Sunday, October 17, 2004
It's going to take quite some time...
Don’t you love the onset of cool weather?
There are only about fifteen perfect days every year in Houston, days in which the humidity, temperature, and weather all conspire to grant a respite to the city’s beleaguered A/C units and give them some much needed time off. These days are rare, so you learn not to squander them. Saturday was such day – no day to be indoors, to be certain. So, we decided to go see the new baby elephant down at the Houston Zoo. We got there early, knowing that the magnificent blue skies overhead would draw many parents and children. The elephant, Bella is her name, is quite cute and enjoys playing with a bamboo wind chime made for her by one of her keepers.
I’ve always found the zoo to be very interesting, fun, and yet, especially as I have grown older, a little sad. It’s always sad to see animals in cages, but these days the zoo mostly has endangered, injured, or maladjusted animals that have nowhere else safe to live. Also, the habitats have improved exponentially since I was little – no longer are they small wire cages with plain dirt floors or stinky, cramped terrariums. No, the true source of my sadness does not lie in the “plight of the animals”, fancy though it may sound.
We stopped for some time at the ring-tailed lemur habitat (my favorite, and very apropos considering the avatar of this blog). The red-faced lemur (who shared the habitat) was lounging about, in easy view, under some cattails. He was playing with straw. The ring-tails were more difficult to see, resting on the far side of a log and digging in the dirt for grubs. I watched them for some time, only able to see chance movements: the flick of a tail, a glimpse of a snout for a few moments. Other people would come by, stop for a few seconds and then proclaim, “Oh, this one must be empty. Come on, let’s go.”
I wondered. Did they not, at least, see the red-faced lemur? He was slightly camouflaged in the shade of the cattails, but otherwise in plain sight. And, though the ring-tails were harder to see, it only took a few seconds to find them. That is, if you bothered to look. That’s when I realized why the zoo always makes me a little sad: people always rush, and can’t be bothered to slow down, look, feel, and understand. Not even today, relaxing at the zoo, on the most glorious day the city has seen in months.
Never mind that, I said to myself, and we watched the hidden antics of the ring-tails for quite some time. In the end, one of the lemurs emerged, waved hello, and then returned to his digging. He understands, I thought to myself, and I think maybe, just maybe, I’m beginning to understand as well.
There are only about fifteen perfect days every year in Houston, days in which the humidity, temperature, and weather all conspire to grant a respite to the city’s beleaguered A/C units and give them some much needed time off. These days are rare, so you learn not to squander them. Saturday was such day – no day to be indoors, to be certain. So, we decided to go see the new baby elephant down at the Houston Zoo. We got there early, knowing that the magnificent blue skies overhead would draw many parents and children. The elephant, Bella is her name, is quite cute and enjoys playing with a bamboo wind chime made for her by one of her keepers.
I’ve always found the zoo to be very interesting, fun, and yet, especially as I have grown older, a little sad. It’s always sad to see animals in cages, but these days the zoo mostly has endangered, injured, or maladjusted animals that have nowhere else safe to live. Also, the habitats have improved exponentially since I was little – no longer are they small wire cages with plain dirt floors or stinky, cramped terrariums. No, the true source of my sadness does not lie in the “plight of the animals”, fancy though it may sound.
We stopped for some time at the ring-tailed lemur habitat (my favorite, and very apropos considering the avatar of this blog). The red-faced lemur (who shared the habitat) was lounging about, in easy view, under some cattails. He was playing with straw. The ring-tails were more difficult to see, resting on the far side of a log and digging in the dirt for grubs. I watched them for some time, only able to see chance movements: the flick of a tail, a glimpse of a snout for a few moments. Other people would come by, stop for a few seconds and then proclaim, “Oh, this one must be empty. Come on, let’s go.”
I wondered. Did they not, at least, see the red-faced lemur? He was slightly camouflaged in the shade of the cattails, but otherwise in plain sight. And, though the ring-tails were harder to see, it only took a few seconds to find them. That is, if you bothered to look. That’s when I realized why the zoo always makes me a little sad: people always rush, and can’t be bothered to slow down, look, feel, and understand. Not even today, relaxing at the zoo, on the most glorious day the city has seen in months.
Never mind that, I said to myself, and we watched the hidden antics of the ring-tails for quite some time. In the end, one of the lemurs emerged, waved hello, and then returned to his digging. He understands, I thought to myself, and I think maybe, just maybe, I’m beginning to understand as well.
R.T. Lemur 10:50 AM
2 Comments:
Our favorites are the capybaras, the world's largest rodent.
Ah yes, the beautiful weather came and went like tomorrow's Halloween candy...