Farky stood outside the old Elephant House in his plastic Panda Hat, stricken with thoughts of mortality.
You need cheering up Farky, said Sweezus. This is a sad part of the zoo. I'm going to take you to an Immersion.
An Immersion! said Farky. His ears pricked up, setting his Panda Hat askew. What's that?
I read about Immersion while I was inside the elephant house, said Sweezus. It's when the Zoo tries to make you feel as though you're totally immersed in the animals' habitat. For example, you walk along a narrow jungle trail lined with tall bamboos and emerge onto a high wooden viewing platform right under a treeful of gibbons.
Gibbons! said Farky. Are they alive? he asked, suspiciously.
Of course they are, said Sweezus. Come on let's follow our map.
They passed the giraffe enclosure, which seemed too small for the two tall giraffes who lived there. A meerkat in an adjoining enclosure paced up and down on the concrete just inside the fence. A sun bear looked decidedly depressed. Sweezus hoped they would soon find an Immersion.
Farky had recovered from his existential moment. He was bounding ahead along the path sniffing at smells. When he reached the Nocturnal House, he stuck his head in. Near the entrance was a sign that said Shush! The Ghost Bats have just had babies. Please help them by being as quiet as possible. He tiptoed in.
Showing posts with label zoo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label zoo. Show all posts
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Preserving the Unities
Aristotle was right, observed Pliny the Elder. It is good to preserve the unities of action, time and space.
These are postmodern times I replied. I suppose you are referring to the orang-utan.
Yes, he answered. You did not go to the zoo.
It was the best thing that happened that day, I countered. And I saw it on the news.
That would cut no mustard with Aristotle, said Pliny.
Did you know him? I asked.
Not until after the volcano, said Pliny. But then we became quite good friends. He was about 350 years older than me. He was said to be the last man to know everything that was currently known about everything.
Really, I said. That is pretty amazing.
Yes, he said, but untrue. He once wrote that men had more teeth than women. Something very easy to disprove. But on the whole his ideas are much to be admired. He singlehandedly invented logic, did you know?
No, I didn't. I would very much like to meet him, but I suppose that's out of the question.
Not at all. I will invite him round to dinner if you wish.
Perfect! A fig for the unities! Do you think he might be partial to moussaka?
These are postmodern times I replied. I suppose you are referring to the orang-utan.
Yes, he answered. You did not go to the zoo.
It was the best thing that happened that day, I countered. And I saw it on the news.
That would cut no mustard with Aristotle, said Pliny.
Did you know him? I asked.
Not until after the volcano, said Pliny. But then we became quite good friends. He was about 350 years older than me. He was said to be the last man to know everything that was currently known about everything.
Really, I said. That is pretty amazing.
Yes, he said, but untrue. He once wrote that men had more teeth than women. Something very easy to disprove. But on the whole his ideas are much to be admired. He singlehandedly invented logic, did you know?
No, I didn't. I would very much like to meet him, but I suppose that's out of the question.
Not at all. I will invite him round to dinner if you wish.
Perfect! A fig for the unities! Do you think he might be partial to moussaka?
Monday, May 11, 2009
Mothers Day
It's Mothers Day. That means it's last Sunday. I know, I'm not observing the Unities of Time Space and Action. And it may well get worse.
So it's Mothers Day. We do not go to the Zoo. The people who do will be disappointed, because this is the Day that Karta the 27 year old female orang-utan decides to make her great escape. She twists 3 strands of electrified wire with a stick, piles leaves on the top, builds a pile of leaves and branches against the wall and climbs out of her enclosure. Everybody is promptly relocated to outside of the Zoo. They don't even get their money back, just a free ticket to come another day.
We, however, know nothing of this. We take my mother out to lunch at the Taste of Nepal, We eat goat curry, lamb curry, fish curry, and a little Nepalese fly hovers over our table. Through the window we observe a stream of young Koreans passing the swimming pool on their way to church a little further up the road.
Burping, we drive up into the Hills. We drive past our old house at Crafers. The occupants have built a fence around it and we can only see trees. We drive to Aldgate, admiring the autumn leaves. In Stirling we get out of the car. The liquidambers and pinoaks are glowing gloriously gold and yellow and red, someone is selling hot chestnuts, the air is like pins. There are too many mothers about the place. We can't get a coffee inside. We have to sit in a chilly gazebo outside the Konditorei, next to a slow dripping fountain and a depressing elkhorn attached to a post.
Before we go home we stop off at Mount Lofty to look at the view. There is a haze over the city and the rest of the view. People are looking at the identification boards in puzzlement. Where is everywhere? The tourists don't care but it's embarrassing for us locals. At least the sea is where it should be, gleaming like beaten copper in the late afternoon sun. But my mother doesn't believe it's the sea.
So it's Mothers Day. We do not go to the Zoo. The people who do will be disappointed, because this is the Day that Karta the 27 year old female orang-utan decides to make her great escape. She twists 3 strands of electrified wire with a stick, piles leaves on the top, builds a pile of leaves and branches against the wall and climbs out of her enclosure. Everybody is promptly relocated to outside of the Zoo. They don't even get their money back, just a free ticket to come another day.
We, however, know nothing of this. We take my mother out to lunch at the Taste of Nepal, We eat goat curry, lamb curry, fish curry, and a little Nepalese fly hovers over our table. Through the window we observe a stream of young Koreans passing the swimming pool on their way to church a little further up the road.
Burping, we drive up into the Hills. We drive past our old house at Crafers. The occupants have built a fence around it and we can only see trees. We drive to Aldgate, admiring the autumn leaves. In Stirling we get out of the car. The liquidambers and pinoaks are glowing gloriously gold and yellow and red, someone is selling hot chestnuts, the air is like pins. There are too many mothers about the place. We can't get a coffee inside. We have to sit in a chilly gazebo outside the Konditorei, next to a slow dripping fountain and a depressing elkhorn attached to a post.
Before we go home we stop off at Mount Lofty to look at the view. There is a haze over the city and the rest of the view. People are looking at the identification boards in puzzlement. Where is everywhere? The tourists don't care but it's embarrassing for us locals. At least the sea is where it should be, gleaming like beaten copper in the late afternoon sun. But my mother doesn't believe it's the sea.
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