The Wonder of Giraffes

   Theo may not admit it, but he's a giraffe enthusiast. 

     He takes after me. The giraffe is the most wonderful of animals. They are elegant and gentle, smart and always eating. I think that the always eating or snacking appeals to Theo. When you see a giraffe saunter by, whether in a zoo or in the wild, they are chewing. This is based on their own peculiar digestive system which double digests all the food they consume. 

       Although cats differ from giraffes, they, too seem to be always eating or wanting to always eat. 

     Fast forward. I would love to report we're on safari in Kenya, in the bush on the lookout for giraffes (and I have been in that position), but we're only at the zoo. It's our good luck they house three giraffes. All female. All beautiful. All always eating.

     We move up close to the fenced-in-area where the giraffes live. They are outside, moving from the left side of their site to the right and we are both mesmerized. They float over the ground as they walk. 

      Theo wants to see everything. If he could, he'd jump out of my arms and sneak into their habitat, saunter beside them on the dusty ground. I can almost hear his cat thinking . . . I wonder what they smell like. If I could only sniff them. 

       "This is as close as we can get," I whisper. 

        Still he's making every effort to sniff what he can. The breezes that blow past must have some giraffe scent. 

         Because the giraffes are so popular, the zoo has instituted a chance to interact with the giraffes. For a few bucks, you can hold out a few branches with edible leaves (from the giraffe's point of view). The giraffes will begin eating the leaves practically out of your hand. The kids love it. Well, most of them do. (The ones that aren't scared out of their wits.)

         Giraffes have big heads or rather gigantic heads. When they lean down to eat, you can see how truly big they are. Their long black tongues extend out of their mouth as they grab onto and literally pull (they are amazingly strong animals for all their grace) the branch and suck up the leaves. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp. 

          Theo looks longingly at the kids who are lined up. Each is holding a branch they will feed to the waiting giraffes. I watch the process closely. Kid extends arm with waiting branch, coached by mom or dad. Giraffe swoops down and grabs hold of the branch. Said giraffe yanks it--usually--out of the kid's hand while mom and dad hold onto junior for dear life. Someone is usually taking a video! 

          I can read Theo's mind.

          "Too dangerous."

           He pouts.

           "Just watch . . . when that giraffe grabs hold of the branch, he could lift you up into the air and then . . . smack down you fall onto the hard dirt."

            Not a pretty picture. And I'm not exaggerating. 

            But I feel sorry for Theo. He's restless and wants a bit of adventure. I imagine for a moment going up there--on the feeding platform--while holding Theo who grasps the branch in his mouth. The giraffe will swoop down . . .

            That's as far as I get. How will Theo react when the giraffe is hovering over him? How will the giraffe react when he smells Theo, who isn't quite human? Too risky. Too dangerous.

           But I relent. 

          The line of kids is long. It is sunny and hot. Theo is a little squirmy and a bit overwhelmed by the prospect. He wants to do it. He tells me he needs to do it. But then . . .

           We're the next ones in line. The kid in front of us is not a happy camper. As the giraffe swoops down, the kid panics and drops the branch. He cries. Out of fear or shame? A commotion ensues. 

           I look at Theo and he looks at me. "There's always another day," I say, quietly stepping out of line. We wait and watch the giraffes moving back and forth. Then we leave to get ice cream and magically both feel better.  

 

             

  

    

Chuck And Jethro, the Giraffe--It's Complicated

     I love to tell the story that I kissed a giraffe years ago while on safari in Kenya. Her name was Daisy. There's a trick to it. You put a nugget of food between your lips, and the giraffe swoops down to retrieve the food. That contact, when her long black tongue (which is about 18 inches long) touches your lips--very gently--is the kiss.  

    The giraffe is the tallest living terrestrial animal so if you want that kiss you have to stand on a platform. Their heads are also big--much bigger than you imagine if you've only seen them from a distance--so you must remain calm as they move in closer. You also have to buy into the marketing that goes something like this: Giraffes have the cleanest mouths of all the animals in the wild. Sounds good. It could be true. Probably is. But how clean are all the other animals' mouths? Just what am I comparing a giraffe to? 

    But it's a magical experience. 

    Chuck heard the kissing Daisy story, of course, and most likely harbored a secret longing to kiss a giraffe like Daisy himself. I could see the twinkle in his eye whenever I mentioned Daisy or giraffes in general.  

    "That was Kenya, Chuck. In Africa. Trust me. I was visiting a giraffe sanctuary in Nairobi (www.giraffecenter.org). No one is kissing giraffes in America. The best we can do is gaze at them in awe and/or feed them." 

    In a zoo or sanctuary. 

    Even feeding a giraffe is never easy. In Kenya if you happen upon a giraffe in the wild, you are seeing them from a distance. Getting close enough to feed them would be difficult. They rarely sleep and have an excellent sense of smell. They are kind, gentle creatures, except when they feel threatened. They can run up to 35 mph, but if they decide to stay and fight, a giraffe's kick can severely wound or kill, even a lion.

    Chucky listens to all the vital information about giraffes. I have tons of photos because they are my favorite animal. Dan and l think Chuck knows what to expect. 

    Chuck's best option is a wild animal park in Pennsylvania. There you can feed a giraffe named Jethro. This amazing animal park schedules feedings several times a day. Chucky seems primed and ready to go. 

    Our first glimpse of Jethro is when he glides out of his habitat to take a look before he appears on stage. Giraffes walk differently than most four legged animals. They move their front and back legs on the right side together when they take a step. The same thing happens on the left side. That's why they look as if they're gliding along the ground.

    Jethro is amazingly popular, and when he comes out, it seems like every single person who has come to the animal park that day has gathered there to feed Jethro. Everyone has a handful of carrots to give him. The crowd is bursting with excitement. Moms, dads, kids, grandparents, teenagers, and well, everybody, is talking and laughing, pointing and snapping photos. 

Jethro is the star of the show. 

    My lovely sister Cyndi is the test case. She somehow manages to make it to the front of the crowd. With her carrots. She gets to reach out and wait while Jethro mosies over and eats the carrots out of her hand. To see a giraffe's face so close up--it's priceless. 

     I can feel Chuck next to me watching everything. I'm thinking he's just dying to get closer to Jethro. Undoubtedly, he imagines me picking him up and hauling him through the crowd so he can look Jethro in the eye--cat to giraffe--and sniff him.  

    After Cyndi is finished, I hand her my cell phone and make my way up to the front. I am test case number two. I know it's silly but I reach out and pet Jethro. I only have a few seconds of ecstasy because there is a plethora of anxious everybodies who want a chance to touch or feed this wonderful giraffe. 

    It's now Chucky's turn. I reach down to pick him up, but he backs away. What? A change of heart? I'm truly astounded. I try again, figuring he just needs a moment. But no, Chucky has decided--sniffing Jethro, coming face to face, nose to nose, is not his cup of tea.

    Later when I try to talk it out with him, try to figure out why he had the sudden change of heart, I get absolutely nowhere. Only then I realize that, perhaps, Chucky is more lion than I've given him credit for. Everyone knows lions and giraffes don't mix. Maybe it's instinctive, and I need to let it be. It's complicated.