Zoo Use 101
Do you truly see animals at the zoo? A while back, on a visit tothe J. Paul Getty Museum in Santa Monica, I overheard a tourguide say the average time spent looking at a work of art in themuseum is five to ten seconds per piece. At first this shockedme. At the time I was standing entranced next to Van GoghsIrises. I envisioned museumgoers not even breaking theirstride as they blew past. Then I realized it was the “seersyndrome.” Sadly, most people who came here were seers of art,not observers of art. As it turned out, this was the guidespoint as well.
Unfortunately, in this case seer is not as the word implies.In fact, it is the exact opposite. Where most of us picture aseer as psychic or as someone with unique visionary knowledgeand wisdom, the seers I am referring to are the tourist-likeseers. They are a painfully dominant subspecies in our culture.Tourist-like seers go to the zoo “to see the animals.” And, theycertainly do. They glance at each beast, getting no more out ofit than if they had stayed at home and thumbed through the BigPicture Book of Animals their kids had been given for Christmas.
Too often these days we use our zoos and museums as a means offulfilling social obligations. They are classic ways toentertain out of town visitors or to spend perceived qualitytime with friends and family. In the chaos of socialization, thebeauty of the individual exhibit is lost. In order to appreciateboth natural and man-made masterpieces, people need to slow downand take time to truly appreciate individual works. In short,they must observe not just see.
THE TRANSFORMATION
Many years ago the San Diego Zoological Society changed me froma seer of animals to an observer of animals. My transformationoccurred when I started working as working in the societysBehavioral Observer Program. My tasks were quite simple. I wouldwatch a single animal for a whole shift, taking note on what myfocal subject did. By the end of the first hour I knew I wasguilty of years of improper zoo use. I was converted.
In my past life as a seer, I would set out to conquer a wholezoological park in a single day with other members of my speciesin tow. Sore feet and pricey souvenirs were frequently the endresult of the journey. As a seer, I would look at the animals intheir cages, read the large print part of some of the signs(name, habitat, diet, etc.), look again at the subject thenhypnotically proceed to the next cage. All the while I wassocializing with other people. Then this mundane process wouldrepeat. I could cover smaller zoos in a single visit. Boy, did Iget my moneys worth?
These days I enjoy acquainting myself with a few new exhibitsand visiting friends from past trips. I rarely see more than asmall portion of any zoological park in a single day; however,the experience takes over my soul. As an observer, I study eachanimal and enclosure design, take note and photos for futurereference, then relax and watch my quarry. Through thedevelopment of familiarity, I take away from my visit a truerknowledge of, and a higher respect for, the animals I have beenwatching.
SHOE BILL ODYSSEY
For example, during my work, I came to know and appreciatewatching the most bizarre of animals. At very first glance, thiscreature would cause Richard Simmons to become lethargic. Thezoological society had asked me to take observation on the firstShoe Bill Stork released on an island at the San Diego WildAnimal Park.
For those of you unfamiliar
with this species, let me just saythis; Shoebills are large, dull gray, prehistoric looking birdsthat move somewhat slower than most dead stuff. My first daysnotes on a 9 am to 1 pm observation period read “11:08 walkedthree step to ponds edge”, “11:19 drank (duration 35 seconds)”,”12:01 turned away from water”. Try to impress the curator withthat insightful piece.
Fortunately, by her third day on the island my target hadloosened up (now moving nearly every hour) and I had settleddown. The seers would pass us by. Each strained cerebrallytrying to figure out why I was staring at the statue of thedinosaur bird.
“Are you sketching it?”
“Who is the sculpture?”
“What do you mean its real?”
“No it isnt.”
“Is it?”
The occasional photographically inclined seer would starethrough a telephoto at this photogenic statue. Occasionally, thelaid back statue would turn to stare back. The startled seerwould launch straight backward. The camera would launch straightforward. Then, the statue would refreeze and I would make mynote for the hour discreetly giggling on the ground. Together wewould await our next victim. As a seer I would probably still beunaware this species even existed. Thus, how could I appreciateit? I certainly would not ever have found a Shoe Bill amusinghad I not given it due time.
NEW PERCEPTIONS
A word of warning here, while it is relatively easy to fromreform a seer to an observer; it is impossible to reverse theprocedure. You will never be able to suppress being moreobservant and return to the realm of the seers. This is liketrying to stuff a full grown chicken back into its shell. Zoosas a social event will become a living hell!
Seers will find Observers to slow. Even an Observer that ismoving at his maximum potential speed of 2.5 frustrated minutesper exhibit will be left in the dust by that average 10 secondsper exhibit of the stealth-like seers. In turn, an observer willbe disgusted by the seers lack of interest in and appreciationfor the individual animals. A Seer will find an Observer to be aknow-it-all. An Observer will be resentful of being blatantlyhumored.
Seers will smack their lips together in an attempt to get ananimals attention. Dont do this! What are you thinking? “Oh,animal 2 million idiots a year subject you to this relentlessnoise. Now, I am doing it. Come show my friend how special I am.to be your chosen one.” Good grief, give me a break.
An observer will want to slap a smacking seer. The observer mustrestrain, for seers travel in packs. The observer is azoological loner. A special person to understand and share quiettime with is hard enough to find in the outside world.
Learning to be more observant is a skill that can benefitmankind in nearly every aspect of his life. Sadly though, manywill never even attempt to make the change. A natural avoidanceof the unfamiliar will take place. For of the many who hear thismusing, most will not have listened.
About the author:
Zoologist turned satirist Nola L. Kelsey is the author of thescathingly wicked satire Bitch Unleashed: The Harsh Realities ofGoin Country. She is also the coauthor of the twisted politicalsatire Keeping the Masses Down. Kelseys newsletter, NomadicMuse, is tracking her escape from South Dakota normality to herlife as a shoestring backpacker in SE Asia. Excerpts from BitchUnleashed and subscriptions to Nomadic Muse are available on her
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