A Day at the Zoo
zoo
Columbia Zoo
The Animals
Zoo and Playground
Zoo
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.
Meeting with Friends
It took some time, but the Girl finally got to spend out-of-school time with one of her best friends from daycare. With so much anticipation, there was only one fitting destination: the zoo.
“I have a lot of energy right now,” the Girl told me yesterday, pointing to her chest and adding, “In my body.” It’s common for three-year-olds, I suppose. Two of them together had an exponential effect. “Guys, slow down!” was the day’s mantra.
It was a day of firsts — not first-time experiences, but merely who could be first.
“Do you want a picture with the giraffe,” we asked, and they bolted to the first photo set, the Girl reaching it first and shoving her head and shoulders triumphantly through the opening.
“I’m supposed to be first.”
With some cajoling and physical manipulation, we managed to get them both in the frame. For all of 1.5 seconds, they sat still for a picture, then bolted off in different directions: the only sure way to make sure one is first.
The energy must have been contagious, for all the animals were unusually active. The reptiles were slithering about in their displays, and the four-year-old orangutan, Baby Bob, was climbing, rolling, and jumping.
Just more examples of the continuity among the animal kingdom’s pre-schoolers.
Fall Sunday
Living this far south has its advantages: we’re still getting tomatoes from our backyard vines. More importantly, it makes getting out as a family easier, and the usual field trips continue.
Today, it is a trip to the zoo. L has been so many times that she has the sequence of animals memorized. The elephants get everything started — appropriate, because “they’re my favorite,” L declares.
The monkeys are next, followed by the reptiles. Usually L breezes through, barely glancing at the cold-blooded, slow-moving creatures. Today, though, they were unusually active, especially the rattlesnakes.
Once we get to the giraffes (who are right after the reptiles), though, L decides she’s had enough. “I want to go to the big playground,” she says, and we rush to the playground, stopping only long enough to get a picture with Bear.
The playground also has its routine. Swings are always first. Afterward, perhaps the slides, or maybe the huge jungle gym complete with music stations.
With the bright sun and warmth, we’re hardly the only ones out today. Everyone seems to realize that this could be the last truly warm weekend.
Then again, who would any of us be kidding?
Christmas could be almost this warm.
The problem is that the warmth is unpredictable. Planning birthday parties at the park — we’d love to have L’s at the park — becomes impractical because it might just turn cold that weekend. For this birthday group, though, the weather was on their side.
As we’re leaving, L surprises us by wanting to try a few new stations. This park has some truly innovated toys, though the first one L wants is a new twist on an old torture.
Nearby, though, is a track-based activity that is almost always broken: it seems to attract everyone, even teenagers who are much too heavy for it. Luckily, L’s interest coincides with a period of functionality. Next week it will almost certainly be broken again.
We return home and finish the day with a game of Candy Land. L quickly grasps the idea behind the game, but the multiple colors combined with the element of chance are too much for her. The fact that she might not get her favorite color — blue — is overwhelming, and so we make a new rule: L gets a blue card to begin with. Period.
With blue in hand, L happily goes along with just about anything.
Columbia Zoo
Being at a zoo can teach one many things.
It can show you how close we are to the great apes. This great gorilla sat watching us as much as we watched him. His eyes darted from face to face, and occasionally he would furrow his brow. Proof of thought? Certainly not. It was humbling to look at him, though, thinking how closely related we are. Granted, we’re more closely related to chimps, genetically speaking, but I looked at the gorilla and saw shadows of us.
It was not so clear who was watching whom.
The elephants have better things to do. They’re more concerned with covering themselves with dust and looking old and wise.
The alligators were looking sly, as if they knew how long they’d survived. “We walked with the dinosaurs,” they seem to say. “We’ll wait you out.”
The goats, of course, were hungry. There’s not much to learn from goats, except how to deal with trolls under bridges.
Trains come without tracks — the definition of “train” has become very flexible in the twenty-first century, but a ride on one is just as fun.
“Helmets are for bicycles,” declares the Girl.
“And for pony rides,” K explains patiently.
And pony rides are for those who are big enough to venture out on their own, sort of.
In many ways, giraffe rides are more fun: they last longer, anyway. And they do a more thorough job of getting one dizzy.
Some birds, growing so accustomed to regular feeding from visitors, take matters into their own claws.
And it’s only with deliberate effort that visitors keep the greedy beasts from ripping the feeding cup out of one’s hand.
Feeding birds is a great way to make friends and giggle constantly.
Birds will hang upside down to get food.
Zookeepers can take the grizzly out of the wild but, well, you know the rest of the cliche.
A quick swim when we got back to the hotel and everyone was ready for bed.
Tomorrow: a trip to Angel Oak, the oldest living thing this side of the Rockies (reportedly a 1,600 year old tree), then the final destination: Edisto Island.
From here on out, internet access is a big question mark. And that’s a good thing — we’re on vacation!
Zoo School
I took L to zoo school — an instructional program for kids at our local zoo. It was short and sweet: just what a group of toddlers needs.
We began by exploring various animal artifacts, including a turtle shell that was almost as big as the Girl. This, it turned out, was only the keep-them-busy-while-the-others-arrive activity.
The topic was “Big and Small” and it was simply designed to get the kids thinking of the relative sizes of all animals. The highlight was when everyone got to touch a millipede.
Though the Girl was initially nervous about being in a room with strangers, she showed no anxiety about touching the millipede. That’s both good and bad: good for the obvious reasons, bad because a dose of caution around unknown animals is always a good thing. Let’s hope she doesn’t get inspired to try to pick up any crawling beasts she might find in our yard…
At the end of the program, L showed her leadership ability by cleaning up the pile of crayons another child had created, dumping an entire tub of them on the floor. In classic Tom Sawyer fashion, she convinced everyone it was fun and soon others joined in.
L’s eagerness to help constantly takes me by surprise. The trick now: how to maintain it through childhood.
70-300 Zoo
Why are elephants seem so wise? Because it looks as if every experience is etched on their face:
Why do giraffes seem so elegant yet goofy? Lumpy, bumpy heads.
Why do baby orangutans seems so playful?
Because they are, even with empty Folgers containers.
Why does the Girl seem more and more independent? Because she is. She gets her zipper going, hops with joy, then rips off the jacket and cries, “Try ‘gain!”
She’s not quite this independent, but give her some time — she’ll be there before I’m ready.
She already realizes how far away she is from baby-hood.
Back to the Zoo
It had been some months since we went to the zoo, so this Sunday, we packed up the Girl, some snacks, and something to drink and went to visit the animals.
Such a difference between this visit and our first visit. The Girl has developed a sense of independence, learned to walk, and begun communicating verbally.
She decided when she’d had enough, calmly telling us “dosc” (“enough”) when she was tired of the elephants,
the giraffes, the reptiles,
and the leopard.
She has an opinion and preferences and she can express them.
It’s the beginning of the end…
Zoo
Greenville has a zoo — a small zoo, but a zoo nonetheless. We took L for her first visit Sunday.
She most liked the giraffes, but seemed generally thrilled with everything — especially the way I was toting her about at times.
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As usual, L made friends with everyone.
And clearly, I wasn’t the only parent running around the zoo, trying to document everything my child does.
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