Category Washington

Interacting with Giraffes

February 26, 2014 Comments Off read Attractions, Everything is Terrible, Pacific, Travel, USA, Washington, West

This past summer, I visited the Woodland Park Zoo for the first time. It’s a good zoo: the animals have plenty of room, look healthy, and even better, they offer animal interaction where you can feed elephants and giraffes. I love getting close to animals and seeing the texture of their skin, feel the whooshes of their breath, watch their eyelashes flutter, their lips quiver toward a treat. I am in awe of their presence, their majesty. I love the noises they make, from the Jurassic Park screech of a Japanese crane to the rumble of a tiger. I love seeing the sun glint off their fur, watching their muscles rippling under their skin, and acclimating my eyes to the nocturnal areas to watch a bat spread its wings.

I know you’re not supposed to like zoos if you profess to love animals. Or circuses. Or basically any animal-based entertainment. And I do understand that. I don’t want animals to be tortured for my entertainment, and there are examples of all of these things that show that some humans are incredibly cruel, or stupid, or both. But I also believe that it’s possible for zoos to be run well, for the animals to be treated with exemplary care, and for the displays themselves to be educational and spark a desire in humans to love and protect the animals and habitats we otherwise so readily destroy. That the physical reality of the animal can forge a connection that a photograph in a book or on a screen cannot.

I was, and remain, deeply upset about the killing of Marius the giraffe in the Copenhagen Zoo. He was still a baby and was yet deemed ‘surplus’ and as such was slaughtered and fed to the lions. He wasn’t so extraneous when he was still small and could bring in tourist money, but now that he was older and no longer a draw, suddenly his dismemberment could be “an educational experience”. If the role of zoos is to protect these animals, it makes no sense to kill one and call it education. The zoo claims that they needed to kill him to combat inbreeding, but a simple castration could have solved that issue and he could have lived a long and healthy life. Other zoos offered to take him in. Private buyers offered to take him off of the Copenhagen Zoo’s hands. But instead of protecting his life, they made a glorified sideshow out of his death.

I realized that as I came across these photos, I couldn’t just post them now in light of Marius’ needless death without commenting on my participation in giraffe tourism. I’m trying to be more vigilant about which businesses get my dollars when animals are involved. Sometimes I make the right choices, and sometimes I make wrong ones; I hope I make the right choices more often than not.

One of the first places we visited in the zoo was the insect area, a place which I find both fascinating and repellent. I’m often simultaneously filled with the urge to go “ooooh” and “ewww” at the same time, finding myself flailing when I feel something imaginary skitter over my neck and practically moaning in despair when I see that they keep one of their spiders out in the open, saying that she “has no reason to go anywhere”. Oh yeah? Someday she might find a reason. Someday when I’m near the exhibit. I don’t want to be involved in any sort of spider-related incident.

I don’t know how going into a little hole in the wall makes you a dung beetle, but I’ll go with it. It’s definitely better than “Here, be a dung beetle and roll around this giant turd!”

I’ve caught about 1,000 of these in Animal Crossing.

This picture is poor even by my standards but I love that little fuzzy Japanese crane baby.

What does the fox say? “I’m pretty tired of your shit, guys.”

I’m actually pretty certain that there’s a similar photo of me with a carrot or a hot dog out there somewhere.

Sometime after lunch, our group split up–most everyone wanted to see the educational display of a bear going after a picnic basket’s contents because they were pretty sure it was going to be total carnage (you know, in an educational fashion), but I felt strongly that if I didn’t feed an elephant a leafy branch when given the opportunity that I might die. We knew that the animal interactions were an extra fee, but we didn’t know that this extra fee was cash only, resulting in a scramble through the park, looking for an ATM.

It was totally worth it. Aaagh just looking at these pictures makes me want to give this elephant forehead kisses (I am not suited to survival in the wild, being cared for by a nanny society has worked out in my favor) but I had to settle for feeding it a shoot from a what was essentially a magic wand for elephant treats.

Accio Treato!

After we waited in line to meet the elephant, we waited in line to meet and feed some giraffes, because this zoo understands the importance of feeding a hungry giraffe, unlike the Racine Zoo. They allow you to feed the giraffes directly from your hand, but warn you that as much as you might like to pet them, they do not want to be petted. It took an extraordinary amount of willpower on my part to not attempt to touch a giraffe, but I managed to follow instructions, unlike one of the kids in our group. He had initially impressed the zookeeper with his knowledge and questions, but tried to feed the giraffe with one hand and pet it with the other on the side the zookeeper couldn’t see. I did find it immensely gratifying to watch the giraffe’s head snap back and have her give the kid a look like “You, sir, have violated our feeding agreement and I am extraordinarily disappointed in you,” mainly because that look was not directed at me. We also made certain to take some time to see the baby sloth bears, and we were rewarded with sloth bear roughhousing. Of course, I can’t see two adolescents fighting without immediately thinking of Arrested Development, so I give you BOYFIGHTS: Sloth Bears.

A hike to Blue Lake

February 24, 2014 Comments Off read Pacific, The Great Outdoors, Travel, USA, Washington, West

In late October, we got a collective bug up our butts to take a hike before it was too late in the season. As an intrepid last minute planner and avid indoorswoman, I did an internet search for “fall hike Washington” and found a description of Blue Lake, which sounded lovely. “Imagine a short and easy hike to a beautiful, deep blue lake. Add in views of several stunning North Cascade peaks. Then ring the lake electric yellow of larches. Sound good? If so, definitely add this hike to your October larch march.” Sound good? It sounded great. Of course, when we arrived, we were completely and utterly unprepared for it to be the frozen pass of Mount Caradhras. I swear, you could almost hear Saruman laughing at us from on high. But damn it, we were there to hike, and we were going to hike, adverse weather conditions or no adverse weather conditions.

The hike itself was fairly easy, even in the snow. There were only a few patches where the path was muddy or icy; the worst bit was when it got icy and there was a steep drop-off to one side, so we made sure to go slow and cling to the wall so as not to have our corpses become a warning for others. I mean, yes, I live my life as a warning to others, and I imagine my death will do the same, I’m just not ready for it yet. Ostensibly, it’s called Blue Lake for the color of the lake. I can’t verify this, as the lake was frozen over on our trip. Next time I go, it will have to be in August/September so as to see for myself.

Since we found ourselves with a lot of unexpected snow, the only proper way to deal with it was to make snow angels. I may have had a numb butt for the rest of the day, but it was totally worth it.

One of these things is lying. I’m not sure which.

On the hike back to the car, it started to snow, so we redoubled our efforts to get back faster, as we didn’t have chains for the car. It was fall, it’s frankly a miracle that we had hats and gloves. It was definitely a beautiful hike, just not the hike we were expecting. Damn you, Saruman!

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Snohomish Slew, we’re counting on you!

February 3, 2014 Comments Off read Attractions, Pacific, Travel, USA, Washington, West

This weekend, we attended GroundFrog day, the Snohomish mini festival of frogs. On GroundFrog Day, noted Frognosticator Snohomish Slew informs the general public, in Jason’s words, “If he sees his shadow, uh, there’s six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t…something about spring.” That’s not exactly the case; unlike other weather-predicting animals, Snohomish Slew’s aren’t shadow-based. Instead, if he croaks, spring is coming, and if he sits in silence, we’re in for six more weeks of froggy, soggy Pacific Northwest winter. We arrived early enough so we could stake out a spot directly in front of the gazebo so we wouldn’t miss a second of what was certain to be intense weather-predicting action.

Jason had been looking forward to GroundFrog day all week, excitedly counting down the days, and telling all of his coworkers our weekend plans. I was quite excited myself. I only found out about the possibility of the event by chance in January while idly scanning Roadside America; I ended up calling the Just Frogs center to find out if there was actually an event this year. Slew’s handler (who speaks fluent Frogese), told me that not only was there an event this year, but that Slew was “fat, happy, and raring to go”. Topping the scales at over four pounds, Slew was ready to go, but since his prediction takes less than a minute, there needed to be a bit more hoopla in order to get people to gather. Hoopla like hula-hoops, and a Frog Princess, Amphibiana.

Amphibiana arrives in her green mustang.

If looks could kill…

Now, I don’t know about the Frog Princess selection process, but I can tell you for a fact that Amphibiana is not the people’s princess. If she wasn’t rolling her eyes and scowling, she was making it clear that it pained her deeply to be present, and that she was far too cool to be associated with a weather-predicting frog. I’m certain it hurt Slew’s feelings every time she wiped off his kisses with a grimace. After Princess Sourpuss arrived, there were a number of songs and dances: about alligators, about Slew, about funny bones, and one that I’m pretty sure was just gibberish.

In general, I don’t mind song and dance numbers, but I’m not into group sing-alongs of songs I don’t know, especially songs that make the singers sound like jackasses, and the songs that are designed for group sing-alongs are ALWAYS written to make the singers sound like jackasses. Don’t believe me? I dare you to tunelessly sing “He’s a hip-hoppin’ rip-roppin’ ribbedy-roo” the next time you’re in a public place and see what kind of looks you get. The other thing that bothered me is that the older gentleman singer seemed awfully focused on “the young girls” in the audience, continually asking them to come up and dance, to do a little dance for him, asking what they thought (nobody else, just “the young girls”), asking them to hold his hands “because they’re cold”…it was creepy. Here’s the legend of Seattle Slew, pulled from the GroundFrog Day website:

“Long before settlers arrived and named a snow-capped volcano “Mount Rain Here!”, and long before Lewis and Clark discovered half-caf lattes, came the legend of Snohomish Slew. Seeking to find an enchanted kingdom, the frog (fresh from tadpole graduation, as legend tells us) hopped his way across the country to the Pacific Northwest. The frog’s quest was to find a luscious, green, year-round climate with plenty of food and fauna. Once there, winter hibernation would be a thing of the past. Preferably, this frog wanted to escape the doldrums of amphibian slumber, the melancholy caused by relentless French epicureans, and absorb the sleepless in Seattle lifestyle. Following the paths blazed by migrating sheepherders over the Continental Divide, the frog queried many of Mother Nature’s creatures along this great journey, asking for directions along the quest. Sasquatch told the frog to seek the land between Mount Rain Here and Mount Pilchuck, where a great waterfall spills into a river with great variety of life. The wild pigs that ran naked in the forest told the frog to seek the valley where the river runs pink with salmon. The majestic Bald Eagle told the frog to look for a place near a great estuary where other eagles, hawks and songbirds sing all the livelong day. There, close to a great bay, will be the soggy and foggy land that lends itself to frog frolicking and frog play. A stately white tailed buck told the frog to follow the river to a place where muskrats and river otters play Marco Polo with steelhead. Additionally, the buck warned the frog to stay away from migration trails and to never look into oncoming lights at night. Continuing along the way, the frog encountered other creatures that provided direction and advice. A rookery of Blue Heron passed on eating the frog in exchange for the frog’s promise to create a large pond or pool of scum and many other happy frogs. They told the frog to seek the place where mushrooms and toad stools grow taller than yard gnomes. The raccoons instructed the frog to find the valley where slugs roam freely in herds like great Bison on the plains. The possum told the frog to seek a place where two rivers meet with a warm, dark lake, full of stocked fish. They too warned the frog about crossing migration trails at night. The raven told the frog to look for a place in the valley, rich in compost and pumpkins, with that unique and distinct smell of agriculture. The mystical Weedle on the Needle instructed the frog to seek a place where beavers carved a great archway into a Cedar tree and to look for the critters of the region who caper on through it. The grizzly bear encouraged the frog to seek land close to his brethren Silvertips. Wild Rabbit, in the nearby briar patch, told the frog to hop through the forest, gather up the field mice and bop them on the head. Finally, the lonely, half-humped moose was able to lead the frog to the site that best matched all of the previous descriptions. The moose took the frog to oracle with the wise, old, spotted owl. It was there the owl, that great keeper of the forest, ended the frog’s quest into amphibian nirvana. The owl told the frog to make home on the shores of the river known as “Snow-home-ish” which, translated from the native dialect, meant “Great waters for micro-brewing”. After the long and life expanding journey, the frog hopped to the shore of this great river and passed through the great cedar archway. The locals met the frog with shouts of “Kla Ha Ya” which meant “Welcome to the antique, wedding capital and upcoming brewing center of the Pacific Northwest”. This date was set into providence, and on February 2 (or Saturday closest to) of each year the locals celebrate the frog’s great journey with Ground Frog Day, in which the natives reach out to others seeking nirvana and greet them with the Kla Ha Ya traditional shout. Local myth, as “toad” down from generation to generation, about the magic of Snohomish Slew dictates that, on this date, he who rubs the tummy of frogs shall be rewarded with 6 weeks of luck and joins in the celebration of GroundFrog Day to hear Slew predict 6 more weeks of foggy, soggy weather or an early arrival of Spring with drizzly rainbow filled skies. Just the way any frog would expect in our Pacific Northwest Nirvana.”

Why didn’t they tell the legend of Slew instead of singing the wibble-wobble-jibble-jobble song? It would have been far more interesting and relevant. Jason agrees: “I wanted to know more about Slew, not his rip-rip-ribbedy-doo.” Plus, where was the tummy rubbing and the traditional shouting? I would have much rather participated in a shouting activity than a singing activity!

While we waited for Slew to arrive in his firetruck convoy (I guess the city of Snohomish just crosses its collective fingers and hopes for no fires?), and tried to ignore the creepy overtures of Mr. Ribbedy Doo, this enormous dog picked up the slack by wandering around and leaning his bulk against anyone and everyone, eventually knocking down a kid. Once the kid was down, the dog then tried to sit on him. In this instance, I think that the dog could have saved his ramming action for the old man who decided it would be cool to cut directly in front me to get closer to the gazebo, which makes no sense as he was at least a foot taller than me and would have had no issues seeing the stage, whereas my view changed to a bunch of liver spots. Get him, bear dog!

Eventually Slew arrived to great fanfare, and was held up to the microphone to give us his frognostication for the coming weeks. The whole crowd held its breath in anticipation and waited. Princess Sourpuss pulled a face.

And waited. And waited. Stony silence from Slew, which means six more miserable weeks. I’m not trying to blame the messenger, I would have just appreciated some good news. Instead, I blame Princess Sourpuss wiping off his kisses: it’s hard to be cheerful and talkative when you’re living a lie in the public eye. You can do better, Snohomish Slew. You can do better.