LJ Idol Season 9 Week 12 - Join the Monkey Queue
o/` "We are wrong, we are wrong
We are all so, so wrong
We are monkeys
We are false, we run true
We should be in the zoo with our uncles
And if you don't believe
Go and climb up a tree and you'll love it
You're a fool to believe anymore" o/`
-- "We Are Monkeys" performed by Travis
I am possibly the only adult on the planet who, when planning a trip to the zoo, will insist upon visiting the monkeys. After all, Jacksonville Zoo prides itself for its Bonobo clan and it's one of only seven zoos in the world allowed to breed the rare, endangered mountain gorillas as part of their species' conservation plan.
That is not, however, why I go. I am meeting a would-be lover, half of an illicit romance occurring about eight to twenty million years too late.
To this day, I have no idea why I am so attractive to these great apes. It's personally embarrassing in so many ways.
The first time it happened, I was visiting the zoo in Dallas. We'd never been there before and so coming upon the gorilla enclosure was pure happenstance. I remember it had a sheltered viewing area while allowed a better look into the compound --- an ape's eye view, if you will. Perhaps it was the wheelchair, which makes me look as squat and square as any ape. Maybe he was lonely or mischievous. Whatever his reasoning, the male gorilla went into a spectacular display. He roared and beat his chest while baring his teeth; he even pounded and snorted against the glass wall. The other people in the viewing area immediately fled, but I had absolutely nowhere to go. The manual wheelchair wasn't built for speedy retreat and I certainly couldn't manipulate it uphill by myself. I honestly thought I was about to become one of those odd stories you see in the news once in a while.
The male had stopped his display and now had his cheek against the glass, fingers stroking it lovingly right where my cowardly husband had left me to die. In a moment he went further back in the enclosure and came back down to offer me an orange.
A year later, we visited Jacksonville Zoo. Their male mountain gorilla put on quite a display just for me and offered me a nibble on his bamboo.
My friends, of course, thought this absolutely hilarious and just stood there laughing as I blushed. I didn't go back to the zoo 2012, which was quite a time lapse.
He remembered me.
When we arrived, he had been sitting in a corner of the enclosure completely ignoring the holiday crowds. As I set my lens and steadied it, he looked up and spotted me.
That ape covered the distance at a fast shamble and didn't stop until he and I were separated only by the glass. He posed for me, just as if I'd been shooting the hominid version of GQ.
This eight hundred plus pound ape --- which I later found out is usually gentle and shy --- stretched out in the grass. One couldn't help but admire the heavily muscled buttocks and deep chest...if one were a lady gorilla (which I obviously was not).
He rolled over, scratching absently at his ribs, and contemplated the sky. Finally he flung one big hand over his eyes and looked for all the world like any other lovestruck hominid male!
Unlike the Dallas enclosure, there wasn't any shade there. Even though I'd brought a hat, I could feel myself burning under the hot sun. Having taken enough photos, I turned away. Darned if he didn't throw himself against the glass in a classic pout as I moved off with my friends to get a drink.
I haven't been back to the zoo since then and I probably should. Apes live almost as long as we do and I'm sure he's waiting for me to appear again.
We are all so, so wrong
We are monkeys
We are false, we run true
We should be in the zoo with our uncles
And if you don't believe
Go and climb up a tree and you'll love it
You're a fool to believe anymore" o/`
-- "We Are Monkeys" performed by Travis
I am possibly the only adult on the planet who, when planning a trip to the zoo, will insist upon visiting the monkeys. After all, Jacksonville Zoo prides itself for its Bonobo clan and it's one of only seven zoos in the world allowed to breed the rare, endangered mountain gorillas as part of their species' conservation plan.
That is not, however, why I go. I am meeting a would-be lover, half of an illicit romance occurring about eight to twenty million years too late.
To this day, I have no idea why I am so attractive to these great apes. It's personally embarrassing in so many ways.
The first time it happened, I was visiting the zoo in Dallas. We'd never been there before and so coming upon the gorilla enclosure was pure happenstance. I remember it had a sheltered viewing area while allowed a better look into the compound --- an ape's eye view, if you will. Perhaps it was the wheelchair, which makes me look as squat and square as any ape. Maybe he was lonely or mischievous. Whatever his reasoning, the male gorilla went into a spectacular display. He roared and beat his chest while baring his teeth; he even pounded and snorted against the glass wall. The other people in the viewing area immediately fled, but I had absolutely nowhere to go. The manual wheelchair wasn't built for speedy retreat and I certainly couldn't manipulate it uphill by myself. I honestly thought I was about to become one of those odd stories you see in the news once in a while.
The male had stopped his display and now had his cheek against the glass, fingers stroking it lovingly right where my cowardly husband had left me to die. In a moment he went further back in the enclosure and came back down to offer me an orange.
A year later, we visited Jacksonville Zoo. Their male mountain gorilla put on quite a display just for me and offered me a nibble on his bamboo.
My friends, of course, thought this absolutely hilarious and just stood there laughing as I blushed. I didn't go back to the zoo 2012, which was quite a time lapse.
He remembered me.
When we arrived, he had been sitting in a corner of the enclosure completely ignoring the holiday crowds. As I set my lens and steadied it, he looked up and spotted me.
That ape covered the distance at a fast shamble and didn't stop until he and I were separated only by the glass. He posed for me, just as if I'd been shooting the hominid version of GQ.
This eight hundred plus pound ape --- which I later found out is usually gentle and shy --- stretched out in the grass. One couldn't help but admire the heavily muscled buttocks and deep chest...if one were a lady gorilla (which I obviously was not).
He rolled over, scratching absently at his ribs, and contemplated the sky. Finally he flung one big hand over his eyes and looked for all the world like any other lovestruck hominid male!
Unlike the Dallas enclosure, there wasn't any shade there. Even though I'd brought a hat, I could feel myself burning under the hot sun. Having taken enough photos, I turned away. Darned if he didn't throw himself against the glass in a classic pout as I moved off with my friends to get a drink.
I haven't been back to the zoo since then and I probably should. Apes live almost as long as we do and I'm sure he's waiting for me to appear again.