In the wild

You can’t see the flock of white pelicans and black swans in the water.

Yesterday, I took my two youngest boys to the zoo, and it was great. It was one of the beautiful days that make me especially glad that I stay home with my kids, because who would want to spend such a day in an office and their kids to waste it in a daycare building? Or, horrors, their kids go to the zoo and enjoy the day but with someone else! So the zoo trip was a piece of cake, except for the hour-long struggle with a toddler who didn’t want to walk but refused to let me carry him. He wanted his stroller, which was conveniently in our garage, and which he has never wanted before yesterday.

As we were walking up a hill towards the big cats, there were four waves of zookeepers, some in groups of three or four, some alone, who came running down the hill, carrying large nets. One of them, as she ran past me, said into her radio, “We’re on our way.” Then a golf cart zoomed up to her, waited for her to jump in, and then whipped a U-turn and took off the other way. I really REALLY want to know what was going on. The curiosity is killing me. I wonder, When does curiosity cross into nosiness?

Maybe ten minutes later, we saw most of the zookeepers, but not all, walk back up the hill, carrying their nets (which were still dry- is that a clue?), looking perfectly calm. I assume that means no one died, animals included. I also make that assumption based on the lack of mention of a zoo accident in the news. I thought about asking what happened, but I would have had to run to catch up with them before they walked into an employees-only area. And while I am DYING of curiosity, I wasn’t willing to make a spectacle of myself. There you see my priorities dignity/not-being-a-spectacle trumps curiosity/voyeurism/nosiness.

I console myself that what I imagine might have happened is almost certainly more interesting than what actually did. Anyone want to guess what was going on? Tell me a story!


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