Do you truly see animals at the zoo? A while back, on a visit to the J. Paul Getty Museum in Santa Monica, I overheard a tour guide say the average time spent looking at a work of art in the museum is five to ten seconds per piece. At first this shocked me. At the time I was standing entranced next to Van Gogh’s ‘Irises.’ I envisioned museumgoers not even breaking their stride as they blew past. Then I realized it was the “seer syndrome.” Sadly, most people who came here were seers of art, not observers of art. As it turned out, this was the guide’s point as well.
Unfortunately, in this case ‘seer’ is not as the word implies. In fact, it is the exact opposite. Where most of us picture a seer as psychic or as someone with unique visionary knowledge and wisdom, the seers I am referring to are the tourist-like seers. They are a painfully dominant subspecies in our culture. Tourist-like seers go to the zoo “to see the animals.” And, they certainly do. They glance at each beast, getting no more out of it than if they had stayed at home and thumbed through the Big Picture Book of Animals their kids had been given for Christmas.
Too often these days we use our zoos and museums as a means of fulfilling social obligations. They are classic ways to entertain out of town visitors or to spend perceived quality time with friends and family. In the chaos of socialization, the beauty of the individual exhibit is lost. In order to appreciate both natural and man-made masterpieces, people need to slow down and take time to truly appreciate individual works. In short, they must observe not just see.
THE TRANSFORMATION
Many years ago the San Diego Zoological Society changed me from a seer of animals to an observer of animals. My transformation occurred when I started working as working in the society’s Behavioral Observer Program. My tasks were quite simple. I would watch a single animal for a whole shift, taking note on what my focal subject did. By the end of the first hour I knew I was guilty of years of improper zoo use. I was converted.
In my past life as a seer, I would set out to conquer a whole zoological park in a single day with other members of my species in tow. Sore feet and pricey souvenirs were frequently the end result of the journey. As a seer, I would look at the animals in their cages, read the large print part of some of the signs (name, habitat, diet, etc.), look again at the subject then hypnotically proceed to the next cage. All the while I was socializing with other people. Then this mundane process would repeat. I could cover smaller zoos in a single visit. Boy, did I get my moneys worth?
These days I enjoy acquainting myself with a few new exhibits and visiting friends from past trips. I rarely see more than a small portion of any zoological park in a single day; however, the experience takes over my soul. As an observer, I study each animal and enclosure design, take note and photos for future reference, then relax and watch my quarry. Through the development of familiarity, I take away from my visit a truer knowledge of, and a higher respect for, the animals I have been watching.
SHOE BILL ODYSSEY
For example, during my work, I came to know and appreciate watching the most bizarre of animals. At very first glance, this creature would cause Richard Simmons to become lethargic. The zoological society had asked me to take observation on the first Shoe Bill Stork released on an island at the San Diego Wild Animal Park.
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