The Art of the "Wow" Factor

"You know, the first attraction I built when I came down from Scotland was a flea circus.  Petticoat Lane.  Really, quite wonderful.  We had a wee trapeze, a merry-go... carousel.  And a seesaw.  They all moved, motorized of course, but people would say they could see the fleas, 'Oh mommy, I can see the fleas, can't you see the fleas?'  Clown fleas, high-wire fleas, fleas on parade.  But with this place, I wanted to give them something that wasn't an illusion.  Something that was real.  Something they could see, and touch."

- Jurassic Park

My lifelong dream of designing and building my own zoo - preferably with an unlimited budget, mind you - had a few root causes.  First and foremost was my love of animals, my desire to be surrounded by them and to give them the best possible habitats under my care.  I'm not ashamed, however, to admit that there was a puckish element to it also - a flair for showmanship.  I saw designing a zoo as an artform in itself, a chance to create a magical experience like no other.

Two experiences bookend this later motive of mine, both of which took place at the National Zoo.

I still remember visiting the National Zoo as a child shortly after the famous O-Line - that marvelous series of towers and cables that snakes along the main path - opened, allowing orangutans to swing over the heads of guests.  I didn't realize how lucky I was to see the apes above me on that first visit - in subsequent trips to DC, I only rarely see them climbing it.  What I did realize, however, even at that young age, was what a unique, special experience it was.  Never mind that I had never seen an orangutan in the flesh before at all - I knew that what I was seeing was different than I would see when visiting an orangutan at any other zoo.  Someone had really thought outside of the box when planning this, I realized later, and I wondered how much doubt and derision they must have overcome to turn this into a reality.

Decades later, I was visiting the National Zoo again, this time in the company of a friend from South America on his first trip to the United States.  Amid the elephants and lions and, of course, pandas, I almost neglected to take him to Amazonia.  What could a zoo rainforest building offer to a man who had hiked through the real Amazon on several occasions, I thought?  Well, we went in anyway - and he was transfixed.  Not by the parrots or monkeys, but by the fish.  His country had several zoos, but no public aquariums, and the rivers he had explored were far too dark and turbid to see into.  He parked himself in front of the massive aquarium of arapaima, pacu, and other giant river fish, and he was spellbound.  He had walked alongside rivers that naturally held these species.  He had seen them hooked or netted and hauled onto land, destined for the meat markets.  But he had never thought of what it would be like to see them, alive and eye-to-eye, as they swam by him, inches away.

I'm a lot older than I was when I first watched an orangutan climb overhead, but on lucky occasions, I still find a zoo experience that leaves me spellbound.   There is a facility in Alberta, Canada (the unoriginally-named polar bear habitat) where you can swim - in pools separated by some extremely strong glass - alongside polar bears.  At the San Antonio Zoo, on special occasions you can try your strength in a tug-of-war with a lion (spoiler alert - you will lose).  At Disney's Animal Kingdom Lodge, you can wake up in the morning and saunter out of your hotel room to be greeted by herds of African ungulates.  At plenty of zoos, there is a chance to have some interaction with animals, whether it's a kangaroo walk-through, a lorikeet feeding aviary, or a giraffe-feeding station.


Polar Bear Habitat, Toronto Star

I think a lot about the dreamer who first imagined an experience where orangutans travel overhead, swinging carelessly above dazzled visitors.  It was a risky idea, but it has worked marvelously.  I wonder what brilliant, crazy ideas are locked in the heads of zookeepers, aquarists, and curators as I type this, just waiting for the chance to be given life.  I wonder when next I'll be spellbound.  I wonder if I'll ever have the idea - and the means to create it - that will captivate a crowd of my own.