The Gorilla and The Little Boy

The death of Harambe, the western lowland gorilla at the Cincinnati zoo, has resonated around the world. After a three-year-old boy fell into its compound, Harambe was shot, fearing tranquilizing the animal might provoke a sudden violent reaction towards the toddler before sedation took effect. I was saddened by the gorilla's death and the events of that day.

Once upon a time, we visited the places called zoos where animals live. With three little boys in tow, a trip to the zoo was always an educational 'childhood' destination and a major undertaking. Our little boys were inquisitive 'action' figures, always doing, thinking. They were delightful animal lovers, too. (Having dogs from birth can do that to a child.) They understood and respected these four-footed creatures wrapped in fur. 

 

Any outing with little children always required sufficient 'staff'. We were seeing their world for the first time. Their excitement was palpable. Being their primary caregivers placed an onerous responsibility on us when visiting any public facility. Vigilance was our duty. 

 

One trip to a local zoo, outside of Toronto, was especially unforgettable. There were so many animals to see. All were in close proximity to one another, each with their own unique housing site. But I took our safety for granted. (I was a neophyte in the ways of all things zoos.) I did not concern myself about barrier height or type. I made assumptions. Oh My. Everything was up close and very personal. When the lions and tigers began to roar, one day, the thunderous sounds of these jungle captives became a story to tell. We had never heard the vocalizing of these majestic cats. We were in awe of their presence and their sounds. Perhaps they were screaming, “Let us out of here!” We, the paying public, had the freedom to stay or go. They did not. When we visited the Toronto Zoo, a mammoth city-zoo unto itself, the sounds and movement of the lions, tigers and elephants were rarely seen or heard. Were they happy there? Freedom was not easy for these creatures. As time passed, however, I began to think that, maybe, the animals in a zoo might not think being there was such a great idea. They had no choice. If only they could talk.

Harambe was minding his own business that day when the end came. It would have been a shock to anyone to see a child suddenly fall into harm's way. What was the little boy thinking? Was he looking for his mom? Child and beast were doing what was normal and expected of each: the gorilla, sitting in his enclosure; the boy, exploring a new world he had just entered, unexpectedly. The mammoth gorilla, most like man himself, was probably wondering what the fuss was all about when 'family' came to 'visit'. A decision had to be made. The gorilla had to die. His daunting strength and unpredictability worked against him. Everything the boy did was expected of a child, outdoors, wanting to touch the world around him. He was an observer, an innocent, then a petrified participant.

Zoos are man-made living and breathing exhibits, designed for wild animals, in small park-like parcels of land or water. Everything is done to accommodate the unique needs of each 'resident' while keeping them safe, secure and happy in their own 'natural habitats'. What was not planned or expected, that day, was the curiosity of a child. A child lives to explore. It is his mandate, his reason for being. It is his DNA! ... 

 

A serious watchful adult eye is required of every moment when visiting the zoo with children. In a blink of an eye, we can lose that child his drive for knowledge insatiable and boundless. Concepts of time, danger or “no” have little meaning to him. ... These miniature adults-in-training are fearless explorers.  Zoos are their domain, places for their enjoyment, entertainment and education, too. Petting zoos are made for them. The animal world beckons little children to touch and explore. It is a never-ending lure of curiosity that hammers at the child until his insatiable thirst for knowing is quenched, for the time being. 

 

Visiting the zoo is a serious place, a wondrous one where two worlds collide. We need to take that responsibility seriously with our children. The animal in his special outdoor home should never be at risk. He is where he belongs, is he not? Decades ago, our then five-year-old repeatedly pulled the whiskers of our adult male retriever, one day. After several mid-range growl 'reminders', the dog responded, forthright, without pause. Our furry resident had been antagonized. (Even family pets have their limits.) A call to the doctor calmed any concerns I might have had about the 'bite'. It had not pierced the skin, thankfully. Had blood appeared and the bite been human, the outcome might have been different, I was told. ... On another occasion, the same child, caught jumping on a sofa chair, was reminded to stop. The excitement continued. Moments later, a repeat performance of his high-flying act catapulted him over the chair. Within a week, his tongue had completely healed. (The oral cavity heals quickly, he discovered, after receiving this painful reminder of his former misdeed.) Our son had pushed the limits of his physical boundaries, again. And he was five! His insatiable urge to explore never wavered, never stopped. It was simply postponed, till later, at his discretion. ...

The enclosure for Harambe, with its smooth 12-foot high concrete wall, was designed to house and keep the gorilla safe and secure. But at the top, the low-level bushes, with another protective layer of wood-framed metal mesh-fencing behind them, only served to assist a little boy in the adventure of a lifetime. ... Engineers, architects, animal experts, veterinarians and other professionals had been involved in the design, planning, construction of the gorillas' enclosure. But what was not considered was the will of a young innocent, looking in, wanting in. ... Curiosity can move mountains. ... We mourn Harambe's sudden passing. Let us learn from his tragic death.

Coming soon: The incredible world of elephants.