Night Owl

By Mark W. Danielson

By nature, I'm not a night owl, but my profession has made me one. Night flying opens whole new dimensions. “To infinity and beyond,” as Buzz Lightyear would say. On moonless nights over oceans and barren land, the Milky Way is bright enough to mask our planets and constellations. Satellites can be seen tracking across the sky. Aurora Borealis dance while reaching for Heaven. Mushroom clouds light up from within. Large storms resemble nebulas. Australian wildfires and Japanese fishing fleets look like cities. Fireworks are sparks from a grinder’s wheel. My wingtip strobes become lightning.

The rising moon, distorted by the atmosphere, appears flaming orange. Flying east, shooting skyward at an alarming rate, it turns bright white. Full moons illuminate snow-capped mountains, cloud formations, airplane contrails, and bodies of water. Flying west, it sets slowly while the morning sky races to catch up.

Night flying has made me a vampire, my need to sleep before sunrise overwhelming. On good days, hotel maids won’t wake me until I’ve slept four hours, the “Please Do Not Disturb” sign on my door universally translating to “Please Vacuum Here Twice”. Working the back side of the clock has its challenges, but walking the streets of Singapore, Shanghai, Sydney, Paris, Dubai, Cologne, and so many others when I awake makes up for it. Mine is an odd, gypsy lifestyle, living in hotels five months out of each year, but it’s a wonderful life. Things I witness inspire me to write and my layovers provide the time. Night flying is serene compared to day flying. The radios are quieter and the pace is slower. Rather than fly my flight plan, I can often cut corners because there is less traffic. There is no squinting into that big yellow ball. Since I carry no passengers on my cargo MD-11, it’s just me and my co-pilot slicing the air at thirty-five thousand feet, drinking Diet Coke, and swapping stories. Never a complaint from the back.

Authors come from all walks of life and readers know little about them. That’s why I took this moment to share mine. My windscreen is my gateway to the world, my airplane, a pod circling Spaceship Earth. The next time you take a “red-eye”, you might want to check out the night sky before shutting your eyes. Every flight is different. You never know what you’ll see.

Too Tuckered

By Captain Mark W. Danielson

FedEx flies all kinds of cargo. Animals are among the most interesting. I have flown sea turtles, horses, a variety of birds, and ferrets, and can now add a hippopotamus to that list. This is Tucker’s story. If he could write, he would have painted a sign that read, “Eight Year Old Male Hippo In Need Of New Home”. FedEx came to his rescue, donating their services as a hippotarian gesture to move him from the Topeka Zoo to the San Francisco Zoo. Delivered under perfect flying conditions, Tucker is now busily exploring his new surroundings.

Tucker’s story is as interesting as his journey. Born in captivity at Disney’s Animal Kingdom, he was destined to be relocated to the San Francisco Zoo over a year ago, but the timing wasn’t right. Instead, he was transported to the Topeka Zoo where he met a lovely mate with bountiful proportions. They instantly fell in love and had a baby together on August 21, 2010. But this miracle of birth proved to be Tucker’s downfall, for the Topeka Zoo isn't large enough to accommodate three hippos. One of his handlers told me that while Tucker is very docile, the handlers were concerned that Tucker would inadvertently kill his baby by playing with him. Since the baby needed its momma, papa Tucker was being banished like Adam, except he would leave his Eden with a stock of apples.

Tucker was supposed to have been transported on November 30th, 2010, but this transportation fell through. With winter now in full swing, an appeal was made for FedEx to fly him to San Francisco. On January 6th, 2011, Tucker flew from Kansas City to Memphis, then patiently waited for me and my first officer to fly him to Oakland.

His oversize crate was approximately 1 ½ times the size of a normal MD-11 pallet. Loaded with hay and food, he was monitored by two handlers and a veterinarian. Before we took off, they assured me he was comfortable as any hippo could be. I nodded while detecting clear evidence that his internal organs were functioning perfectly. Thankfully, our airplane's rigid cargo barrier confined his distinct aroma to the upper cargo compartment rather than invade the cockpit. Otherwise, it would have been a very long flight.

Thanks to good weather, Tucker probably never knew he moved. He was a perfect passenger throughout our entire flight. Had he been upset, we definitely would have known since annoyed jumbo animals tend to bounce airplanes. But Tucker did none of that. Instead, our four thousand pound puppy seemed quite content.

On our initial descent into Oakland, the Oakland Center controller assigned a step-down altitude. To make it easier on Tucker’s ears, we requested a constant descent because of our special cargo. The controller then asked if we had horses on board. Upon hearing it was a hippo, he replied, “Cool.” From then on, we received special handling that never required us to level-off. Tucker’s information was passed from controller to controller to ensure our smooth arrival.

I elected to use the full runway length so our deceleration was gradual. The taxi in went as smoothly as our taxi out. From Oakland, Tucker's crate was transported to San Francisco via flatbed truck. The SF Zoo was very appreciative of FedEx’s service, and I was happy to be among those playing a part in his relocation. Far more people were involved in this operation than I will ever know, but Tucker's transfer was successful because it was a team effort. Now single again, Tucker is free to find a new mate while enjoying California’s moderate climate. San Francisco may not be Disney World, but it’s far better than winter in Topeka. As for FedEx – we again proved that we deliver the world on time.