Here's the crazy thing about zoos. You go, you see a few of the animals, but there are too many who are tucked away from the heat of the day. The last time we went to the San Francisco Zoo, we were lucky to see the lions (rawr) fairly close, and one of the bears doing the crawl in the bear river. But the rhino was tucked away, and we didn't make to the tiger, who was moaning in a tigerly way according to a zoo volunteer who shared our train seat.
My friend Mac says the best time to go is when it's drizzling. It's cool, the animals frolic, everyone loves a little mist.
We also saw all four of the lions — they travel in twos, and get the big lion park in shifts because the old girls, who were out that day, like to beat up the one male. After years of trying to let them work it out, the zoo decided split custody was better.
Mac and I swapped hippo stories — my nephews were hysterical when they saw the SF hippo pooping — little tail whirling about, sending poop 360 degrees. Messy stuff. Mac told me that when she was young, she and her brother watched a male hippo mount a female. There mom wasn't ready for the talk. It set the stage for our peak at the alligators canoodling in the murky swamp. First we saw the turtle paddling around, then I noticed the alligators were in the water. What luck! Swimming around! Hooray! Together, passionately! Whoa! I tried for a picture, but no luck.
I think the alligator love was lost on Bama, in the tiger hat, and Mr. Mac. We mainly take them to museums and big outings together. Generally they are in strollers with some walking. There's lots of side-by-side moments, moments when they like to bridge the stroller gap and hold hands. He's a lovey, this boy-o.