Night Safari

Good evening, everybody.

Before we begin our tour, please take a moment to make sure your seat belts are securely fastened. If you’re traveling with children, please double-check their seat belts or hold them securely in your laps.

Though the animals are secure in their habitats, we do ask that you remain seated at all times, and under no circumstance should you exit the People Mover before the completion of our tour.

Finally, our animals are fed a scientifically formulated diet on a strictly monitored meal plan. Please do not throw food into the animal enclosures. Don’t throw anything.

Now that we’ve covered that. Covered all those rules. This handsome guy here is your driver, Moustapha. My name is Gary. And I’ll be your tour guide . . . on the Night Safari.

Here we go.

You seem like a fun group.

Our first stop is Central America. If you look to your right, you’ll see the Panamanian night monkey. From the genus Aotus, which is Latin for “without ears.” Which just is not true, really, they have ears, they’re just very small. The Panamanian night monkey is the only truly nocturnal monkey. They are an arboreal species, meaning they live in trees.

Yeah, you can see he doesn’t like that flash.

In captivity the Panamanian night monkey is monogamous and lives about twenty years; in the wild, they are not monogamous, and their life expectancy is cut roughly in half. There’s a lesson there somewhere, but you’re going to have to figure it out for yourself. The Night Safari frowns on editorializing.

Let’s move along, Moustapha. We have a lot of animals to see.

At the conclusion of our tour, the People Mover will let you out at our Night Safari gift shop. Tell them Gary sent you, and you can get ten percent off your purchase of any of our furry collectibles. Find a girl there named Rhonda and specifically tell her that Gary sent you. The Panamanian night monkey is a very popular item, Rhonda tells me. He wears a nameplate that identifies him as “Waffles.” I’m not sure why the people who make the furry collectibles felt like they needed to give the animals cute names. Personally, I find “Waffles” not as interesting as “Panamanian night monkey,” but I guess that’s a matter of personal preference. Regardless, our animals do not wear nameplates, thank Christ.

It’s a short trip from Central America to the shrublands of southern Africa, not really, where you will find, if you look to your left, one of my favorites, the aardwolf. Some of you might think that the aardwolf is related to the aardvark, and you just couldn’t be much more wrong. The aardwolf, or Proteles cristata for those scoring at home, is actually a relative of the hyena family. Not a close relative, more like a distant cousin who shows up only at the reunion and you’re not really sure how you’re related to him. You don’t really like him either, which isn’t fair, because you don’t know him, and after all, he is related to you, so shouldn’t you at least feel a little familial attachment? But he’s physically unattractive and what is with this attitude?

Like many of our animals, the aardwolf lives at night largely to protect itself from predators. A lot of these animals haven’t evolved the greatest defenses, and the aardwolf is a prime example of that. When being stalked as prey, some of the weapons in the aardwolf’s arsenal include doubling back over its own footprints—a rarely effective evasive maneuver; I seem to recall watching that not work on an old episode of F Troop—and emitting a nasty smelling liquid from its anus, which I can only imagine is somewhat more effective. In fact, if I were an aardwolf, and believe me, there have been times when I wish that were so, I think I would skip the doubling-back maneuver and go straight to the anus liquid.

Please don’t throw that. What is that, a churro? Don’t throw churros. Please don’t let him throw churros. If you had termites, you could throw those. The aardwolf loves termites. Aardwolves are actually quite handy to have around if you live on a farm, because they eat termites and other insects. But farmers shoot them anyway, mistakenly believing that the aardwolves are preying on their stock. Who knows, maybe the farmers just like shooting at animals.

Okay, Moustapha.

Oh, look up and to your right, folks, and you’ll see a good old-fashioned boreal owl. These fantastic birds are found in the northern woodlands of North America. They’re considered “unsociable,” but maybe they’ve just had a tough time out in the world and so they find it easier being alone. Maybe they’re not so comfortable around others, is that a crime? What’s so great about the sociable animals, anyway? How much are they obscuring their true nature to make themselves sociable?

Another interesting fact about the boreal owl is that they are completely monogamous . . . as long as the mouse supply is sparse. But if they find themselves living in a situation where the mouse supply is plentiful, suddenly it’s Playboy After Dark. And believe me, these gals in here get plenty of mice. I’ve seen it happen, you know what I mean? Just ask Rhonda in the gift shop, she’ll tell you.

The boreal owl. Aegolius funereus. Like me, he’s from North America. Like me, he’s found himself sweating his ass off in an enclosure in Southeast Asia. Like me, he’s a part of the Night Safari. He doesn’t care about you. Let’s keep this party going.

Now over to your left you’ll find the slow loris. Slow loris. What’s the matter, loris not moving fast enough for you? Mr. Animal Labeler Man? Why the pejorative? The loris, like the sloth, has developed a fascinating defense against predators: just move real slow. Surprisingly, this works. Well, it works for them. It doesn’t work for all of us. Because I guess I haven’t gotten anywhere fast enough to please some people, and believe me, if you’re a man and you’re north of forty and your ship hasn’t come in . . . right, Rhonda?! Y’know what, just call me Slow Gary.

Look how slow that little bastard’s moving. Know why? Look back there at that boreal owl. Watch his eyes. His eyes will tell you everything.

Moustapha. Onward.

Now normally I’d be showing you the ball python. People like the snakes, and you would like this guy too, but you’re not getting him, and yes, you paid the same amount as the people who normally do get to see him. But the ball python is estivating. Can anyone tell me what that means?

That’s what I figured. Estivation is like hibernation, but without the commitment. Imagine that the ball python is like your husband. He gets very little exercise, has eaten a large hunk of meat, and he’s now curled up in his La-Z-Boy, watching the ball game. In other words, he’s not in such great shape, not like, say, the Malay Fire Eater. Perhaps you saw him performing out front? Really, it’s so embarrassing, he’s such a cultural parody, oiled, in his loincloth, with that canned drum music playing behind him. Swear to Christ, put a bone through his nose and have him say “ooga-booga.” But hey, I can’t deny he’s in terrific shape, he’s a lot younger than me, and yeah, sure, Rhonda, there’s a great future in this whole fire-eating thing. How could she go for that guy?

In the pool to your right, you’ll see the paradoxical frog. He’s called “paradoxical” because the tadpole version of himself is actually bigger than the adult frog version. Imagine that, if you can . . . dwindling as you mature. The more wisdom and experience you gain, the less of you there is. Imagine that our journey from life to death was a gradual diminishment. Dwarfed by nature and competition. Rendered obsolete by comparison. Isn’t that what life at night is all about? It’s for those who can’t hack it in the daylight so they live in starlight shadows.

Losing locomotion and volume until they simply no longer register. Too small to count.

We’re leaving this pool now, so that’s my cue to remind you to eat in the Night Safari restaurant. There’s a scripted joke here about Burt Reynolds visiting the Night Safari and how he likes to Dinah Shore. But I can’t even pretend anymore. And I don’t think Burt Reynolds has ever really been here.

Don’t you worry, lady, there’s still a lot of animals to look at. Your kid can feed churros to the black rhino and the gray wolf. God’s creatures, here for your infotainment. Find a girl in the gift shop named Rhonda, tell her Gary sent you. Tell her I’m sorry.

Tell her I miss her. Watch her eyes. Her eyes will tell you everything.

Read more from Issue 16.2.