This past weekend, at the age of 26, I went on my first excursion to the local zoo. I hadn’t planned on going. My fiancee and I eventually succumbed to the boredom of a Sunday afternoon and went for a drive that took us in the general direction of the zoo. I hadn’t been there before, and he hadn’t been in years. The weather was beautiful — we wanted to be outside. After checking my phone to make sure that the zoo was indeed open — and to check the ticket prices — we settled on our course and made our way to the entrance gates.

First Impressions

My first thought was how unhappy the employees looked. They were either young workers whose initial bout of over-enthusiasm had worn off from the daily work, or old hands who checked their watches every five minutes. Neither group wanted to be there. Of course, I just assumed that they were feeling the effects of a busy summer season.

The park was large and oddly organized. There were no painted arrows or signs to show visitors the best path through the park: everybody meandered in seemingly unconscious directions. My fiancee and I decided to follow suit and slowly walked the dirt trail that led through the enclosures. The animals were dull and lethargic, but I thought that perhaps they had just been fed. Many were sleeping in corners and hiding in man-made shelters. We ended up only able to see about half of the animals the zoo kept.

It is a no-brainer that most of the animals were unhappy: what sentient being would be pleased with their lot? There was no play and, disturbingly enough, no sound. The animals hardly made a peep, with the exception of the various small birds scattered throughout the park. It wasn’t until we reached the Moon Bear enclosure that I saw blatant signs of distress. The bear did nothing but walk back and forth across a rocky outcropping in a manner I could only call compulsive. The grasses and vegetation in the enclosure showed no signs of traffic. The animal — in my opinion — did little all day but wander across the stones unhappily.

The Final Straw

I was already disheartened by the time we reached the elephant area. Three small-tusked elephants stood chained in a concrete building waiting for their baths. The zookeeper who attended them was an older man who had clearly lost patience with his line of work. He yelled instructions and only barely gave the creature a healthy scrubbing. The other attendant was busy tossing peanuts onto the floor for the elephants to root out. She said nothing. The nearby giraffes were largely unmoving — they mostly stood with their heads pressed against the wall during my entire visit.

I am only relating what I experienced at this one zoo on that particular day. I may have arrived at an “off” time, and perhaps other zoos are run differently. Sadly, I suspect the display I was “privileged” to see was the norm. Not only do I now understand why my mother never took me and my sisters to the zoo, but I clearly understand the movement to get zoos and aquariums shut down. Can they provide help to animals who would otherwise not survive in the wild? Sure, but I sincerely doubt that the cost paid by captive animals is not worth it.