I am standing under a light brown wooden overhang that covers a sheet glass window. I look at the window which has been smudged with fingerprints and other body residue from children sticking their faces up to the window in order to see the Gibbons that live behind the glass. There is a gold and black plaque centered below the window that states “Habitat Enclosure Funded by US Bank”.
As I glance at the plaque, an elderly lady and her grandson walk up to the window and inspect the gibbons in the far corner of the exhibit. “Oh he’s going to get some leafs.” says the grey haired grandma wearing brown sandals and a navy blue sweat suit. “He wants them to eat." "To eat! To eat!” exclaims her companion, a little brown haired boy in a green shirt with blue jeans, as he points at the White Handed Gibbon at the Lincoln Children’s Zoo. His grandma smiles at him and walks toward the dromedary camel exhibit while he pushes the plastic button on a cream colored metal box that is standing to the left of the window. The boy looks at the gibbons again, then follows his grandma towards the camel’s exhibit. As soon as the button is hit a whooping sound starts to emanate from the round, rusty speaker and a masculine voice declares “Gibbons are the smallest apes. They are apes not monkeys because they have no tails…” This seems to draw one of the gibbons over to the glass window. The other continues to hang buy his arms from a tree in the right corner of the exhibit.
I can’t imagine what it would be like to be caged because your habitat is diminishing and this is the only way your species can exist. If we were the animals, I wonder if we would live in little cages with various toys and plants strewn throughout it and signs on the cage that say “It’s not “junk”. Its enrichment for the animals, toys to stimulate their minds and bodies.” Would we also have a sign that said “Human Beings Homo sapiens”. How would it feel to sit on sit in front of a glass window while some other species stands outside and examines you? There would be no way to escape and you are stuck with whatever companion they stick in the habitat with you. I think that if I was born into this life it would be easier to handle than if I had once been wild. At least if you live at the zoo there are no hunters and there is always food.
I know zoos and wildlife preserves are a good thing, because they are helping to educate the population and to keep an assortment of species alive. The animal world as a whole tends to be having an issue with humans due to the fact that we are destroying their natural environments in order to gain resources. They lose out in the deal, but we don’t really have an alternative that is tremendously efficient. We need the resources that their environments provide and sometimes the only way to get them is by destroying their homes. I know that the companies that do this try to replant trees and be careful about what they disturb but that doesn’t really change the outcome. How do you satisfy so many populations? The humans need resources in order to live how they do, the animals need their environments in order to live at all. The animals have no say in the matter and only a portion of the human population is willing to change significantly in order to help them. It looks like a no win situation to me, but I guess only time will tell.
They say that the ape is the closest relative to the human being. When I looked at the gibbon I could see similar features. Some of the similar characteristics that I noticed are that both species have hair not fur, similar appendages, and opposable thumbs. If we are so similar, then why did we evolve and become the dominant species on the planet? How come the other apes are not where we are? I guess some could say that it is because they are stupid animals, but I know it is not because they are stupid. When I look at them they I can see the intelligence in their eyes; so maybe it is because they are not as intelligent. I don’t know why people say stupid animals, when we are animals too, and sometimes I am not sure how intelligent we are. Maybe the apes are the more intelligent species. They aren’t wreaking havoc on the planet in the pursuit of comfort.
The other gibbon swings over to the window and lands on a vertical log that is positioned in front of me. The gibbon’s intelligent moist brown eyes examine me through the glass, as I inspect it in return. This gibbon has golden hair all over its body. Everywhere that its skin shows, I see black flesh. There is no hairy coat around its eyes, nose, and mouth. The gibbon’s face has sparsely any hair, so it appears to have a four-leaf clover or Mickey Mouse shaped bald spot for its face. The hair next to its face is white, not golden, and it only occurs for about an inch before the gibbon’s golden hair reappears. The gibbon looks like it had a bad hair day because the hair on its head is sticking out at odd angles.
As I scrutinize its hairdo, the gibbon puts its hand, the back of which is covered in little white hair, up to the window. I reply by placing my hand on the other side of the glass, like we are giving each other a high five through the glass. Its fingers are exceptionally longer than my fingers. I am able to see how the gibbon is able to hang from trees so much. Its palm is relatively small compared to the size of its fingers. The gibbon’s long elegant fingers end in lengthy black nails. I begin to look at the gibbon’s feet and see that the pads of them, like the palms of its hands, are black. The top of its feet are covered in little white hairs. The gibbon’s legs and especially its arms seem too elongated for its small torso. The gibbon seems to lose interest in me and swings back over to its companion. As I look through my reflection at the gibbons on the other side of the exhibit, they begin to groom each other, appearing to be content in their large cage.
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