Horn and Hoof Mesa, Notes in Words and Icons

Posted on July 6, 2002 in Imagery Travel Zoos

Moving down the serpentine road past various species of gazelle that all look like Thompson’s to me but are identified as distinct species by the informational signs. Some kind of fuzzy-snouted hog from Borneo, gathering with its kinfolk to take a shower. A cluster of takins, a beast that like the Okapi appears to be made of spare parts: in this case part goat, part horse, part bison. Sleeping peccaries and idle bongos. And the experience that touches me most closely: a pair of Zebras. I stop to take a picture of the one standing closest to the fence. He eats from his trough. His stripes and white profile face me. A brother, a sister, or a mate stands a few paces back. It notices me, comes forward, cutting the plane of the pen mate at a right angle. I take three pictures of this approach. The eyes of the second zebra shine like twin, candent laser beams, all the colors in the world concentrated in a pair of lights, the only two stars in the camera’s night sky that is colored cyan, indigo, and moonstone.

Later, after I move on, pass through other exhibits, go home, rest a few days, and write this down, I look again at the pictures. Green figures almost as prominently as blue. The first zebra is rubbing his chin on a simulated termite mound, not eating. There’s moss growing on the base wall. It’s a different story. But I find I like both.