The call of the wild comes to Union Street

Riding a bus to the city centre today, sitting in a sideways seat just behind the driver, I was given a reminder the power of instinct over intellect.

At a busy stop, a mother wrestled with the unwieldy combination of buggy, multiple bags of shopping, and a small girl of maybe fifteen months or so attached to her by one of those wrist to wrist leashes.

Giving up the impossible struggle to do everything at once, mother slipped the strap off her own wrist and hoisted the child onto the bus. As she detached the bags from the pushchair, preparatory to collapsing it, the rest of the queue flowed round her and onto the bus. The little girl, losing sight of her mother, toddled back towards the door, getting jostled by the rush and almost falling over the edge of the step. Picking up the loose end of the strap, I tugged gently and brought her back out of the way, close to where I was sitting.

She looked up at me, making those calculations that children make with strangers: frightening bogyman or reassuring adult? After a moment teetering on the cusp, I was given the benefit of the doubt. She shuffled back into the position to which I'd been guiding her and looked back towards the door, seeking some sight of her mother. Then she lifted her left hand and gripped the slack denim of my jeans where my knee was bent.

At that moment, as I felt the fabric tighten in the tiny fist, I felt an overwhelming atavistic surge of pseudoparental protectiveness: the utter determination of the adult ape that I would kill or die, if necessary, to protect this little creature. Absolutely ridiculous (nobody, but nobody, is a less likely silverback ape king than me) but deeply impressive nonetheless: survival of the species is obviously still deeply entrenched beneath the softest and flabbiest modern exterior.

Then it was past, of course; back to the reality of day to day, and the sensible realisation that no killing or dying, or even moderate roaring and chest beating, is required on a number fifty two bus. But it left a lasting sense of shock and dislocation which hasn't entirely dissipated six hours later.