Word On The Street, You Got Something To Show Me

I don't get many opportunities to see peacocks, but at the Cincinnati Zoo, they roam the grounds at their own leisure.  I'd never seen a peacock show his feathers, so I had hoped that, before we left for the day, we might see one shake what his peacock mama gave him. 

After plenty who had no interest in showing off...

  

And one poor fella who tried so hard but didn't have much to show...

As we were preparing to leave the zoo, we heard the tell-tale rattle and coo of a peacock who was in the mood and ready to find himself a fun-loving peafowl. 

He was feisty, to be sure.  He'd managed to chase a lady bird into a small, semi-fenced enclosure, and, tail proudly displayed, proceeded to follow her around the pen, vibrating his feathers and clucking in a way I'm sure he thought was seductive, but really made him come across as every relentlessly skeevey guy you've ever met in a bar. 

Girlie was having none of it.  She'd wait until he came just close enough, then dart behind his tail, where he couldn't see her.  She scurried under a fence post, out into the zoo and away from his clumsy advances.  And he?  Well, he was left behind.  All dressed up, and no where to go.

If I Were A Moose And You Were A Cow, Would You Love Me Anyhow?

This is the Hugag.  It is a Fearsome Critter.

This is a moose.  It is also a Fearsome Critter.

There are few animals that, when I go to the zoo, I can look at from the outside and still truly know their awesome might.  One is elephants.  Another is bears.  And the moose.  Obviously.

I don't know what I'd do if I ever saw a moose in real life.  Lie down and wait for death, I suppose.  They can run up to 35 miles an hour.  Top human speed ever recorded is 30 miles an hour, but the average is only 11.  I'm... not top human.  I'm barely even average human.  There's no way I'm ever outrunning a moose.   

You might think it's silly to be afraid of something as goofy looking as a moose, but the people who spend their lives around them say that they can be more dangerous than bears.  I'll repeat that: MORE DANGEROUS THAN BEARS.  More people are killed or injured by a moose than by brown bears and black bears combined.  I imagine they all start like this:

"Hallo, Moose!  Moose, you are so big and warm and fluffy.  I just want to hug you forevOHNOGODWHY!"   

Easy precaution there, though.  Always resist the urge to hug a moose.  Fear the moose, respect the moose, and we all might get out of this alive.

That's an electric fence with a sprinkler on top.  

That's a moose lying next to a waterlogged electric fence.  Does it care?  No.  Why should it?  IT'S A MOOSE.

Glowing Like Neon Lights; Spotlights of the City Nights

I love Las Vegas, for many reasons.  I love that it exists, I love that it celebrates excess in the tackiest way possible, I love that, unless you've gone in with the silly idea that you're actually going to win money, it's a place where low expectations keep spirits high.

And I love Siegfried and Roy's Secret Garden, located behind the Mirage Hotel and Casino, just a line of trees away from the "adult" (read: naked!) pool and lounge. 

 

The German illusionists don't perform at the Mirage anymore (obviously), but their legacy remains in the form of this wildlife conservation center.  When the act closed after 13 straight years of performance, the animals from the show, used to life at the Mirage and around people, are now part of a public animal display.  In addition to the famous white tigers and lions, there are big cats of a more usual color, black panthers, a jaguar cub (complete with attentive keeper) and, curiously, a little herd of alpacas.   

(Rumor has it that somewhere on the premises is that tiger from "the incident."  But it's not like there's a sign nearby that says "AND THIS IS THE ONE THAT ATE ROY," and the keeper in the jaguar cage doesn't seem inclined to answer that kind of question, so that's a rumor that will have to remain unsubstantiated.)

"These cats are male," a keeper warns us as we enter the garden.  "You might not want to get too close to the cages.  You never know when they're going to spray."  She's dead serious, but we laugh when she says it.  We stand as close to the cages as the guard rails will let us, and so does everyone else who's come to animal watch.  Or we do, until one of the elderly orange tigers limps out of his pool, turns his back on the gathering audience, and lifts his tail.  The crowd takes a collective step backwards.  Mothers lift their slow-moving children out of the way while the able-bodied elbow each other in the fight to be the one standing the furthest from the bars.  All while the stale sulfur smell of cat urine settles in the air like an old raincoat on a coat rack. 

But the best thing about the Secret Garden, the pièce de résistance in my humble opinion, has nothing to do with the animals.  It's the large, scenic woodcut fixed to the back of the gift shop - blond wood carved and painted to depict a be-robed Siegfried and Roy leading a host of exotic animals, two by two, into the belly of a resplendent ark.  The placard on the wall beside it explains that it was crafted and donated by a group of Romanian nuns, one of them being Siegfried's own sister, a gift of thanks to the entertainers for the help given towards building the nuns a new orphanage.  The sentiment is very heartfelt but the product very... I think it might be most polite to call it "European."  The end result is so deliciously Las Vegas that it is simply not to be missed.    

I must have zoo on the brain this week.  

I haven't been to the Cincinnati Zoo in over a year, but all of my favorite Zoo Facts are about this particular zoo, so here we are.

The Cincinnati Zoo is the second oldest zoo in America, opening just 14 months after the Philadelphia Zoo, in 1875.  (If you were curious, the oldest zoo in the world is the Teirgarten Schönbrunn of Vienna, built in 1752.)  What is now the Reptile House, but was built to be the Cat House, is the oldest zoo building still standing, the last remaining building from it's opening year.  This building, along with the architectural significance of  the onion-domed elephant house, marked the Cincy Zoo for the national historic registry.  There's even a plaque nestled in the bushes outside the old building, listing it's proud achievement.

(Of course, the reason the Cincinnati Zoo became the important zoo it is today is because it was one of the first, if not THE first, zoos to do away with the confining and claustrophobic animal houses and menagerie-type exhibits in favor of the more naturally spacious "habitat" enclosures. Better for the animals, and a little bit thrilling for visitors to see them "in the wild.)   

And if you go to Cincinnati, be sure to visit Martha.  Martha, named for Martha Washington, was a passenger pigeon, the last surviving Passenger Pigeon in the world, and she died in her hut in 1914 at the ripe old age of 29.  Her home has since been transformed into a memorial aviary, complete with the history of America's brutal slaughtering of every wild Passenger Pigeon in the country.  But don't feel squeamish - Martha's not there.  Her body was immediately sent to the Smithsonian.  I understand she's no longer on display, and is in an archive...somewhere.

There are birds on display, however.  There's Incus, the last of the Carolina Parakeets, who died in this same aviary a mere four years after Martha's passing.  There are also three stuffed Passenger Pigeons, including "Buttons," the last wild pigeon, shot by an Ohio farm boy  protecting his corn.

I Went to the Animal Fair; The Birds and Beasts Were There

Hey, remember when I said I went to the zoo, ages and ages ago?  What ever happened to that?

I'd been to the Columbus Zoo before, but there's a polar bear exhibit there now that wasn't there before.  So we brush past Jack Hannah's face on posters and follow the big footprints up the hill to the place where white giants roam.

The remarkable thing about this exhibit is that it used to be a church.  And though they've trussed up the outside of the building with wood panels and "arctic supplies," once you've seen what it was, it can't be unseen.  Look closer - you can even tell where they would have hung the cross.

The congregation is still there, they've just moved to a lot closer to the street.  If you stand at the highest point of the exhibit and look towards the entrance, you can see the new church, one lonely little building sandwiched in between parking lots and animal signs.

Don't be too sad about it, though.  The zoo and that church have a long, happily entwined relationship.  It's Mr. Hannah's home church, after all, and the zoo used to let the church have their Easter Sunday sunrise service in the park.  I'm sure the church enjoys the new home.  And perhaps the polar bears are comforted to know they're walking on blessed grounds.    

If you follow the signs to the mine shaft, you'll end up below the exhibit, at the underwater viewing area.  For a brief moment, when we first walk into the glass bubble, a big, white, polar bear butt brushes across the ceiling before it disappears.  We wait for him to come back, but he's long gone, off to seek shady refuge for an afternoon nap.  All that's left behind are the fish, swimming through the clouds like Atmospheric Beasts.