Jimmy Ratel posted 12/28/2007 4:52:30 PM | 10 kudos what's this?     report abuse

Tunes4u

I spent my senior year of high school at the Washington DC Zoological Park off Connecticut Ave. It was 1967-1968, and I was a regular almost everyday fixture there.

I hated high school. I would have done anything rather than actually go to class. I figured out a scheme so that no one knew where I was, and no one knew I was missing. And I still graduated with no problem. Just had to be there on the right days is all. It was simple back then.

And so I would go down into DC, and go to the Zoo. Most of the keepers and handlers knew me by name, and I was allowed many privileges other people were not. I was a cage cleaner, and a feeder. Not officially mind you. No one knew about that either, except the few select handlers and feeders who actually worked at the Park. As far as administration was concerned, I did not exist.

I worked there all the time, and slowly became familiar with most of the critters that were there. I fed the seals, and many of the larger animals eventually including elephants. But the most intense times came standing front of large cats.......with a hunk a red raw meat hanging from a long forked pole......my God what a sight! What an incredible creature.

All of my friends at the Zoo who taught me and let me do these things, were I think, expecting me to become one of them. They thought I loved the job, because I was there all the time, and was intensely focused on it. But they were wrong. I hated that place.

To me.....it was a miserable jail. Don't get me wrong....the animals that were there were never mistreated in any way. On the contrary, the guys I knew loved and respected each of the species. But I was there for a completely different reason. Two to be exact.
1. I hated High School .....remember? Even more than the "jail".
2. I felt such a powerful draw ...I couldn't stay away. My heart went out to these captives, kept so far away from their natural homes....in such an ungodly way.

I was once found sitting in front of the Orangutan's cage, crying. He was looking at me with such intensity with his very warm and inviting eyes.....I kept trying to figure out which one of us was really in a cage.

So I learned all about feeding those friends of mine. I felt that with every feeding, I was bringing something to the table besides a meal. I felt like I loved these guys more than anyone else could, and that if there had been some way for me to right this terrible wrong, I surely would - in a heartbeat.
We were bonded, we had common ground...me and those animals....they in their cages, being held captive, and I....a teenager, in my "cage"....rebelling and generally growing my hair and listening to the new music that came out everyday it seemed. Hendrix, Beatles, Stones, Dylan, Cream, Ochs, Baez, Guthrie, and hundreds of others. And wishing I could save the world. Or at least my "friends" trapped in the zoo.

I don't go to the circus. Went once, and that was quite enough.
I don't go to zoos either.
Once I was released from my confinement in High School, I ran. Far far away.

My time at the zoo still remains with me to this day. Even the tiny "screams" of the mice I stuffed into cans, while putting the lids on. The cans would kinda vibrate for a minute, and then go still. Snuffing out their lives in order to keep Jimmy Ratel and many others alive. ( We had names for all the animals.) Some of the carnivores liked their food freshly dead. Some liked the little bastards alive. It was brutal and I will never forget it all.

I saw where a tiger escaped his cage and brought chaos with him this week in San Fran? . A horrible tragedy all around. A terrible ending to a failed escape attempt.

Brings to mind a movie I saw once when I was a wee lad....

King Kong.

That movie scared the begeezes outta me. I would run and hide behind the doors of the TV during the really scary parts, especially when Faye would be screaming her ass off. She was a great screamer.

But by the end, I was crying, as the mighty Kong lay on the pavement. I suspect many of us shed a tear for the great beast.
Maybe they weren't really tears for the King.
Maybe they were tears for us? Maybe we felt ashamed even then of what we are really capable of.

Yes...the TV had doors.....and I wore pajamas with the built in slippers too. It was a long damn time ago......get over it.

Nothing has changed. We have done nothing. Not really.
What is it? Something like 50 species a day disappearing? Even one is way too many.
It's not the atom bomb we should be afraid of....it's the bulldozer.



Put another log on the fire will ya?
And hand me my Brazilian rosewood guitar over there......sure is a pretty one, ain't it?

Stay Tuned
I do

Tunes

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