Joe Iole and the Forest of Fire

It had been a slow day at the office. I sat slumped over my desk trying desperately to finish the crossword puzzle and bottle of whiskey I had been working on since lunch. Joe Iole sat across the room, finishing the last of the sweaters he had been knitting for the local homeless dogs before the first snow of the winter, his eyes shining, filling the room with his thoughtfulness and generosity. I lit a cigarette, reclining in my chair and thinking of all the close calls and tight spots Joe Iole had pulled me out of recently. It was certainly nice to have a little peace and quiet.

Suddenly, the kid burst in, his hair singed at the front and his clothes smelling strongly of wood smoke.

“Joe Iole!” the kid panted urgently between breaths, “You’ve got to come quick! It’s an emergency!” Joe Iole looked up quickly, his face taut with steady alertness. It was a face I had seen many times before but only in the face of extreme peril. He was ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice.

“What can I do to help?” he asked with unwavering confidence.

“It’s the forest, Joe Iole!” the kid gasped. “It’s on fire!” With lightning speed, Joe Iole sprang to his feet.

“Come on M, we have work to do!” he said grabbing his coat and glancing in my direction.

“But Joe Iole,” I stammered nervously, “this could be really dangerous. We could get hurt. Maybe we should just wait for the-”

“There’s no time to think of ourselves now. This fire could be real trouble,” he said, pulling on his coat. “The forest needs us.” With that, he and the kid darted out the door, sprinting towards the ominous column of dark smoke rising just beyond the horizon.

I quickly gathered my things and apprehensively took off after them puffing along as fast as I could. When I finally caught up with them, holding my side and gasping for air, I saw Joe Iole putting a blanket around the shoulders of one of the many villagers he had pulled from the blaze.

“Thank you, Joe Iole!” they all cheered in unison.

The fire truck had finally arrived, and it looked like another disaster had been narrowly averted. The kid came running up, giving Joe a big hug.

“I don’t know what we would have one without you,” he said through his tears of gratitude.

“It’s ok, kid,” Joe Iole said, ruffling the grateful boy’s hair. “I’m just here to help.”

Then I noticed something in the distance.

“Err… Joe Iole…” I said hesitantly.

“What is it M?” he asked. But I didn’t have the strength to answer. All I could do was point into the distance where a small animal was trapped in a circle of flames. Joe Iole immediately understood.

“My God,” Joe Iole said, “that’s a European Mink, or Mustela lutreola. With its slender, flexible body, bushy tail, and webbed paws, along with its dark, dense, winter coat, I would know it anywhere. They have shown a large decline over 80% of their natural range and are one of the most endangered animals in the world. It is commonly assumed that they are extinct in this region.”

“Well,” I said uneasily, knowing where this was going, “I guess the firefighters can handle it now though, right?”

“But look!” Joe Iole said. “They have a kink in their hose! They’ll never get there in time!” Before I could protest again, he tossed me his coat and dove back into the now raging fire. With the speed of a cheetah and the nimbleness of a gazelle, he charged fearlessly towards the trapped mink, leaping gracefully over large flaming chasms and ducking giant falling branches. Without stopping, he swept the scared little mink into his arms and began to make his way back into the ever-increasing inferno.

“Oh, I can’t watch,” I said to the kid, fearfully covering my eyes.

The next thing I knew, Joe Iole was standing over me, an endangered mink in one arm and offering me a canteen of water with the other.

“It looks like you passed out,” he said. “Drink a little water and you’ll feel better.”

“It must have been the heat,” I said, “and I have been feeling a little ill.”

“Of course,” Joe Iole said, patting me on the back. “You’ll be just fine.”

Gently, Joe Iole smoothed the mink’s fur and set it on the ground.

“There you go, little fella,” he said softly. “Our natural wildlife is one of our greatest treasures, so you be careful out there. But if you ever need help, you know where to find me.”

As the little mink darted safely into the setting sun and the firefighters sprayed down the last of the glowing embers, Joe Iole helped me to my feet.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get you home. I think our work here is done.”