Animal Magic

The missus and I went to the zoo yesterday afternoon.  It was one of those meandering, largely aimless weekends, which although initially fun, starts to drag a bit come Sunday afternoon.  We needed some structure, so I suggested we pop along to poke fun at the furry inmates for a few expensive hours.

And expensive is what it proved to be.  Forty-eight quid just to get in the door.  And you can't stare at primates for four solid hours without a mug of tea or two, so that's another few pound crow-barred out of the hapless visitor.  Still, it's only once in a blue moon, so what the hell.

As with most things in life, the best bits weren't as the marketing people would have you believe.  The lions, tigers etc. tend to be rather underwhelming in my, extensive, zoo experience.  They're felines, and as anyone who'd owned a cat will testify, the genus is famed for its ability to sleep.  They do like a nap, your big cat.  Chances are then, whatever time of day you pitch-up, the giant mogster is wont to flat out on his back, with crosses for eyes.

No, the best viewing is to be found elsewhere - the butterfly house for example.  Did you know there's a transparent species of bf?  Me neither.  There is though.  It's tiny and for the most part see-through.  There's just a faint dash of visible pigment along the outline of its minute wings.  A beautiful and extraordinary animal.  Also, you're able to wander around their environment, as they flit and go about their business, oblivious to your presence.

After the butterflies, it's off to watch the bats.  Bat's, like big cats, do enjoy their sleep, but the bat house is darkened to make the leathery flappers think it's time for school.  There is something amazingly eerie about watching a large bat fly.  Something about it just strikes one as wrong.  The most entertaining thing they get up to, however, clambers around the ceiling of their roost.  The ceiling is lined with a metal grid; this allows the bs to walk along it, upside down.  They have hooks on the ends of their limbs to facilitate this.  It's very engaging viewing.

And finally, you simply have to see the monkeys.  And I do mean the monkeys.  I can take or leave the great apes.  The show never matches the billing when it comes to apes.  And their enclosures are always too crowded with punters to be fun.  Stick with the little primates.

The squirrel monkeys are absolutely charming.  But the best exhibit was the mangabeys.  We spent a precious and joyful ten minutes watching a mother mangabey  unsuccessfully try and teach her baby daughter, Delilah, how to eat a root.  Delilah only had eyes for the teat though.  Eventually mum caved in and allowed her to suckle.  All this took place about two feet from where we were stood.  We could see all the tenderness that makes even small primates like these chaps seem so human: the eye contact, the caresses, the hugging.  It was priviledge to witness.