Weekend at the Zoo

My brother, sister-in-law and niece came to NYC this weekend to celebrate my birthday with me. I was initially very disappointed that my boyfriend bailed out at the last minute (something about having to work on Saturday -- clearly this whole "employment" thing is overrated). But it worked out really well. Without him, the four of us were at full liberty to explore Prospect Park and Central Park at our own pace.

At the Zoo, the monkeys were a huge hit with my niece, who called them "mama" (this is not a reflection on my sister-in-law) and kept crying out excitedly "Ooo, ooo, ooo!" (My niece does much better with animal sounds than with animal names.)

The monkeys stayed on a rocky island and mini archipelago, all enclosed by a wall. As we watched, the monkeys retrieved a bound journal or sketchbook that was floating near their main island. After an initial tussle, the biggest, baddest monkey ended up with custody of the book. He opened it and began flipping through, looking for all the world like a patriarch reading the diary of one of his errant offspring. This image soon ended, as he tore out several pages and ate them. The paper turned out to be a real treat for the monkeys, much more exciting, I suppose, than boring old bananas.

The zookeepers stood by glumly during the proceedings. Apparently, although the paper will probably make the monkeys ill, the keepers can do nothing to take the paper away fom them. It seems that these monkeys are quite vicious, and carry herpes B. So the keepers can only deal with the monkeys when they (the keepers) are wearing full-out protective gear, when the monkeys come in for the night to a controllable area. The keepers noted that -- having gorged themselves on paper -- the monkeys were unlikely to come in for their supper that evening.

After a tour of my office and a long journey home on the subway, we stayed in, enjoying Thai food and white wine.