This week, we reconvened the United States Supreme Court and got down to deciding who dances best with the stars or something. The rest of the government disregards such Constitutional niceties this time of year to indulge in the quibbling and gobbledygook that is election-year campaigning. Whether one believes in the fellow who has overseen much of the economic success and distress of the past thirty years or whether one favors the anti-choice unknown naif who excites the tiresome vulgus, it matters not one whit to the otters and buzzards at the Buttonwood Park Zoo.
Because if wildlife lose the source of their foodstuff, they can fly or swim to another domain.
I stopped by an informative meeting last week at The Zoo, and was assured by Zoo insiders that if I cough up $12 million, we can start immediately sending out RFPs in order to give The Zoo's signature resident
Pigeon Elephant Sisters, Ruth and Emily, fresher digs in an Asian-themed exhibit area featuring those Asian elephants and tigers and water features and macaques and red pandas and, I imagine, bamboo.
This above visual and many others were shown at the gathering and as promised, this one almost instantly appeared on the Buttonwood Park Zoo's "Master Plan" drop-down on the "About The Zoo" tab. On their website. Because they don't dick around like some other SouthCoasters who so enthusiastically cherish the half-assed.
The earnest goodwill of the Zoo's representatives and their consultants was palpably sincere. Especially in their exposition that any zoo that doesn't periodically change its exhibits loses visitors, members, and revenue. Most Zoos do so every three years; The Buttonwood Park Zoo hasn't changed anything since the First Gulf War. Ah the sweet smell of sane fiscal sensibility: "financial self-sufficiency," "capital improvements," and "community input." (The term "for the kids" was not over-mentioned.)
For two forthright hours, the people who take care of the animals and the facilities and the maintenance and the planning for the zoo gave a solid presentation to the dozens of us who had assembled.
But, like in so many other positive endeavors in the SouthCoast, a guy from the Buttonwood Park Pessimists' Club or other read a letter that had been penned sometime last century saying, "No" because it would mean buying three acres of real estate in Asia, at least according to the above map. This left a sour pall over the rest of the assembled curious who were worried mostly about traffic and tigers.
I found the objection -- however graciously offered and pragmatically contrived -- distasteful in its timing. Call your own meeting to pooh-pooh The Zoo's hopes and aspirations, won't you.
This knee-jerk opposition reminds me of how some folk ape the current crop of babbling nitwits on the national stage. Without indication of having assessed the situation fully or even anticipating a harmonious accord, they simply forge an animosity which entirely obviates affiliation.
Or at least that's what I got out of it as the cheery PowerPoint show concluded. And because my blood glucose level had hit single digits. (I should remember to eat dinner before these things.)
I do recall, through the delusions of hypoglycemia: