. “The first horde of Mesocricetus auratus were discovered by humans in Syria in the late 1700s, but we are an ancient species. There are scratchings on the walls of the ancient burrows that date back to the dinosaurs.”
“Would you tell me about your journey to the U.S.A.?” I asked.
“It was arduous,” said Marcel.
“It was quick,” said Agata.
“For 21 days the ship was tossed by violent seas,” said Marcel.
“We flew here on an airplane,” whispered Agata.
“And you enjoy living in Wellfleet?” I asked.
“I shall only know if my heart has grown fonder of this fragile sandbar when I am far, far away,” he said.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Nowhere,” said Agata.
“South America,” said Marcel. “Tell me, good sir, have you ever seen a… a…?”
“A hawk?” I asked.
“A hawk?” shrieked Marcel. “Where?”
In a flash, he leapt from Agata’s hands, bouncing off the floor with his little legs churning the air, and darted under the couch. We waited for a few moments until Marcel had forgotten why he’d run under there and then lured him out with a piece of kale.
“It’s such an underrated green,” he said, turning the piece of kale in circles as he nibbled toward the center.
I resumed my questioning. What was in South America?
“Only the most monumental rodent on earth,” replied Marcel, stretching to his full five inches, his forepaws raised up toward the sky. “The splendor of the Hydrochoerus hydrochaeris — the mighty capybara! Have you ever seen a 150-pound hamster, sir? Not a bird on earth can lift it. We sail for Peru on the morrow.”
“Will you come back?” I asked.
“It’s a long journey, sir, and none of us is getting any younger,” said Marcel. “No one really makes it past four and a half. Five tops, if you’re lucky. You, sir, look to be about three, no? I’m already what, maybe one and three-quarters?”
Agata whispers, “He’s four.”
“And if you find the capybara, then what?” I asked.
“Wherever the wheel of destiny spins me,” he said. “It’s always the journey, never the destination, that feeds one’s soul, and the soul of a hamster is always wandering, always looking forward, never up. Up is terrifying.
“Now, what was I saying? Something about lunch?” Marcel yawned and closed his eyes, slumping into a ball in Agata’s palm with a fitful snore. I clicked off the reel-to-reel and quietly waved goodbye to Agata and the children. Safe travels to you, good sir.
