Day 301 - a year in Forest Park

- photography & writing by Edward Crim

 

Forest of the night

 

I finished my walk today at the Zoo. I started at 665 Skinker. Between those places lies the dark (today, at least) and mysterious (well, sorta) Kennedy Forest, unknown to most of the natives of the area. Some seem afraid to venture in (perhaps their mothers told them stories of the dangers that lurk there), others rush by in their machines of steel, machines whose hearts beat with a petrochemical rumble, their wheels hissing and rumbling as they pass. They do not see the wonders of the forest. The noble falcons, the strange plants, the timid chipmunks (I’d be timid, too, if there were large creatures nearby that liked to eat my kind), the pointed snakes (what could be sharper than a serpent’s tooth?) that flash and disappear. Slugs eating puffballs (that last one doesn’t sound as romantic, somehow).

I’ve learned, dear reader, to accept the rain. The constant, daily, unceasing, wet and cold rain. Sigh. It does impart an attractive sheen to the natural world, but it also creates a certain slickness underfoot that is not conducive to photographers remaining vertical.

So, with my shoelaces untied (natural forces at work) and my shoes and pant legs soaked (isn’t nature wonderful), I slipped into the Zoo (though not without a fight on the part of my umbrella) and talked to Nancy, the nice lady behind the visitor desk there.

“If you’re looking for something unusual,” she said, “I hear the big cats have dug themselves a mud hole and are wallowing in it.”

Flashback to my own tender years of playing in the mud and rain (though it was warmer when I tried it)! I will see the Tigers, I resolved and set off across the empty Zoo grounds to see for myself. Even on a wet and cold day, there is magic in that place (hot food, too, at their eating establishments). I found my striped friends pacing and romping; splashing, pouncing, rolling and playing what looked like a game of “Chicken” where two or three of them would chase each other to the edge of the pit (which keeps them from munching on folks like you and me) and then stop abruptly. It helps to have four legs. Photos. Rainy day photos. Cold rainy day photos. Here.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

 
 

next >

< previous