ZOO GNUS

Dear Voracious Fellow Primates,

Several events of the utmost interest have come to this writer’s attention. Given that your appetites seem never to be sated, shall I share them here, or leave it to you to ferret them out?

Alas, like an alpha she-wolf regurgitating food for its cubs, I cannot resist the urge to share these juicy morsels. Perhaps I shall challenge you with a taste here, a bite there. It is your choice. You can rise to the challenge like a bull moose in rut or slink away into the shadowy woods like a skunk, never to be heard from again, unless your odor announces your presence.

A taste then:

Which harried blonde zookeeper of the female persuasion was seen creeping stealthily into the feed barn on her lunch hour last Tuesday? Since she is assigned to the Aquarium, this does warrant suspicion, unless a new discovery has concluded that fish thrive on fresh, dry hay? One thinks not. The hay should certainly be left to those who hunger for it, our plentiful herds of hoof stock, be they zebra, giraffe, muntjac , oryx or bongo. This alert writer also noticed a rather fishy coincidence last Tuesday at noon, the timing of which aroused suspicion. Was that the lothario, the mustachioed veterinarian himself walking casually into the hay barn soon after the aquarist in question had entered? As no known species inhabit the hay barn (except the aforementioned female human one at that portentous hour) one may ask for whom our noble vet was seeking to provide medical assistance? Or was it, indeed, that he had prescribed a gentle roll in the hay for himself and a certain aquarist?

A nibble, if you must:

Sources close to this very writer have confirmed a similarly unusual sighting over the recent long holiday break, when most of the human denizens of our zoo were at their homes partaking of holiday cheer. I shall not mention any names—nay, that is not my style—but during said holidays, when all was quiet except for the braying of the ass in the farm exhibit (no, not that unpopular curator, but the very ass himself), a similarly unexplainable visit occurred. Dear readers, you may recall that a certain office in a particular building is the lone upstairs office in that building, with a locking door at the foot of the stairs. Curiously, late one afternoon, as the sun was setting across the animal pens, a female keeper of the birds was seen entering that office building. Again, this begs the question, why? Had a bird escaped its cage, wandered into the building, and locked the door? Methinks this is doubtful, as we all know that avians lack opposable thumbs. Nevertheless, a bird keeper entered the vacant office building. Shortly thereafter, a male maintenance person was also observed entering the same building. A maintenance emergency in a vacant building on a holiday evening? Reason argues against such an occurrence. Even more strangely, a flickering light was observed in the windows of said office throughout the night. And no, it was too strong to be the light of errant fireflies, and the wrong season for those sparkling insects. Alas, early the next morning, before the sun was fully up, these same two were observed leaving said office separately. And oh, ferocious readers, dare I tell you that this same order of events was observed every night of the recent holidays? Far be it from me to lead you into supposition. I am only reporting the facts.

A tidbit, if you will:

       Tis true that in spring when the sap is rising and the buds are bursting forth, a young man’s fancy will turn to …thoughts of his female counterparts. Was this why, on a recent spring afternoon, when a certain young man, not just any young man of a lowly station, mind you, but a veritable supervisor of the horticultural department was observed working diligently at his desk in his trailer. But to what, pray tell, was this young plant fancier so attentive? Strown across said desk were not tomes of horticultural wisdom, but the lissome limbs of a certain comely female keeper of the camels. Indeed, it was she with whom our young planter was busily sowing his crop. One can only hope that said cultivator will show the same alacrity when growing flora of the plant kingdom as he does with the fauna of the animal kingdom.

A flavorful chunk:

               Fellow omnivores, when our appetites surge, is it some choice dish from the commissary that we crave, or would we rather partake of a dish more substantial than the food provided for our four-footed or feathered friends, their steady diet being of raw meat and grains or bountiful greens and carrots? Perhaps a savory sandwich with cooked meat or a sweet, creamy delight is what we desire. Nonetheless, it has been reported to this writer that a certain lass whose purview is the herpetarium, and who shall remain nameless—suffice it to say she has been known to entertain her colleagues with the odd Elvis impersonation—that very lass was seen to be feasting at the commissary in recent weeks, but she was not partaking of animal victuals. Nay, she was, to put it none-too-delicately, feasting on the lips of a fair lass who works at the commissary, and let us surmise that the spouse of this fair lass would be less than amused.

               A final scrap:

               Alas, not so gentle readers, while the previously described four tidbits are mere tantalizing pieces of the larger events taking place in our fair animal kingdom these past few weeks, I must bid you adieu with one final bit, which does not involve any of the primates among us: rather it concerns the infamous bears with the black and white coloring, who have both their admirers and their detractors, it is sad to say. When a certain female of this species—her name is withheld, as per usual, but since she is the only female of this species residing here, you may be able to parse out her identity—this female had, shall we say, come into her time of favor in recent weeks—she was encouraged to engage with a male of her species. Again, alert readers may have figured out his identity as he is, like her, the only one of his sex in this particular species residing here. Engagement was attempted, valiantly, by these two, but sadly, as has been common with them, it came to naught. In sympathy for them, I ask you, could you have successfully engaged with another of your species who caught your fancy, with a group of men with notebooks, cameras, and stethoscopes swarming around you, monitoring your every move? Most unlikely dear readers, most unlikely. Would that the black and white bears had had the private circumstances of our previous three tidbits; perhaps then, their efforts would have been rewarded.

               With that, I leave you until I next write to ponder what may be the future of all of our species, and indeed, of your own.

Sincerely,

Your Primate Sribe