What an odd paradox a zoo is. Children eagerly and excitedly go to see animals display the nature they have learned about. The very nature zoo animals have long since forgotten. From an early age, children are taught of the ferocity crocodiles, the playfulness of baboons and the grace of swimming penguins. They learn about habitats, food chains and mating rituals. Instinct and survival. They see films of lions on the hunt, pictures of hummingbirds in mid-flight, and read stories of packs of wolves living and working together as a family.
But stories, film and pictures don’t do the animal world justice. The true scale of wild life is best taught by seeing it first hand, something that is not easy to do when living in a metropolitan area. So every day millions of children around the world visit zoos to see for themselves living specimens of the animals they’ve learned about.
Unfortunately, for a center designed to showcase animal life, within its walls there is surprisingly little of it. Sad, unresponsive animals live quietly in rooms sculpted with cement and plastic to resemble the habitat most have never seen. Their faces are soft and unemotional as they mindlessly nibble at food scattered by their zoo keepers. Their quietly captive expressions reveal their instincts have been regrettably breed out of them.
As a child I used to love to visit the zoo. I wanted to see how tall giraffes were, how big elephants were and how fast a cheetahs were. Now on the rare occasion I do visit, I try to focus on the excitement that these animals, even in their catatonic state, give to children. I desperately try to give purpose to their lives. And when I leave, I feel abundantly thankful for my own freedom.
