Spring in the Zoo > IDEAS & IDEALS

• 목록

There are many signs that indicate the coming of spring--the growing strength of the sun and the lengthening of the daytime, the feeling of heaviness in your clothes, the cease of the pleasant hissing sound from the radiators in the morning at your office, and  melodies of birds unheard and unseen until yesterday, heavenly weather in the morning followed by the nasty wind in the afternoon, people in the fields and orchards that had been deserted, the babble of brooks again after long silence, laughter of children on their way home from school, chattering of the housewives by the stream washing clothes in the still icy-cold water--all these and many others. But for me who happen to live, very fortunately, near the amusement park, spring comes first with the gathering of children in the zoo.

     Many places and things become very desolate in winter--the upturned rowboats in the deserted beach lying here and there like the carcasses of big fish, the naked trees crying in the cold wind, silent and dry woods, frozen and mute brooks, empty classrooms and snow-covered playground of the school that is completely abandoned and deserted during the long vacation--all these and many others.

     But for me who knows and loves the atmosphere of the zoo better and more than anyone, the zoo in winter is the very embodiment of dreariness and despair. Except for a few arctic animals most of the furry and feathery families in it would either retreat from the public eye and into their own world of sleep and meditation showing little signs of life, let alone ferocity or agility. In the temperature below zero there are few people around and especially no children. The vendors of the balloons and icecreams are not to be seen anywhere, and the huge roller-coaster, Ferris wheel, and merry-go-rounds are still and idle. The zoo in winter is a vast waste land.

     But come spring, with the rush of people, especially of children, it becomes suddenly, more than any other place, full of life. Flamingoes begin to dance and zebras begin to run in their enclosure. Hippopotamuses yawn more frequently as if they lacked sleep. Tortoises creep out in the sun from nowhere carrying the heavy and hard discs on their backs. Cubs are born. Merry-go-rounds begin to turn with so many laughing children on them. It may well be wondered and doubted where this moving energy and the bouncing spirit come from in every spring.

     If you are a young and happy parent, but poor, with many children, more than three as was in my case, and when they bug or beg you to take them out in spring, the zoo is the very ideal place to go. The place is very recreational as well as educational. It has nothing to do with the luxury or vanity of the parents. With small amount of money in your pocket, I assure you, you can give them immense pleasure and satisfaction that would stay long in their memories as an invaluable childhood experience. If there be any parents who had passed their parenthood without having taken their children to the zoo, even once, I would not hesitate to say that they surely have missed something very important in their life.

     When I was a young father of three daughters, with less money in my wallet than now, but with more hope and worry in my heart, I used to take them to the zoo in spring. The event has become a kind of spring ritual for my children for certain period of time. As the children on the eve of the school picnic, my wife and I went to bed quite excited and worrying about the weather next day. In fact, it was we who were more excited than the children.

     I can now recall our first trip to the zoo much more vividly than others. It was some twenty years or so ago when none of my children began to go to school. The youngest one was barely a toddler and I had to carry her on my back from time to time. The weather was heavenly fine and the gentle breeze played upon my cheeks and hairs. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. From the moment we entered the gate of the zoo we were  swallowed up in the crowd, and I told my children not to wander off too far. Like a hen and a cock with a new brood of chickens making their first outing in the spring sun, I and my wife followed them slowly enjoying ourselves. We bought each of them balloons according to their choice, and popcorns, as other parents did for their kids. I cannot remember the colors of the balloons except the one I bought for my youngest daughter: it was yellow one for sure. From time to time they came back from the crowds to locate our position and ran away to see the other animals. It was an exhilarating pleasure to watch them recognize, identify, or distinguish the animals which they had only seen in the picture-books. They looked so smart and intelligent.

     After the animals there was time to ride. There arose a hot discussion between me and my wife, and among the children themselves as to the thing to ride. They knew that their parents could not afford to allow them to ride all the things they wanted to. They had to make a choice. After all, we all agreed to ride the merry-go-round. I sat upon the horse with my youngest daughter in front of me. She seemed a little bit afraid and worried. To tell the truth, I was also afraid because I myself had no experience of riding it. It began to move. It began to turn round. On the horseback going round and up and down I saw the happy faces of the other two children and my young wife, and felt the joy of life, joy of living, joy of having children, joy of married life, joy of being a father and a husband, and wished and thought that this would last long and forever.

     But it didn't. It just lasted two or three more years. They grew up so quickly and soon they went to school and became busy with their own work, and I with mine. As of last year my youngest daughter graduated from college. During the time the trip to the zoo had been completely out of our mind as well as our sight. Now I am richer and can afford to buy them not only as many balloons and as much popcorns as they wish, but also to let them ride as much as they want, and to buy them a very expensive lunch at a luxuriant restaurant, but alas! no one wants to go to the zoo with me now.

     Last Sunday, after a long absence of more than twenty years, driven by nostalgia and impusle that spring brought to me, I went to the zoo, and this time by myself. People were rushing in. So many children were running and shouting in front of their happy, young and proud parents. Some parents were carrying their babies in their arms or in perambulators. Spring was in its full glory on the boughs of the cherry trees, but with no children of mine around me I felt lonely, as if I were in autumn. Children makes spring. They bring spring. They are spring.
          (April 29, 1995)