Southwick's Zoo: A Review, Part Two
Continued from last week.
For someone who only clocks in at 30lbs. and 3 foot something, possibly nothing, the Southwick's Zoo is a brilliant place to be. It's got low fences for peering over. It's got elk (DEER!), roaming within feet of a train (TRAIN!). It's got corn, for feeding the deer (actual deer, not DEER! who are actually elk) that roam about a massive 35 acre deer park. More importantly, it's got the little boxes you put a quarter or two into, turn the dial, and ka-ching, down comes the corn. Which is such a thrill that the fact that he's about to feed deer, out of his own hand.
So when we calm him down, we head through a set of gates at the end of the zoo's property, and start stalking the deer. They've got fawns, does, and a few smallish bucks scattered around the forest like, I imagine, schools of fish, with anywhere from one to five deer in a school. Taking a little time to dissect that image, they aren't really like fish at all, but I suppose, if one were a pond or ocean dwelling person (well, dwelling near one, not necessarily dwelling in or on one) it would do, in a pinch. Like, say, you were from this ocean dwelling place, and you were on the hot seat; bright light beating down on your face, your request for a cigarette refused, palms sweating, the guy with the weedy mustache pacing back and forth like a caged animal, when suddenly he snaps to your side, slapping a piece of paper and pencil down on the table, and screams "DRAW ME A FAMILY OF DEER, OUT CAVORTING IN THE WOODS! NOW!" Well, in this type of situation, in which I suppose you're threatened with something other than just a guy yelling at you, imagining a taller, furry, four legged school of fish walking around in the forest would probably get you by. At least until the next time the guy screams some odd request at you.
In D---'s nearly two years on the planet, I have tried to imbue him with the skills to survive and thrive in this modern world. Apparently, stalking deer has either been a skill I've neglected, or am simply ineffective at teaching him. Because his idea of stalking the deer was to run at them with his hands held out in front of himself, yelling "DEER!" At the end of which, even if the deer hadn't bolted for quieter corners of the forest, they wouldn't be terribly interested in this last of the Mohicans because his hands would be completely empty of the corn. Unless they were sick of the traditional salt lick, and wanted to give this one, covered in ice cream residue, a bit of dirt, some crisps (which were salty) a try.
Eventually, either because the deer were starving, at this stage, having been frightened away from everyone strolling around, carrying corn in their hands, or because they were intrigued by his new, innovative stalking technique, the deer came close enough to eat the corn out of his hands.
Quite possibly continued next week... and if it is, please ignore our official rating for the zoo below. But you'll not know until next week. So.
disclaimer:
Here you go, be gentle with the edges, it creases easily.
Oh, and the official Sane Magazine Zoo Rating(tm) for Southwick's Zoo is:
Nineteen Golden Giraffes.
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