The next one is free
Jun. 14th, 2009 12:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgMade my way to the zoo again today for a walk and some furry action. I find myself motivated by many things, amongst them the desire to make the most of the winter sun. That's three trips now (and a 10% discount on a red panda puppet), so I've made back the cost of my Zoo Friend membership. The rest is gravy :-)
Today I also got to jump the queue. Not much of a queue, for there was only a single group ahead of me by the time the people with passes were picked out and passed through, but I felt all special and a child muttered "She walked in without paying!" And of course I was alone, which immediately marked me as odd.
I find myself increasingly unable to keep silence. With some of the worse cases of ignorance I feel the urge to flash my card and announce my authority as a Zoo Friend to correct the mis-education being visited upon children by mis-informed guardians. I've done no flashing, but have done some correcting and/or identifying. Who could stand by and listen to someone damn African Hunting Dogs as hyenas? I stayed my tongue when Some Guy explained that they rolled in their own poo before hunting and that they could be smelled from miles away. They might roll in someone else's poo before a hunt but probably not their own. If they're bonding they might roll in each others' poo... I walked away from the potentially great poo debate.
Note to self 1: I am not a Zoo Docent.
Note to self 2: Social skills. Use them.
It felt reasonable to identify a numbat to a puzzled mother (the child made a pretty good guess with "wallaby"), but I was very good and didn't even cough politely when someone thought a poteroo was a sugar glider. I find myself in perfect agreement that many small Australian mammals are basically "rat things" so you'll get no helpful counter-arguments from me.
Safe forms of interaction seem to include pointing out to people where creatures are hiding in their enclosures. Being patient and quiet I found most of the beasties in the nocturnal house and could point them out to others as they arrived through the one-way paths. I didn't say "Shhhh! (FFS)" once, although I did volunteer the information that flash photography was probably not permitted and would just bounce off the glass anyway. In my defence this was in reply to a vocalised "I wonder if I can use my flash in here?" I did nothing at all when several small girls started screaming excitedly at the sight of a stationary spider behind glass, although I beat a hasty retreat when one started shouting "I think I'm going to spew! I think I'm going to spew!"
The old bird section is a mere shadow of its former self and seems nearly derelict. I had a few nice moments with a palm squirrel who approached to within a couple of feet. One of the large blue and yellow parrots (I didn't check but perhaps a maccaw?) seemed about to get quite chatty after I sat with it for a while, but the usual large noisy party came through and broke the mood. Not toddlers this time, but bogans.
I wandered through the small primate section, which pressed the right small furry animal buttons, and there were cute babies to boot. Quite a few people voluntarily pointed out the location of difficult-to-find animals for me; I like this behaviour :-) . "Can you see it?" also seems to be an acceptable ice-breaker in this environment. I recommend it as a conversation practice-piece for shy people.
As for animal spotting, it's quite efficient to look in the same direction anyone is photographing. At the other end of the lens is either an animal or possibly (but less likely) an interesting plant. Or a terrorist target. Maybe. Fellow tourists tend to be on the outside of the enclosures. I have not yet volunteered to photograph pairs of strangers, but I've done it before and will no doubt do it again. I can always flash my Zoo Friend card to reassure them. It's sturdy opaque plastic with photographic ID and a barcode - it looks terribly official :-)
Third time lucky with the otters, although they were only mildly active and the enclosure was surrounded and not well organised for extended observation. They're getting a new enclosure which might explain the recent absences, and perhaps there will be better viewing options. Two of them failed to show interest in food, which caused some discussion amongst keepers. Again perhaps the capital works are upsetting them.
Speaking of works, the giraffe viewing platform is back in business and today two of the small ones were out. Spotted the cheetah (boom TISH).
Quick glance at the sun bears. Yep, there they are. They interest me not at all. Too big for small furry animal status; too small for large furry animal status? Boringly omniverous? Too much like a large ugly dog? It's a puzzle I shall have to contemplate. I do not yet understand all my preferences. My dislike of large primates is easy: a combination of valley-of-the-uncanny effects and the crude behaviour of most human zoo visitors. I feel shame for my species when I see a cage of apes. And if the cage of apes are flinging poo in revenge, I just want to get the hell out of there.
Finally, a few relatively quiet minutes withmy the red panda, then back down the hill.
I still have plenty in reserve: wetland birds, reptiles, conservation projects, more penguin action, and plenty of new places to sit and watch. It's a very good cure for cabin fever. It will be interesting to note the progression of zoo blog entries. I assume they'll become shorter, but perhaps I'll start to talk to the keepers and guides more and learn more information that way. My first goal is to get to know the grounds a bit better so I can find any animal from any point. The ground changes all the time for maintenance and development, so these goal posts are moving.
I did overdo it today *sigh* but a smallish part of the point of going to the zoo is for exercise, just in case all my years of spoon-management experience are letting me down and I should be pushing a bit harder right now. I think my years of experience are doing just fine, but I insist on pushing the envelope. I don't *like* the envelope. I suspect tomorrow I won't be able to fight my way out of the envelope.
Today I also got to jump the queue. Not much of a queue, for there was only a single group ahead of me by the time the people with passes were picked out and passed through, but I felt all special and a child muttered "She walked in without paying!" And of course I was alone, which immediately marked me as odd.
I find myself increasingly unable to keep silence. With some of the worse cases of ignorance I feel the urge to flash my card and announce my authority as a Zoo Friend to correct the mis-education being visited upon children by mis-informed guardians. I've done no flashing, but have done some correcting and/or identifying. Who could stand by and listen to someone damn African Hunting Dogs as hyenas? I stayed my tongue when Some Guy explained that they rolled in their own poo before hunting and that they could be smelled from miles away. They might roll in someone else's poo before a hunt but probably not their own. If they're bonding they might roll in each others' poo... I walked away from the potentially great poo debate.
Note to self 1: I am not a Zoo Docent.
Note to self 2: Social skills. Use them.
It felt reasonable to identify a numbat to a puzzled mother (the child made a pretty good guess with "wallaby"), but I was very good and didn't even cough politely when someone thought a poteroo was a sugar glider. I find myself in perfect agreement that many small Australian mammals are basically "rat things" so you'll get no helpful counter-arguments from me.
Safe forms of interaction seem to include pointing out to people where creatures are hiding in their enclosures. Being patient and quiet I found most of the beasties in the nocturnal house and could point them out to others as they arrived through the one-way paths. I didn't say "Shhhh! (FFS)" once, although I did volunteer the information that flash photography was probably not permitted and would just bounce off the glass anyway. In my defence this was in reply to a vocalised "I wonder if I can use my flash in here?" I did nothing at all when several small girls started screaming excitedly at the sight of a stationary spider behind glass, although I beat a hasty retreat when one started shouting "I think I'm going to spew! I think I'm going to spew!"
The old bird section is a mere shadow of its former self and seems nearly derelict. I had a few nice moments with a palm squirrel who approached to within a couple of feet. One of the large blue and yellow parrots (I didn't check but perhaps a maccaw?) seemed about to get quite chatty after I sat with it for a while, but the usual large noisy party came through and broke the mood. Not toddlers this time, but bogans.
I wandered through the small primate section, which pressed the right small furry animal buttons, and there were cute babies to boot. Quite a few people voluntarily pointed out the location of difficult-to-find animals for me; I like this behaviour :-) . "Can you see it?" also seems to be an acceptable ice-breaker in this environment. I recommend it as a conversation practice-piece for shy people.
As for animal spotting, it's quite efficient to look in the same direction anyone is photographing. At the other end of the lens is either an animal or possibly (but less likely) an interesting plant. Or a terrorist target. Maybe. Fellow tourists tend to be on the outside of the enclosures. I have not yet volunteered to photograph pairs of strangers, but I've done it before and will no doubt do it again. I can always flash my Zoo Friend card to reassure them. It's sturdy opaque plastic with photographic ID and a barcode - it looks terribly official :-)
Third time lucky with the otters, although they were only mildly active and the enclosure was surrounded and not well organised for extended observation. They're getting a new enclosure which might explain the recent absences, and perhaps there will be better viewing options. Two of them failed to show interest in food, which caused some discussion amongst keepers. Again perhaps the capital works are upsetting them.
Speaking of works, the giraffe viewing platform is back in business and today two of the small ones were out. Spotted the cheetah (boom TISH).
Quick glance at the sun bears. Yep, there they are. They interest me not at all. Too big for small furry animal status; too small for large furry animal status? Boringly omniverous? Too much like a large ugly dog? It's a puzzle I shall have to contemplate. I do not yet understand all my preferences. My dislike of large primates is easy: a combination of valley-of-the-uncanny effects and the crude behaviour of most human zoo visitors. I feel shame for my species when I see a cage of apes. And if the cage of apes are flinging poo in revenge, I just want to get the hell out of there.
Finally, a few relatively quiet minutes with
I still have plenty in reserve: wetland birds, reptiles, conservation projects, more penguin action, and plenty of new places to sit and watch. It's a very good cure for cabin fever. It will be interesting to note the progression of zoo blog entries. I assume they'll become shorter, but perhaps I'll start to talk to the keepers and guides more and learn more information that way. My first goal is to get to know the grounds a bit better so I can find any animal from any point. The ground changes all the time for maintenance and development, so these goal posts are moving.
I did overdo it today *sigh* but a smallish part of the point of going to the zoo is for exercise, just in case all my years of spoon-management experience are letting me down and I should be pushing a bit harder right now. I think my years of experience are doing just fine, but I insist on pushing the envelope. I don't *like* the envelope. I suspect tomorrow I won't be able to fight my way out of the envelope.
