PRINCE GEORGE, VIRGINIA — On Thursday, an emu escaped somewhere near Disputanta and went for a run, and for one shining afternoon the animal was, by every technical definition the food industry has ever invented, free-range.
Prince George County Animal Services officers spotted the bird running loose near Loving Union Road and, in the officers’ own words, found themselves in “a high speed game of ‘catch me if you can.’” The county later posted the update every rural department hopes never to write: the “long-legged dinosaur bird” was captured “after a little running, teamwork, and some questionable cardio.” No injuries. To the emu or to the cardio.
The county then did the unforgivable thing: it announced the capture and refused to say what the emu eats. Officials are still looking for the owner, which means the emu currently has no chef, no menu, and no accountability to anyone. It ate what it wanted, where it wanted, on a public road, in front of witnesses. The organic label costs $40 a year. This bird earned its certification at full sprint.
Local reaction was immediate and, as always, unhinged. One Disputanta resident told the county he had “seen that bird before and he looked annoyed,” which is exactly how a food critic sounds. A Prince George high school junior said the emu “outran a truck, and honestly that’s the most productive thing to happen on our road in ten years.” The county declined to confirm or deny the truck.
EMU VS. COUNTY: THE CHASE BY THE NUMBERS
- Top speed: Up to 30 mph. The officers' cardio: questionable, per the official report.
- Height: Up to 6 feet. The emu: taller than most of the people chasing it, and faster than all of them.
- Diet during escape: Unknown. The county will not discuss it. Sources describe the bird as "not picky."
- Injuries: Zero. The emu: zero. The county's dignity: also zero, but that was not on the injury report.
- Owner: Still missing. The emu: in custody, and reportedly unbothered.
Animal services officers have handled dogs, horses, and at least one situation they have declined to describe. The emu is now the guest of the office, a guest who has not been asked to leave and who has not asked to stay, sitting in a pen with the calm energy of a man waiting for a table at a restaurant he knows is closed.
At press time, the county announced the emu had been released to a licensed caretaker, and that the caretaker’s name would not be released, because, the county said, “the last thing this county needs is another phone call about what it eats.”