It is their eyes – all of them – gazing out to far horisons burnt into their memories. Reminds me of Ted Hughes poem The Jaguar:
The apes yawn and adore their fleas in the sun.
The parrots shriek as if they were on fire, or strut
Like cheap tarts to attract the stroller with the nut.
Fatigued with indolence, tiger and lion
Lie still as the sun. The boa-constrictor’s coil
Is a fossil. Cage after cage seems empty, or
Stinks of sleepers from the breathing straw.
It might be painted on a nursery wall.
But who runs like the rest past these arrives
At a cage where the crowd stands, stares, mesmerized,
As a child at a dream, at a dream, at a jaguar hurrying enraged
Through prison darkness after the drills of his eyes
On a short fierce fuse. Not in boredom —
The eye satisfied to be blind in fire,
By the bang of blood in the brain deaf the ear —
He spins from the bars, but there’s no cage to him
More than to the visionary his cell:
His stride is wildernesses of freedom:
The world rolls under the long thrust of his heel,
Over the cage floor the horizons come.
Thanks, Lynn. I think the saddest was the alligator house, where the poor fellow barely had enough room to turn around in – didn’t take any photos there though.
An interesting twist on zoo photography…
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Thanks, Andy. I’ve been there several times before, but wanted to try to capture something of the context of their confines this time.
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Captivity it is too… sadly. Shown beautifully!
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Thanks, Marina.
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🙂🙂
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It is their eyes – all of them – gazing out to far horisons burnt into their memories. Reminds me of Ted Hughes poem The Jaguar:
The apes yawn and adore their fleas in the sun.
The parrots shriek as if they were on fire, or strut
Like cheap tarts to attract the stroller with the nut.
Fatigued with indolence, tiger and lion
Lie still as the sun. The boa-constrictor’s coil
Is a fossil. Cage after cage seems empty, or
Stinks of sleepers from the breathing straw.
It might be painted on a nursery wall.
But who runs like the rest past these arrives
At a cage where the crowd stands, stares, mesmerized,
As a child at a dream, at a dream, at a jaguar hurrying enraged
Through prison darkness after the drills of his eyes
On a short fierce fuse. Not in boredom —
The eye satisfied to be blind in fire,
By the bang of blood in the brain deaf the ear —
He spins from the bars, but there’s no cage to him
More than to the visionary his cell:
His stride is wildernesses of freedom:
The world rolls under the long thrust of his heel,
Over the cage floor the horizons come.
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Thanks for the poetry, Anne!
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These are special Graham, the last shot evokes the sadness of zoos.
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Yes, he looked so forlorn, sat there on his own in a corner.
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They should be in the jungle having fun, not being gawped at. I suppose it’s somehow to do with conservation, but it doesn’t seem right.
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This is a powerful post, Graham, and very sad. You did an amazing job of conveying the distress and boredom of the animals and birds.
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Thanks, Lynn. I think the saddest was the alligator house, where the poor fellow barely had enough room to turn around in – didn’t take any photos there though.
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I’m sure it was hard enough doing as much as you did.
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