My Day at the Zoo.
It was a couple weeks ago that Jessy and I got bored, so we decided that the Minot Zoo was where we ought to be. So we loaded up the truck ..er.. Beetle, and headed to the land of Whooping Cough and State Fairs.
We had a grand time, as you would imagine, circling all the pitiful caged animals, feeling very glad that we weren't marmasets or lemurs or any other odd looking animals so people wouldn't throw handfuls of corn kernels in our faces. I did learn a number of things while we there, so I guess I could consider the trip as some sort of educational field trip. Allow me to enlighten you.
1.) Somebody has put a price on my head. This doesn't apply strictly to the Zoo, since the same thing happens to me at Kirkwood, or Kmart, or even just walking down the street. Soon as I start to hoofing, people automatically start heading straight for me. I don't know why this is, but I can only assume someone has put them up to it. All you have to do is run head-on with me, possibly knock me to the ground, and you get five bucks. That makes sense, right? Either that or it's my magnetic personality.
2.) There is nothing stupid enough that I won't spend my money on. Something about gift shops just does me in. If I go someplace, I have to buy something stupid. Zoos? Check. Airports? Check. Hospitals. Check. This time was no different. I now have a marionette puppet of a duck in my room that I lost interest in about five minutes after I opened it from its package. It now sits within the $12 Spider-man 2 popcorn bucket I bought when I saw that movie, which is another blog unto itself.
3.) Some people are stupid. As we were leaving, we noticed a family trying to feed a grizzly bear by hand through the bars of the cage. The Zoo, knowing that some people are stupid, had tried to prevent this by having the cage floor slant downwards from the bars so the bears couldn't get up anywhere near the people outside. This family had gotten around this by reaching through from the very far corner of the bars, where they were slightly within reach of the bears, who were more than happy to take advantage. We left before the bloody carnage, though I personally would've liked to have taken pictures. If you see a family of five in the Minot area with about seven arms between them, tell them I said hi.
4.) Giraffes are smart. There were two giraffes, who had apparantly eaten anything that could possibly be eaten within their element. To make up for this, one giraffe would stick his head out as far as he could from the bars, stick out his tongue and eat whatever grass he could. As we passed by, I sensed his desperation, put a quarter in one of the machines and threw the fellow a handful of dog food to eat, which he did gratefully. Upon moving on, I noticed that he continued with his act for everyone else that passed by, who, like me, did the exact same thing and fed him more handfuls of dog food. When the giraffe tired of this, he left and his partner took over for him. I guess they were on shifts. Giraffes are crafty that way. I wonder if the Zoo splits the quarter profits with them. 5.) Penguins copulate. Of course, I probably knew this already, but I really hadn't given it much thought. But now I've seen it with my own eyes. Here's what happened. Jessy and I, being penguin buffs, set up shop by the penguin area, because if anything of interest is going to happen at the Zoo, it's going to be done by a penguin. So we sat, and there was about 10 or 15 penguins total. Of that number, only one was actually moving. But, brother, when he moved, he entertained. He would walk around the area, pick up a rock with his beak, waddle back to his little home, where another penguin was lying down in (I'm assuming his dainty penguin bride) and he would put the rock in there with her. I'm assuming he was building her a fireplace, or possibly walling her in. But it was entertaining. Which is why I dubbed him Mr. Excitement. I consider Mr. Excitement my new best friend, even if he is a penguin and I am but a human being.
Anyway, as we're watching this, a large group of about three women and seven screaming brats wander over to watch the penguins at the same time. Since they're not moving (except for the one burying his wife), one of the kids starts yelling at the penguins to get in the water, because penguins are much more entertaining when they're swimming. The mothers, thinking this to be quite hysterical, encourage Junior to repeat the line fifteen more times, because it just keeps getting funnier. As I start to consider hopping the fence and throwing one of the penguins in just to shut the kid up, one of the penguins begins to move towards another penguin, who is in a vertical position. This catches everyone's attention, because somehow this might lead to a penguin getting into the pond, which seems to be all anyone is interested in. But instead of inviting the other penguin for a dip, this penguin proceeds to climb atop his vertical friend and, well, do his penguin thing.
This sends a hush through the crowd, leaving the mothers into a silent sort of horrified reaction. I look over at my conservative girlfriend who, like me, is stiffling a giggle. And then, as the penguins are in the heat of their penguin passion, one of the children looks back at his mother and says, "Mom, what's that penguin doing to the other penguin?"
I'm not the type to draw attention to myself. So rather than scooping up the tyke onto my lap and proceeding to give the little dickens a lesson on the birds and the bees, I just lowered my head and had a silent laughing fit under my breath, probably given away to these horrified women by my convulging backside. Looking over at Jessy, she shoots me a look that I know all too well, that old "please don't embarrass me in public" glance. So I don't, the group leaves en mass, and the penguins finish their sport and proceed to go back to doing nothing. The natural order is restored once more, and I am pleased.
I don't have any sort of life lesson to end on here, besides enouraging you to visit the Minot Zoo sometime this summer, or possibly the Dakota Zoo if you like looking at goats and cows instead of gibbons and zebras. To each his own. And, if you happen to see Mr. Excitement, revel in his antics. He truly is a star in the making.
-Erik Hagen
/Penguin love is beautiful too.
We had a grand time, as you would imagine, circling all the pitiful caged animals, feeling very glad that we weren't marmasets or lemurs or any other odd looking animals so people wouldn't throw handfuls of corn kernels in our faces. I did learn a number of things while we there, so I guess I could consider the trip as some sort of educational field trip. Allow me to enlighten you.
1.) Somebody has put a price on my head. This doesn't apply strictly to the Zoo, since the same thing happens to me at Kirkwood, or Kmart, or even just walking down the street. Soon as I start to hoofing, people automatically start heading straight for me. I don't know why this is, but I can only assume someone has put them up to it. All you have to do is run head-on with me, possibly knock me to the ground, and you get five bucks. That makes sense, right? Either that or it's my magnetic personality.
2.) There is nothing stupid enough that I won't spend my money on. Something about gift shops just does me in. If I go someplace, I have to buy something stupid. Zoos? Check. Airports? Check. Hospitals. Check. This time was no different. I now have a marionette puppet of a duck in my room that I lost interest in about five minutes after I opened it from its package. It now sits within the $12 Spider-man 2 popcorn bucket I bought when I saw that movie, which is another blog unto itself.
3.) Some people are stupid. As we were leaving, we noticed a family trying to feed a grizzly bear by hand through the bars of the cage. The Zoo, knowing that some people are stupid, had tried to prevent this by having the cage floor slant downwards from the bars so the bears couldn't get up anywhere near the people outside. This family had gotten around this by reaching through from the very far corner of the bars, where they were slightly within reach of the bears, who were more than happy to take advantage. We left before the bloody carnage, though I personally would've liked to have taken pictures. If you see a family of five in the Minot area with about seven arms between them, tell them I said hi.
4.) Giraffes are smart. There were two giraffes, who had apparantly eaten anything that could possibly be eaten within their element. To make up for this, one giraffe would stick his head out as far as he could from the bars, stick out his tongue and eat whatever grass he could. As we passed by, I sensed his desperation, put a quarter in one of the machines and threw the fellow a handful of dog food to eat, which he did gratefully. Upon moving on, I noticed that he continued with his act for everyone else that passed by, who, like me, did the exact same thing and fed him more handfuls of dog food. When the giraffe tired of this, he left and his partner took over for him. I guess they were on shifts. Giraffes are crafty that way. I wonder if the Zoo splits the quarter profits with them. 5.) Penguins copulate. Of course, I probably knew this already, but I really hadn't given it much thought. But now I've seen it with my own eyes. Here's what happened. Jessy and I, being penguin buffs, set up shop by the penguin area, because if anything of interest is going to happen at the Zoo, it's going to be done by a penguin. So we sat, and there was about 10 or 15 penguins total. Of that number, only one was actually moving. But, brother, when he moved, he entertained. He would walk around the area, pick up a rock with his beak, waddle back to his little home, where another penguin was lying down in (I'm assuming his dainty penguin bride) and he would put the rock in there with her. I'm assuming he was building her a fireplace, or possibly walling her in. But it was entertaining. Which is why I dubbed him Mr. Excitement. I consider Mr. Excitement my new best friend, even if he is a penguin and I am but a human being.
Anyway, as we're watching this, a large group of about three women and seven screaming brats wander over to watch the penguins at the same time. Since they're not moving (except for the one burying his wife), one of the kids starts yelling at the penguins to get in the water, because penguins are much more entertaining when they're swimming. The mothers, thinking this to be quite hysterical, encourage Junior to repeat the line fifteen more times, because it just keeps getting funnier. As I start to consider hopping the fence and throwing one of the penguins in just to shut the kid up, one of the penguins begins to move towards another penguin, who is in a vertical position. This catches everyone's attention, because somehow this might lead to a penguin getting into the pond, which seems to be all anyone is interested in. But instead of inviting the other penguin for a dip, this penguin proceeds to climb atop his vertical friend and, well, do his penguin thing.
This sends a hush through the crowd, leaving the mothers into a silent sort of horrified reaction. I look over at my conservative girlfriend who, like me, is stiffling a giggle. And then, as the penguins are in the heat of their penguin passion, one of the children looks back at his mother and says, "Mom, what's that penguin doing to the other penguin?"
I'm not the type to draw attention to myself. So rather than scooping up the tyke onto my lap and proceeding to give the little dickens a lesson on the birds and the bees, I just lowered my head and had a silent laughing fit under my breath, probably given away to these horrified women by my convulging backside. Looking over at Jessy, she shoots me a look that I know all too well, that old "please don't embarrass me in public" glance. So I don't, the group leaves en mass, and the penguins finish their sport and proceed to go back to doing nothing. The natural order is restored once more, and I am pleased.
I don't have any sort of life lesson to end on here, besides enouraging you to visit the Minot Zoo sometime this summer, or possibly the Dakota Zoo if you like looking at goats and cows instead of gibbons and zebras. To each his own. And, if you happen to see Mr. Excitement, revel in his antics. He truly is a star in the making.
-Erik Hagen
/Penguin love is beautiful too.
posted by Erik Hagen at 7:43 PM
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