This weekend, in true summer holiday style, we went to Bristol Zoo, with my sister and my 15 month old nephew, Finn. Here we are see, proof that we know how to rock and roll with the best of them:
I’m not sure how to feel about zoos. I know there is a large chunk of opinion that says they are cruel, and you can’t help but wonder about the sanity of a larger-than-man-sized gorilla spending it’s days in an area smaller than my house, but on the other hand, Bristol Zoo actually does a massive amount of international conservation work, and isn’t particularly full of large animals pacing their cages, looking like they’ve just spent six weeks shut up in the house with a gang of toddlers.
They do have some rather lazy looking lions. This is me trying unsuccessfully to make it look like I have dropped Belle in the cage with them:
Perhaps I should develop a strong opinion either way, but I think the shameful truth is that I just don’t care about animals enough. *Gasps of horror from readers as writer reveals herself to be heartless, selfish cow*
We did have a lovely day out though, despite my managing to make Belle cry several times. “That’s SIX times you’ve made me sad now,” she sobbed pathetically at me at one point. I can’t remember why, but I’m sure I wasn’t beating her or anything.
My only complaint would be that the animals are all rather boring. Our favourite bit, aside from the stink of rotten fish, was the penguin and seal enclosure. The penguins are very good value – plenty of amusing waddling – and the seals do a fair bit of sliding of the rocks, swimming about, and getting back up again. There was even a baby.
Generally though, they just sit about – is this what happens in the wild? I don’t know. Sure, it’s the miracle of nature and everything, but personally I think it would be much more fun if the animals could do tricks of some kind, or at least if they were dressed up like this:
Now that would be my kind of zoo.