The Zoo
We took a long drive north to Boston yesterday -- specifically to the Franklin Park Zoo, to see a relatively new exhibit they opened up this year featuring tigers.
Zoos aren't something we go to all the time, but I'm certainly happy that we have two relatively good ones that are basically equidistant from us -- Franklin Park Zoo is about an hour and a half north of us, while Roger Williams Zoo in Providence, RI is more or less an hour and a half west of us.
I am, as I am in so many things in life, of two minds about zoos. On one hand, I really like them -- they give the kids a chance to see exotic animals up close, especially animals they love. Some of them are predictable: All the kids loved the great cats, for example -- even though the tigers didn't do much except sit there in the water, the lion slept, the ocelot paced back and forth, and the amur leopards looked they wanted to eat something ... or someone. But sometimes they'll surprise you. Bob was smitten with the prarie dogs, for example, which live in a huge burrow inside a big circular exhibit. James liked the gorillas.
On the other had, I recognize that many of these animals don't particularly flourish in captivity, and certainly know that they'd probably be happier and maybe even healthier if they lived in the wild, in their own habitats.
But I figure short of taking these kids on a Kenyan safari -- which god knows I'd do in a heartbeat if I was wealthy -- it's probably the only way they're going to get to see animals like zebras or giraffes in real life.
And zoos are a damn sight better, in my opinion, than circuses, which I find to be depressing and sad.