This is me after a two zoo tour of Ohio. Ok, fine. This is a koala bear who lives at the Cleveland Metropark Zoo. If I was just a bit taller this guy would’ve been within reach. (There’s no glass, but there is a staff member keeping an eye on things and answering questions.) I mean, I would not touch the koala unless he for some reason touched me first. I’m just saying that the koala enclosure there is amazing; koalas in the trees and echidnas running around below … but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Friday was Don’s birthday and we both took a vacation day with the excellent plan of getting up earlyish and heading out to Ohio to take in both the Cleveland and the Columbus zoos over the weekend. (And leave us Sunday to chill before heading back to the business of being grownups.)

So after a leisurely breakfast we took our coffee to go and started off in a westerly direction into flatness filled with billboards saying things like, “I saw that — God” and fine examples of mid-century commercial architecture and signage going to complete waste. We got to the zoo a bit later than planned but still had several hours to mill around taking it in. There was so much to see we only managed to go through the main zoo and missed the rain forest area (a separate section on the other side of the main gate) completely, and this is excluding the North American section that was under renovation as well as the elephant habitat that is under construction. You really need to arrive when they open to see it all, and I’m just not sure that would even do it.

Expansive enclosures and viewing from multiple angles — even though the place was filled with people, you could easily find a place to stand and see the animals. The whole place is well thought out and it was such an enjoyable experience.

I absolutely had to include this stellar shot of hot ring-tailed lemur action. At no point in the New or Old World Monkey or Lemur areas of the Primate, Cat and Aquatics Building was there a moment where at least one resident wasn’t showing us his or her butt. “Oh you have a camera? Make sure you get my best side.”

After we left Cleveland we drove to our hotel in Columbus and found a Mongolian BBQ joint in the helpful area guide in our room. Unfortunately it was neither Mongolian or BBQ, but I had a ridiculously huge mango beverage with an alcohol content large enough to hopefully kill whatever else the restaurant introduced to my system.  And to be sure, and because that’s how I am, I added a couple glasses of wine before ending Day One.

Remarkably I was not hungover in the morning and woke up with plenty of time to hit breakfast downstairs before checking out and making our way to the Columbus Zoo & Aquarium. And oh! We certainly needed that time! Do you have any idea how huge the Columbus Zoo is? Something like 250 acres — and they’re not even finished yet.

After checking out the daunting map we started, coffee in hand (they have a coffee shop right as you enter) with the North American section hoping we could work our way through the rest before evening. One of the first exhibits we saw is home to two gigantic “teenage” Kodiak bear brothers who were frolicking. No seriously, frolicking is a good word choice here. They were running around, in and out of the water and wrestling each other, snorting and harrumphing and being watched intently by the nearby grizzly lady. We stood and watched them too with a small group of onlookers for several minutes and it was probably the greatest zoo moment of my zoo-going life. And with coffee!

We saw sleeping wolverines and lounging moose ladies (the fella was out of sight) and a bobcat. Basically the morning was chilly and full of mostly sleeping animals (and coffee). It wasn’t until it got warmer out that ridiculous things started happening.

First, we’re looking at tortoise and a woman pushing a stroller barrels into the viewing area squealing “Lookit the big turtle! See the big turtle!”

Then, we’re sitting on a bench watching the bonobos and another woman with a stroller keeps saying “Do you see the monkeys? Can you say monkey?” Finally a bonobo runs up and slaps the glass in front of a small child who was dancing on the ledge while her mother also was going on about monkeys, which didn’t make them stop calling them monkeys but did make the kid cry, which I enjoyed.

As we continued on the path around the bonobos in the direction both of the obnoxious women had come from, we passed a huge sign that reads “We Are Not Monkeys!” Maybe this sign ought to be larger and duplicated on the pavements and maybe even on the glass of the viewing areas where no one could miss it. They could have speakers positioned in the landscaping around the place with a friendly voice reminding people that bonobos and gorillas are not monkeys. We have the technology for voice recognition — when someone says “the monkeys” (as opposed to “not monkeys”) the recorded reminder could switch to a less friendly admonishing tone. They could also run metal rods through the walkways and shock ‘em for good measure.

If you think for a minute that I am joking, you are mistaken, and if you think that it doesn’t matter if you call apes monkeys, you are not simply mistaken but also incredibly short sighted. People who do not learn enough about animals are people who do not value them. When children learn about the differences between species they also learn about those that are extinct and they are able to better grasp conservation efforts. If all “monkeys” are the same to you, you aren’t going to care if some of them die out. You aren’t going to appreciate the connections between species that seem completely different, and you’re going to miss the basic principals of biology — information that key to understanding your body, health, medicine, and the world around you just to name a few areas involved.

When there are middle aged people passing on complete ignorance to their children — people who are pushing around fancy strollers and carrying pricey diaper bags — you have to wonder who failed them. What is wrong with science education in this country that people are graduating high school without knowing that guinea pigs are not earless rabbits and that mice are not baby rats?

At least the gorilla area wasn’t surrounded by a cloud of bottom shelf Stupid. And their enclosure looked like the most fun playground ever.  They were climbing up and down ladders and had platforms and catwalks all over the place, with ropes and toys. I was never much of a daredevil child, but this was a setup I would’ve been into.

We happened to be in the indoor gorilla area right at 2pm when they have a scheduled keeper talk. She talked about the different family groups that live there, and Colo, the oldest living gorilla born in captivity. And we saw a wee one all snug in the arms of his stand-in mama, laying right in front of the window. They could not have been any closer to it — basically exactly not where I would be lounging, but wow — stunning. How anyone could not love gorillas, I will never understand.

Do you see this? This came from my four year old digital camera that was a decent one five years ago. No zoom, just cropped. We were so close to the elephants. Anytime I can be close to elephants (without worry of being trampled) is a good time.

Really, these were the nicest zoos I’ve been to and I couldn’t have asked for better company. I would not have imagined having such a good time in Ohio. (Not to diss Ohio, but it is just like where I live, except flatter, so this I feel was justifiable surprise.) More photos from the trip are in this gallery.

Saturday we went to the Pittsburgh Zoo & Aquarium. It was … disappointing. There are no giant anteaters or fruit bats or ring-tailed lemurs. And the leopard doesn’t have anything to climb on except for a wee hut that is so low to the ground it wouldn’t take much effort to step on. The penguins seem crowded and stand facing the walls of their enclosure, sort of rocking back and forth a bit — not unlike the inmates at Arkham Asylum. There’s a transparent tunnel you walk through in the aquarium where you are surrounded by sharks — which is cool for you but I imagine is fairly frustrating for them. Here look at all these tasty toddlers that you can’t eat, guys. Seems kinda jerky, to me.

I don’t remember feeling particularly bummed by the Philadelphia Zoo as a child. I hated that the peacocks were not protected from horrible people who wanted to steal their tail feathers — but I don’t really recall being overwhelmed with sadness looking at the animals, and yet, I feel like I was much more sympathetic as a child. I don’t really have the best memory though, so maybe it’s always like this in a zoo.

It’s not like I don’t feel like zoos are important. I just feel like there ought to be enclosures that make sense for the animals that are stuck in them.

The new polar bear enclosure is pretty fancy. You can walk underneath the tank and see them swimming above you if you catch them when they’re in a swimming mood. This lady up above is one of the new pair of female polar bears acquired this year. They were smaller than I thought they’d be, but I think I read that they’re still fairly young. Or not as old as the fellas, at least.

This is stately lady was trying to get a little privacy so she could powder her nose, but having no other choice, she let lose an epic piss which excited the assembled crowd of phenomenally stupid children and parents. To be honest the children might’ve let out a chorus of Eeeewwwwwws but a lot of the parents were acting offended — like the elephant was being rude. One lady pulled her son away from the viewing area, and he wasn’t even looking at her. “Mom what’s wrong? Where are we going? Did you see the baby elephant running? His ears were all flapping. Can I see him for a minute?” Jeez.

I really didn’t get many photos because the children and over sized stroller mommies kept swarming and jostling us away. Well, mostly just me because I’m not tall like D. At one point I felt like unleashing s stream of f-bombs just to get the mommies to yank their kids away from me. I was good though.

Speaking of dumb jerks at the zoo — there was a guy wearing a Michael Vick jersey. At The Zoo. He had a gaggle of obnoxious tween boys with him and every single one of them needed to be pushed into the piranha tank. Only in Pittsburgh, folks, y’know?

Eventually we tired of getting hit with doublewide strollers filled with babies too young to know where they were or what was going on, and we got out of there. I stopped at the gift shop to pick up a shot glass for one of the Bleiman bros, had a wtf moment staring at a display of stuffed hot pink penguins and lime green elephants, found a sweet elephant t-shirt for D and then we fled in search of food that wasn’t an odd combination of gross and overpriced. (I wanted very badly to take a photo of the ice cream place across from the zoo, but there wasn’t time before the light changed. It’s called Ice Cream Station Zebra. No lie.)

After a delicious meal at Taco Loco we went to a show D’s friend put together; a band out of Chicago called The Atomica Project. Not really my thing (I’ve never been into Portishead) but the singer had a great voice, and the first few songs were lovely. Maybe I was just super tired from wandering around all day, but I was psyched to go home and fall asleep with my own big cats (and one very small cat.)

Sunday involved pancakes and Watchmen. There was an elderly couple sitting next to me and each time there was some full frontal Dr. Manhattan on screen the little old lady would gasp — every single time and it never got old for me. I loved her. When it was over, I heard her say to her fella, “Oh my!”

This morning my bus buddy didn’t know that woodchucks are groundhogs, then expressed doubt about this most true fact, and then going even farther, insisted that woodchucks are beavers. (Reasoning: beavers “eat” wood therefore, woodchuck.) This turned into a really dividing debate between our fellow riders. I’ve never been so astounded by a conversation in my life. Beavers = woodchucks? “They’re like really big rabbits,” someone contributed. “Right, and those things you get in pet stores. The rabbits without ears. Only in the wild they’re much bigger, like how it is with pet mice and real mice,” added another. I’m still completely rattled by the morning’s commute. I always figured animals were the most universally interesting part of biology so that ought to be the part of science class that sunk in, at least a bit, right? For a while I thought I was being punked, but no. They resolved to Google it and settle the matter tomorrow. Maybe next week we can come to a consensus on how magnets work.

So just a PSA, in case you were in the bathroom smokin’ up during that bio class (apparently the one day I wasn’t) it goes like this:

• Kingdom Animalia
• Phylum Chordata
• Class Mammalia
• Order Rodentia
• Family Sciuridae (ground squirrels — our friend the beaver is in family Castoridae)
• Tribe Marmotini (where the marmots, prairie dogs, gophers, and spiny and palm squirrels part ways)
• Genus Marmota (marmots, tarvagas, Tibetan snow pigs — no lie)

Marmots are ground squirrels that mostly live in mountainous regions, in burrows, are highly social and unlike most other members of Sciuridae, they communicate by whistling. Other than size and habitat, the main differences between groundhogs and the rest of the marmots that have “marmot” in their common names are that they live in low-laying areas instead of rockier mountain regions, and their ability to predict the weather they have their own holiday.

So you can call a groundhog a marmot, and you won’t be wrong. You can also call it a woodchuck or a whistlepig (except hoary marmots are also called whistlepigs, and thanks to AA Milne, gophers are saddled with whistly-lisps in pop culture and over the years acquired the nickname in some areas – so it’s not very specific). And apparently you could call them “land beavers” but I think that’s straddling the boundary of acceptable artistic license, and I wish you wouldn’t.

I’ve made some very scientific visuals for comparison, to spare you the ookiness of doing an image search for “beaver”. Beavers have webbed feet and scaly, paddle-shaped tails (Figure 1). As you can see from Figure 2, groundhogs have cutewiddlefuzzy tails and enjoy posing for pictures.

Why do I know all this about marmots? In 1997 I had to write a paper on colony behavior changes in hoary marmot populations during food shortages. I can understand not knowing what a marmot is, especially if you don’t live in common marmot areas. They all pretty much look alike if your only experience with them is in their roadkill stage of development. And I can totally see someone confusing gophers with groundhogs, since they look so much alike too. But with a beaver? Really?

I wonder what my bus friends would think if they were faced with a capybara.