Shortly after she woke up, L declared, “I’m ready! Let’s go to the zoo!” Never mind that she was still in her pajamas, still unbreakfasted, and still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. We’d promised a trip to the Atlanta zoo (K wanted to go to Ikea, see?), and she was ready.

Much larger than our quaint (but lovely) zoo in Greenville, the Atlanta zoo has many species that L had never seen before. The first new friends: warthogs.

I’d never seen them myself except in The Lion King, which hardly counts.

They were shockingly ugly, like the product of some kind of cross-breeding experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong. Yet like most things we deem “ugly,” they were oblivious to their decided lack of charm.

Then again, these creatures must certainly enchant someone.

Just down the path, though, were animals whose grace and beauty were inversely proportional to the warthogs’. Black horses with white stripes or vice versa, the zebras were lovely in a stark and simple way. Supposedly they are very difficult to domesticate, but certainly many have tried: who could resist?

For me, though, the highlight of any trip to a zoo is the great apes. It’s as if we’re watching ourselves, they’re so intelligent and anthropomorphic.

They seem to stop and think. They fight. They play. They’re among the closest to humans biologically and behaviorally among the whole animal kingdom. I always get the feeling they’re the ones watching us.

During today’s visit, we were privileged — if that’s the correct term — to watch two enormous males contend for the attention of a female. They chased each other about a bit, then fell into violence. One smack echoed, and I shuddered as I realized the certain impossibility of a human surviving such a blow.

They calmed down a fairly quickly, and they even decided to pose for a few pictures.

In between hygiene breaks, of course.

At the serpentarium it was feeding time, and a small constrictor — some kind of boa, if memory serves — swallowed a bird whole. Those who’d arrived first assured those of us who arrived only to see the last few inches of the bird, “It was dead when the keeper put it in the cage.” What irony: some would have been appalled by what goes on everyday in nature. Animal cruelty.

Giant pandas were having their dinner as well, but it was a considerably more benign process: after all, bamboo doesn’t register pain, does it?

Despite all the new animals we saw, L’s response to the on-the-way-home question, “What was your favorite part?” was really quite predictable.

Who could put silly warthogs, zebras, constrictors, or pandas above an elephant ride?

Even though the heat was unbearable, the elephant ride was blissful.

If she could, she would have ridden into the night, I’m sure.