The day was spent in the Desert Museum, ogling animals like javalinas, coyotes, ocelots, hummingbirds, scorpions, and various other desert animals. I have to say, when I think desert, my first thought is not seahorses, but they were there right alongside the Gila monsters. I must confess this museum visit was very reminiscent of my earlier childhood days where I would disregard the written summary of each exhibit and instead, gawk for a few seconds and then run to the next display. Picture a 10 year old Tom with untied shoes, running from glass case to glass case smudging each one with his sugar/dirt coated fingers saying “wooooaaaahhhh” as he stared at each snake. That’s basically how this day went. Oh and 10 year old Tom did a lot of glass tapping on the more boring animal’s cages. I’ve matured enough to resist that urge this time around, but man it was tough when some of them were just lying there, doing nothing. I paid my monies. I expect a song and dance from these animals. I got that at the predatory bird exhibit. I learned how badass Barn owls are, and how being a Falcon means you get to scare Asian tourists in one fell swoop.
I am curious to know what kind of conversation those trained birds were having before those invasive humans forced them to do tricks for us. I’d like to think it went a little something like this:
Bird 1: Well Jerry, I just don’t think that a two party system is a logical one for the current state of our government.
Bird 2: Who’s your favorite beanie baby?
Bird 3: Can you two keep it down? I’m trying to watch M.A.S.H.
Bird 2: Mine’s Pikachu.
Bird 1: Do you ever wonder to yourself ‘is this it?’ Like is our sole purpose in life to entertain these droves of talking meat bodies? There has to be something else?
Bird 3: If you’re planning on sparking another one of your famous half assed revolutions against the humans, can it at least wait until after the NCIS marathon on Friday?
Bird 2: I kind of like the attention they give us. It’s cute the way they stare at us with their half opened mouths, trying to catch us midflight with their camera phones.
Bird 3: I think I’ll poop on one this time around. It always gets a laugh.
Bird 1: I want to learn how to play bass guitar. Bassists always get girls.
Bird 3: What happened to your plot to overthrow the humans?
Bird 1: I just do whatever I think will get me laid.
Bird 2: Speaking of which, have you guys seen that new parakeet in the exotic birds exhibit? I think her name is Carol.
Bird 3: I don’t care how bright her feathers are, with a name like Carol, you know she’s not going to put out.
Bird 2: And how do you draw that conclusion?
Bird 3: Carol is a librarian name. Librarians don’t put out.
Bird 2: Are you serious? Librarians are freaks in bed. I bet I can get her to rustle her feathers before the end of the week.
Bird 1: You shouldn’t talk about ladybirds like poker chips. But I’ll put $50 on you.
Bird 3: Don’t you think by now this guy would have given us more creative names instead of Bird 1, Bird 2, and Bird 3? I mean Bird 2 was addressed earlier as Jerry, but then that was never revisited. It’s just poor character development is all I’m saying.
Bird 2: Which one of us do you think would be the best spy?
Trainer: Showtime you three.
Bird 3: Ugh, I’m totally going to poop on someone.
And that bird did in fact poop on an elderly woman. Get this….that old lady’s name was Carol. Six degrees of separation man, I’m telling you.
Well this was a waste of a post. I hope the pictures did more of the talking than me. Sorry.