Paul Simon is Right, “Everything is Happening at the Zoo!”

“Is that a water buffalo?”

“It’s a miniature water buffalo.”

(It’s actually an anoa – as the numerous signs around the cage attest.  Signs similar to this one.)

“It doesn’t look like a water buffalo…”

“I thought they were bigger… and hairier.”

It was at this point that I thought my head would explode.  I don’t expect the children at the zoo to read about the animals.  There’s poo-flinging monkeys around!  The adults though?  Shouldn’t they realize that animal exhibits usually have all pertinent information posted.

This is the offending party so that if you run into them, you can insult them:

They went into the tiger cave to make stupider babies on the sly.

This giraffe was a bit too into licking this pole.  A bit disturbing after reading about how homosexuality runs naturally amongst the long necked ones.  Disturbingly erotic. 

He was so into the pole that even real food was ignored.

You can barely make out the zoo keeper trying to get their attention.  The only one paying any heed to her was me, taking photos of her futile actions.  She didn’t seem to appreciate her elevation to near immortal status as a poorly focused photo in a blog nine* people will read.

Why doesn’t Busch Gardens have a water pool near their elephants?  It gives them something to do while I watch them other than crap.  Which is all the space Busch gives them is set up for.  To crap whenever you walk by.  I think the Gardens could get more mileage out of their elephants this way. 

According to Lance, the zoo’s gender ambiguous attendant, you wouldn’t want a penguin as a pet.  Apparently they stink despite their frequent trips into the pool.  It seems all sea birds stink.  Why didn’t they teach me this in school? 

Lance didn’t comment on why penguin defication is actually an underwater explosion.  This (literal!) shit is amazing.

The zoo’s real big on trying to make money now.  I don’t think all the rides were there last time I visited. 

I now own 36 square feet of Amazonian rainforest.  It feels good to know that Coffin Joe will always have a swath of land to lay his head.  I’m an enviromentalist and a humanitarian!  Who knew?

Then I inadvertently ran into the ugliest side of the zoo: the human animals.

As poet Mike Muir once sang, they: “pray for shelter/kill for food.”

“I Love… ECHO!”  screamed the precocious child leaving the cave.  His parents just covered their ears.  I’d have a child today if someone could promise me he’d scream like this. 

Bet you didn’t know that red wolves cross breeding with coyotes is ruining the attempts to save the red wolf genetic heritage.  First the redskins and now their wolves. 

It’s probably a valid point, but it does ring a little eugenic-ky to my ears.

No trip to the zoo would be complete without seeing the powerless stingrays.  Which begs important etymological questions, such as: are they stingrays if they no longer have stingers?  Did they feel phantom stingers?  I wonder if studying “phantom stinger” phenonmena is a valid graduate study?

And yes, I touched them.  I did not feed them though.  I must give those enslaved zoo woman something to do. 

(According to Jaime the stingray’s mouth is like a vacuum.  They’ll suck the shrimp right out of your hand.  Which explains why everyone jumped as they feed them.)

[*That is, if it rains anytime soon and forces all my “friends” in-doors for the weekend.]

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