The Zoo is Closed

On the first day after the zoo closes everything carries on as much as it does on every other day. Without the visitors that is. No crying babies, no ice-cream sales, no feeding-time crowd pleasers, no need for the shy sloths to hide from hundreds of eyes or the peacocks to fan out their feathers in the hope of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’. The keepers still come in to chop up the food, to tend to the seal with the poorly ear, to make sure the new baby elephant is finding his feet. But except for the lack of human footfall, and the need to react to the attention that brings, not much has changed.

On the third day after the zoo closes the animals begin to wonder what’s going on. The unusual quietness is causing more than a little anxiety. Bears, of all varieties, pace back and forth in their compounds. The slithering snakes recoil and hiss. The giraffes twist their long necks looking all around. Even the lazy lions stay alert just in case. Just in case of what no one is sure.

On the eight day after the zoo closes the mood shifts. After days of puzzlement and not a little fear, the collective decision is just to go with it, to accept the strange change and embrace the positives.

No litter.

No tantrums.

No poking sticks through fences when the zoo staff aren’t looking.

No having to perform to order: to roar, swim, preen for one’s lunch or one’s supper.

Just: EAT. PLAY. SLEEP. REPEAT.

On the fourteenth day after the zoo closes new habits are forming. Everyone pauses to listen to the beautiful early morning chorus provided by the zoo’s feathered residents. At lunchtime there’s no showing off, no food throwing or squashing, just lots of noisy chomping, chewing and swallowing. Then as the day draws to an end rather than the usual cacophony of noise as the monkeys howl, the hyenas laugh and the bull frogs croak, all that can be heard is a little snuffling and snoring as a busy day of doing very little makes everyone sleepy.

On the twenty-second day after the zoo closes the animals start talking to each other. Not through bellows and squeaks or grunts or bleats but in words that humans, that you and I, could understand. With no need to be something other than what they are for a human audience they are themselves; asking each other to name their favourite plants and flowers, swapping tips on keeping cool as the weather gets warmer, sharing funny stories of the silly, clumsy, ways of the human kids and adults that they used to watch when the zoo was open. Some have to shout to be heard across the pens and the walls but all are starting to enjoy this different way of life very much indeed. Who knew that tree snails are so funny and that warthogs have such beautiful singing voices? No one that’s who. And the parrots. The parrots are so, so clever; much, much more than just pretty boys and girls.

On the thirty-ninth day after the zoo closes the most brave amongst the runners, swimmers, flyers and slitherers take the next steps. Using their feet or their fins, their wings or their skin in ways no man or woman, girl or boy, has ever seen before they leap out of pits and pools, soar over fences, slip between bars. All to wander and glide freely around the zoo, remaking acquaintance with species they might meet if in the wild and introducing themselves to others that would in the outside world live far, far, far away. These new ways of meeting and greeting, of friendly get-togethers and shy first encounters are started by the meerkats, the dolphins, the hummingbirds and the glow-worms. But slowly, and pretty soon more quickly, others join in and the zoo is buzzing and humming with happy, if a little nervous - given the usual snarling and sniping - chatter.

On the fifty-fifth day after the zoo closes all is good; very, very good. There is no chasing, no fighting, no fear. For without us around, without excited, expectant, lookers on, the non-human animals have no need to perform, no need to be fierce and aggressive, no need to attack the more timid, the less powerful. It seems it really is possible for a leopard to change her or his spots. The hippos are still grumpy, the chimps are still naughty, the cheetahs are still bored but everyone is enjoying their new freedoms and with no need to put on an act, to boast or to brag for the people they have more time to read, to rest, to debate and to learn when they want to.

On the. . .

What day is it now I’ve lost count?

Never mind it’s a lot of days later, a lot of days after the zoo closes.

Anyways the word on the paths, in the tanks and the closures, is that the zoo is opening, opening to the public in a matter of days. So, after one last bit of chat, one final joke, one final shared secret the animals retreat sadly to their own homes. Chatter is replaced with purrs and with growls, giggles with snarls, whispers with twittering. New alliances are put aside, old grudges renewed, as all the animals prepare for life in the zoo to return to normal.

Ahh well, it will be nice to see the children again.

                                                                    THE END