Читать книгу The Zoo Book - Enid blyton - Страница 3

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There are all sorts of things to be seen in London—museums, Parliament, the Tower, picture galleries, the ships on the Thames—but best and most interesting of all, the Zoo. Animals are exciting—they are alive and moving, they eat and drink and play, and at the Zoo you can watch them doing all these things.

You read in your books about the lion of Africa, king of all the beasts, the jumpity kangaroo of Australia, and the great bison of America, and you think you would love to go exploring over the world to find these interesting animals and see them for yourself Perhaps you will some day, but until then there is the Zoo to explore, and there you will find most of the animals you want to see. There you can watch polar bears splashing in their pond, and see the giraffe stretching up his long neck to nibble at his food. You can hear the lions roar, and you can ride on the elephant, or on the camel. You can feed the monkeys and laugh at their funny ways and mischievous looks. There are so many lovely things to do that you could not possibly crowd them all into one day.

The London Zoo is a splendid one. The proper name is “The Garden of the Zoological Society of London.” This Society (which perhaps you will belong to some day) is made up of all sorts of people who, by paying so much money a year, become “Fellows,” and are allowed, if they wish, to attend the many interesting meetings of the Society. There are between four and five thousand “Fellows”—and you must not think Fellows means only men, it means women, too. The Society is governed by a Council which has to be elected each year.

Perhaps you wonder how the Zoo first began. Well, far back in the nineteenth century, about a hundred years ago, there was formed the first “Zoological Society of London.” People did not take nearly so much interest in animals then as they do now. Often they were cruel to them because they did not understand them. They knew very little of their ways, and still less of the reasons for many interesting things. Most people had no idea, for instance, why tigers were striped and giraffes spotted, and as there were no books then which were as beautifully illustrated with photographs and pictures as there are now, probably many people would not have known which was the tiger and which was the giraffe, if you had shown them the two animals!

So people who cared for animals, and who wanted to learn more about them, formed themselves into a society under the leadership of Sir Stamford Raffles—and the Zoo gardens, with the first animals on show, were opened on April 27th, 1828, nearly a century ago. Soon it will be the hundredth anniversary of the Zoo, and I wonder what will be done to celebrate it, don’t you? What a pity there is no animal at the Zoo now who was there when it was first opened! He ought to hold a party! But only tortoises could be expected to live so long—they are sleepy enough to let a hundred years slip by unnoticed.

There are a great many people at the Zoo to look after the animals and the gardens. There are a few people whose duty it is to look after the general affairs of their section of animals—they are called curators. There is a curator of mammals and birds, a curator of reptiles and of the Aquarium, and a curator of insects. Then there are a good many head keepers, and a head gardener, besides more than a hundred other keepers, under-gardeners and workmen. For not only do the animals have to be looked after, but also the Zoo gardens, which are very trim and well kept all the year round.

The Zoo is a big place, and a pleasant place. It is divided into three parts, called the South Garden, the North Garden, and the Middle Garden. Tunnels and bridges connect up these gardens. They are very different now from what they were when they were first opened. New ideas are always being thought of, and the animals are better cared for, better fed, and better housed than they used to be. Some years ago the Mappin Terraces were built, in order that the sheep and goats might have plenty of room to run and jump, leap and spring as they would naturally if they were in their native place. Big artificial hills were built, with caves here and there for the animals to shelter inside when they wished. You will see how much the animals enjoy these hills when you watch them leaping and jumping all over the slopes and ledges. Then just below these hills were built big new enclosures for the bears, paddocks for the deer, and a crescent-shaped paddock with a pool for water-fowl. There you can see the graceful flamingoes standing on one leg, or wading in the water.

And now one of the finest things in the Zoo is finished, and that is the splendid new aquarium, which is a wonderful place, full of fascinating creatures. You will read all about it later on in this book. Now that that is finished, there will probably be other ideas thought of, and the Zoo will become a more and more interesting place every year.

Perhaps you sometimes think, when you see one or two animals pacing up and down their cages, “How cruel to keep so many beasts caged up so that people may come and look at them!” But you must remember that they are very well treated, are free from all danger of enemies, and have no fear of going hungry. Probably most of them would say, “We’d rather stay at the Zoo, thank you,” if they were given the choice now, of staying to be looked after, or running wild again! Of course there are some animals who would never get used to being caged—the wild cat for instance—but most of them are contented and happy. Many too have been born in the Zoo, and have known no other life.

There are probably over 4,000 creatures of all kinds to be seen at the Zoo, and you will find there almost any animal you would like to see. The more you see them the more you will want to see them, and to get to know them. If you are really fond of animals, they will soon find it out, and make friends with you. There are some lucky people who are able to go into the cage of almost any animal and talk to it or stroke it. They love and understand animals, and the animals love them in return.

Perhaps you will be one of the lucky ones!

FEEDING TIME.—Most of the animals are glad when feeding-time comes, though some of them, like the alligators, for instance, sometimes make no attempt to take their food when it is given to them, and may go without for one or two days. Some animals are disgusting to watch when they are being fed, and some are not at all interesting. The hyænas have no manners, and simply gulp their food savagely. The crocodiles snap quickly and wickedly, and so do the alligators. The eagles are not very nice to watch, for they are so savage and fierce over their meat.

Every one goes to see the lions fed some time or other. Perhaps you have been. They are fed at four o’clock, and long before that time people drift into the Lion House and climb up the steps to the back of the house and wait. They stand there watching the lions and tigers, and wondering when the keeper will come along with the food. More and more people come in. Children stand all along the steps. Then the great cats begin to stir out of their drowsiness; they see the gathering crowds, and they know their feeding-time is near. One by one they yawn and stretch themselves. Some of them get up and look through the bars at the people and swish their strong tails from side to side. Perhaps they are wishing that the bars were not there, for they are very hungry.

Then the tigers begin pacing up and down, to and fro, round and back again. When is that keeper coming? One of the tigers roars a great echoing roar that seems to rush all round the Lion House and fill every corner with its sound. Then a lion answers with another booming roar—it is a frightening sound even when you know there are bars between the lions and you. It is just the sort of noise you would expect great animals like lions and tigers to make. Perhaps the others think they will join the concert to-day, and then the Lion House is filled with a tremendous outburst of booming roars that seem to echo round you and by you and behind you.

More and more people crowd into the Lion House until it is packed full, and feels very hot, and smells musty. When is that keeper coming? It is just four o’clock. Is he going to be late? Oh, look! The lions have heard something we have not—some far-away sound of an opening door perhaps; they pace up and down and roar again—the keeper is coming! Yes, here he is, wheeling his trolley along by the rails. He comes to a cage—up goes the bar, and in goes the joint of meat. The lion is crouching down, waiting. It grabs the meat quickly and takes it to the back of the cage—you can hear the crunch of the teeth and the savage scrape, scrape of the rough tongue!

And soon all the great cats are fed, and their roaring stops. They do not take long over their food—and once again you will see them lying peacefully down after their meal, drowsy and lazy, watching the crowds of people file out of the house.

I think once or twice is enough to see the lions fed. The house is so crowded and so hot, and the roaring is not a pleasant sound. I think most people are glad when the lion feeding is over and they can go out again into the open air. “And now where shall we go to?” they say.

“Oh, let’s go and see the sea-lions fed!” say the children, and run off towards their big rocky pond.

I would far rather see the sea-lions fed than the lions. The lions simply stand and wait and eat, but the sea-lions are as good as a circus! They are clever and tame, and the best catchers in the world! They would make simply splendid cricketers.

There is nearly always a crowd round the sea-lions’ pond at half-past four, their feeding-time. The railings are black with children, the steps are full of people. The sea-lions and the seals know that their feeding-time is near, and the crowd excites them. They begin to bark loudly—aark—aark—aark! It is a tiresome bark, and I should not like a dog with a bark like theirs! Then into the water they go, splash and ripple, across the pond and back again!

Half-past-four! The keeper unlocks the gate. He has a basketful of shining fish, and he goes to stand by the pond edge. And now you can see a really fine exhibition of throwing and catching. I don’t know which is the cleverer of the two—the keeper or the sea-lions!

Up into the air goes the gleaming whiting, and then another and another. Seals and sea-lions plunge about in the water, catch the fish in their mouths, gulp, swallow, and are off for another, quick as lightning! The water churns and ripples as the sleek grey bodies flash in and out and round about, almost too quick to follow!

The keeper goes on throwing here, there and everywhere; he knows to an inch where to throw the fish and exactly how many each animal has had, for he has to see that each seal and sea-lion gets his fair share. Even the patient seal who waits near by is not forgotten, and he gets his feast of shining fish in between the keeper’s throwing.

Then a fish is thrown up on to a high rock. A sea-lion sees it going with his quick, observant eyes. Then you see him lift his huge wet body out of the water, and up the rocks he climbs, leaving a dark, wet trail behind him. He finds the fish and gulps it down. Then he flippers himself to the edge of the rock and waits. Perhaps he barks at the keeper to tell him he is waiting to show how well he catches. Whizz! Through the air goes a gleaming fish, straight to the sea-lion’s mouth! What a good throw, and what a good catch! Gulp! The fish is gone, and the sea-lion waits for another. Here it comes, curving through the air, and another, and another, and another! The sea-lion catches them all, every one. Then the keeper plays him a trick. He throws a fish just short of the rocky ledge where the sea-lion waits, so that it will fall into the water. “Ah, you can’t catch that!” the watching crowd thinks. But the sea-lion knows that trick very well. He throws himself up into the air off the ledge, catches the fish neatly, curves for a dive, and plunges beautifully and cleanly into the water below! It is the cleverest and gracefullest thing to watch, and I really think every one ought to clap!

After that the keeper takes up his empty basket and goes quietly away. It must be splendid to be able to throw as well as he does—fish must be horribly slippery and difficult to get hold of—and I think many cricketers would be glad if they could catch as cleverly as the sea-lions!

Once a sea-lion ate more than his fair share of fish, and this is how it happened. The keeper had a truckful of fish, which was the supply for the whole of the Zoo, not just for the sea-lions only. He wheeled it into the sea-lions’ enclosure and then went to shut the gate.

Albert, a sea-lion, happened to see the fish on the truck, and thought it a glorious idea to eat fish without having to catch it first! So he galloped clumsily up, and when the keeper came back after a few moments he found his truck empty! How Albert could have swallowed all the number of fish on it is a mystery, but he did. The keeper said he looked just like a blown-up balloon!

Of course, the other fish-eating members of the Zoo could not go without their meal simply because Albert had been so greedy. So in a great hurry messengers had to be sent to buy more fish from all the fishmongers round—and, would you believe it, when the keeper took his place to feed the seals and other sea-lions, Albert barked for his share just as if he had never touched a fish in his life! But I don’t expect many fish were thrown in his direction that day!

Then there are the diving birds. They dive beneath the water after live fish, and very fascinating they are to watch. They streak through the water followed by a trail of shining bubbles. The penguin is the most graceful, for he uses his flipper-like wings in the same way that we use our arms for swimming. His feet are trailed out behind him. He is marvellous in the water. It is hard to believe that the shuffling, awkward bird we saw on land can be this graceful, curving bird, which seems almost to fly under water, so swift and sure are its movements.

You can, of course, feed many of the animals yourself. Bananas, oranges, apples, bread, nuts, you will find most animals willing to take some of these. The antelopes will come and plant their forefeet up on the railings and ask for bread or nuts. The hippopotamus will open his tremendous mouth and stand yawning in front of you, inviting you to “have a shot” and see how many things of all kinds you can get in. The elephant will wave his trunk near you and beg for an orange. The polar bears will sit up and say they will do their best to catch a bun, if only you will throw one; and if it is a nice big bun they will even roll over into the water for it, if you throw it there, and have a little game with it. And, of course, the monkeys will take anything you like to give them, even if they only mean to drop it on the floor! They like fruit very much, and if you want to be a favourite with them you have only to take bananas and oranges with you, and the monkeys will love you.

Some people feed animals with the wrong food, and that makes them ill. And sometimes the animals get too much given them, and over-eat themselves, especially on bank holidays. One of the queerest sights I saw was a schoolboy feeding an ostrich with oranges. It had taken three, and, of course, had swallowed them whole. They went down its throat slowly and, because they were rather big, they stuck out like balls all the way down its long neck. You could see them all going down one after the other, and the schoolboy was most excited. He got his camera out to take a photograph, but the ungrateful ostrich trotted away, so the poor schoolboy didn’t get his wonderful photograph of an “ostrich with oranges going down its neck” after all!