One Good Shot: DonkeyFace

I was walking back home after visiting the Amazonia exhibit (and more on that soon) when I noticed that the “Kids’ Farm” animals were much more social than usual. That is, they were much more social with people than usual; they always seem pretty friendly with one another. The alpacas were allowing themselves to be petted, the goats, while mainly fascinated by a barrel, evinced some interest in visitors, and the donkeys were extremely curious about the human guests. I’m really not sure if this donkey wanted to be petted, wanted something to eat, or wanted to bite somebody—but it made a good photo, and I just take the pictures…

{A note: I do write all text and take all pictures. Please do not reproduce either without my permission.}

Even in DC...

…It sometimes snows. Having been born and raised in Michigan and having lived in Boston for a number of years, I have a certain degree of cheerful scorn for the panic with which people in and around the District respond to a whole four to five inches of snow. Nevertheless, I concede that it is fairly hard to get around here when it snows even a little, since nobody seems to have any idea what to do about this white stuff falling from the sky. Except the animals at the zoo, of course.

Not all of the animals are outside when it snows; the lions and tigers, for example, are kept in, and some warmer-weather creatures like the lemurs and anteaters and small-clawed otters have been kept in warmer indoor areas for over a month now. But most of the residents of the Kids’ farm stay out and about, although they don’t always look too thrilled about it:


And of course, there’s always wild wildlife to be seen:


But what impressed me yesterday was seeing the panda, lolling about outside--although, admittedly, not in the snow:


--And, most of all, the red panda, who was curled up unconcernedly on a branch as the snow started…


…and who stayed there as the snow continued falling, its thick fur protecting it from the cold:

{A note: I do write all text and take all pictures. Please do not reproduce either without my permission.}

"Petting Zoo"

The zoo very wisely calls it the “Kids’ Farm,” thus lowering expectations that anyone will be able to pet anything. And it is highly unlikely that a visitor will be able to pet anything: the rabbits are always untouchable in their protected shed, and the donkeys, cows, alpacas and goats tend to stay under trees, or in the middle of the grass, or in the center of their enclosures, meditatively chewing in the fashion of ruminants and exhibiting no interest whatsoever in being caressed by small children (or adults, for that matter).

The people, on the other hand, are full of excitement, and, having overheard a number of parent-child conversations, I’m left wondering if kids are taught at an early age to point and exclaim self-evidently, “Look! A cow!”—or if we all have an atavistic need to share the pleasure of seeing something with others by informing them of what they’re already seeing for themselves. (Sometimes we like to do it by asking a question, like, “Do you see the goat?!”) It also makes me curious about the way that we—myself included—react to the approach of an animal by saying, “Hello, [insert animal name here].” Is it a knee-jerk courtesy, like saying “bless you” when someone sneezes? Is it evidence of our desire for inter-species connection? Do we imagine the animals have any idea what we’re talking about?

But the petting zoo—excuse me, “kids’ farm”—is a lot of fun, since it’s entertaining (at least, for an urbanite like me) to watch the behaviors of even relatively common animals like these domestic ones. It’s fun to see the donkeys gnawing intently on logs, the goats raise their heads in unison at the sound of a car stereo blasting on Rock Creek Parkway, the newly sheared alpacas lounging luxuriously in the grass.

["Did you hear that awful music, Gladys?"
"Terrible! I prefer Lady BaaBaa myself."]

Plus, the goats have a little play-set to clamber around on, and there is almost nothing better than seeing goats hanging out on equipment you remember from fourth-grade recess.


Well, seeing the goats butt the brats you remember from fourth-grade recess: that would be even better.