It's all happening at the zoo

This morning The Boy looked up from the debris of his new (to him) train track assemblage and said, "Zoo?" Then he spent the next hour and a half saying "Mon-key! Mon-key! Mon-key! Mon-key! Mon-key! Mon-key!" as I fed, washed and dressed him, wrangled him into the car and drove him to the Oregon Zoo, or animal prison, as I like to think of it.

My mom bought us a membership to the zoo, (thanks, Mom!) and it's only 20 minutes away, so it's no big deal to pick up and go when the mood strikes. The Boy certainly enjoys it. They have some cool exhibits, like the sea lion habi- tat where you can watch the animals above and below the water. And they do a good job of making the whole experience informative without being pedantic.

Still I have qualms.

Let's take a look at the polar bears:
So this one bear pad- dles through the water with his big bear paws till he reaches the faux rock wall at the far side, where he pushes off and glides on his back to where he started, over and over and over again. Some may say it's a relaxing way to spend the afternoon, but to me it looked like pacing. Meanwhile, the bear in back is doing this little dance, swinging his big bear head back and forth as he walks toward the wall, then walking backwards to where he started, over and over and over again. I swear I saw homeless dude doing the exact same thing in a New York City subway once, except the homeless dude was muttering to himself and occasionally spitting.

It's great that we can see these animals, still awesome in their somewhat shabby shape. And I've heard that many zoo bears are rescued from circuses or private collectors (?!) and would not survive in the wild anyway. But I can't get comfortable with the fact that these solitary creatures, who should have miles and miles of open arctic ice for roaming and hunting, are on display for us, three to a box. Sure zoos are educational. Sure they teach our kids about the environment and endangered species and to care about protecting animals and their habitats. But I also think we're teaching them that animals are here for our amusement, and I think that's wrong, wrong, wrong.

Here's one more picture: The Boy is peering in at the orangutangs, who have clustered together in a corner that is almost out of view. The sign above the exhibit tells us the names of the three apes and says how they like play games and come up to the glass to check out visitors, but both times I've come here they seemed to be hiding in the same corner. Call it anthropomorphising, but I got the distinct impression that they were looking for a little solace from our prying eyes.