San Antonio Zoo

After leaving The Rigsby, an apartment complex where I lived and worked on a maintenance crew, my girlfriend Susan and I decided to move closer to town and get a better apartment, one with carpet! We’d been living on the outskirts where essential shopping was negligent, and it was too far to drive to “go out on the town.” The Rigsby had been a decent job. I learned how to do general maintenance, a valuable set of skills that has served me well in life. But there was a lot of drama too. It left me emotionally exhausted, and I was in no rush to find another job. 

I wanted to go to college but I didn't have any money. So instead, I went to the library and brought home a mountain of books on subjects of all kinds. I would read most of the day and maybe apply for a job here and there. After Susan got on my case more than a few times, I finally put down my books and started to seriously look for work.

I rode a motorcycle back then. I had talked Susan into selling her car in exchange for two brand new motorcycles. It was the early 80s and we thought we looked slick, cruising around on our black and chrome Honda Shadows. The Shadow, sporting a lowered seat and slightly extended “easy rider” front forks, was first released that year. We were “stylin’.”

I don't know where I was headed the day I saw the sign for the San Antonio Zoo but as soon as I saw it, I got excited. Back then, the San Antonio Zoo was the third largest in the country, a fact they liked to boast about. 

I turned into the entrance and zipped into a parking space. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, I coolly got off my bike. Carrying my helmet, I  made a show of my motorcycle-rider swagger as I walked up to the gate attendant. 

“Can I speak to the manager?” I asked in a serious manner. “I’d like to apply for a job.” That's the way it worked back then. There was no such thing as applying online. The manager just happened to walk out of his office right then. He was a tall, fit man in his thirties with short, wavy, copper blond hair. He had smooth, tanned skin and a searching smile. His handsome features stood out to me, reminding me that some guys that look like him will take what they want. Making note, I manned up as best I could.

“I’d like to apply for a job,” I said, smiling bravely. He raised his eyebrows, gave me a once-over and said, “Let me take you for a tour.” Surprised and delighted, I stood up straight and summoned my most grown-up self. 

He took me around and described the different types of care required for all the exotic animals. I was fascinated, especially with the giraffes. I learned they could spit in a person's eye from 6 feet away! From then on I carefully calculated my distance each time I passed by one, eyeing the giant creature, while I was sure he was working up a good loogie.

At the end of the tour, the manager smiled and said, “I'm afraid we don't have any openings at this time.” Before I could check myself I glared at him, feeling miffed. Then, shrugging, I said, "Well maybe I could clean up the grounds, pick up garbage?" 

He shook his head, "Nah, I don't really need that, I have enough people." 

I quickly looked around and saw a piece of garbage lying on the ground about 10 feet away. I darted over, picked it up and put it in a nearby garbage can. I walked back over to him, raised my eyebrows and gave him the once-over, flouting an audacious smirk. He laughed out loud and shook his head. 

"Okay, go fill out an application. Come back tomorrow." He turned and walked toward his office. 

"Does that mean I have a job?" I shouted after him.

He turned to look at me and laughed again, shaking his head as he walked into his office.

I came back the next day, had an official interview and went straight to work. I was on the grounds crew, picking up garbage and cleaning bathrooms. I was perfectly content. I got to wear a zoo uniform and everything! I was so happy to be outside, walking around and learning about animals. I learned about humans too. We are messy creatures and can be quite uncaring about how we use public facilities. I also learned that, surprisingly, women are way more gross than men. 

After a few months of occasionally making a nuisance of myself (everyone wanted to work with the animals), I got the opportunity to shadow one of the animal caretakers. I was paired with a guy who worked with the primates. He told me, “You're mainly going to watch. Captive animals can be dangerous.”

I was completely engrossed, watching him do the rounds. It is another world, experiencing the lives of these animals and wondering what they would have been like if not in captivity. Remembering this as I write about it, I can feel my heart sinking. I can almost smell the mix of food, excrement, and wet cement.

“I might let you feed one of the gorillas—maybe," he said with a stern look. “You have to do exactly as I say, you cannot vary in any way. Do you understand?"

"Okay." I nodded, nervous and excited.

I followed him over to a large cage. There was a shed built off the back where the food was stored. To get to it, we had to go inside the barrier zone, a three-foot wide crushed gravel track all around the cage. Visitors stood outside of the track. We were walking along when I saw the smallish gorilla, probably 400 lbs or so, off in the corner of the cage. He didn't seem very interested in us. I focused on the handler to make sure I did everything exactly as he said. As we neared the entrance to the shed he turned slightly to say, "Now don't get too close to the...." Bam! Out of nowhere, that gorilla had moved like lightning and grabbed my hair, banging my head on the cage. I pulled away quickly and felt the blood drain from my face. The handler yelled "No!" to the gorilla, then yelled at me, "I told you not to get too close. Are you okay?" checking me to see if I was bleeding or scratched. I was completely fine, just a little stunned. “Stay right there,” he ordered. "God!" he growled at no one in particular.

I frowned and made eye contact with the gorilla. He looked right back at me. He seemed quite pleased with himself. We stared at each other for a few moments, then the handler said, "Come on!" I was happy to get going. I turned once more to look at my curious would-be suitor, who was still watching me. 

My favorite times in the park were the wee hours of the morning, way before the visitors arrived. It was peaceful. The animals liked to come out and enjoy the air and sunshine. I liked watching Monkey Island a lot. The monkeys were so entertaining. You can sometimes sense the sadness coming from animals in captivity, but I didn’t feel it around the monkeys. They seemed genuinely happy to be there. The hippos were friendly and curious. There was a short wall surrounding the hippo pool where visitors could safely lean over to see them.  I loved how, when I’d look over the wall, a delightful, lumpy, cartoon face would emerge from the water. The tigers and lions roared a lot in those early mornings, mostly because they knew their food was on the way. They almost never roared at other times, to the great disappointment of the visiting guests.

I’d like to say that I worked at that job for a long time, but it was probably only 5 or 6 months. I don’t remember why I ended up leaving, but I’ve never forgotten the experience. Remembering those early morning strolls around the park might be why I haven’t been able to bring myself to go to a zoo since. A few animals were content, but most of them seemed angry, sad, or lonely for their homes so far away.