Spring of 2008

It was an unusually warm, cloud free spring day here in the Seattle area. Being Saturday, Rich and I were undecided about what to do with our time. There was always golf, but on a day like this, it was unlikely that we would be able to get a good tee time. Or even worse, get teamed up with some fuddy duddies.

Plan B – the Woodland Park Zoo. We set off for our adventure. I was as excited as a child. Our first really sunny day, and I love looking the latest improvements that the zoo had been making to all of the environments.

As usual, our adventure didn’t disappoint. We had stepped into magic land. Our first crazy experience was in coming to within a couple of feet of a giraffe that was stopping to grab some leaves from the tree directly above our heads. It was like a scene out of Jurassic Park.

It was pure chance that this opportunity had come along. We were walking along a path and then noticed that a zookeeper was putting a rope a few feet ahead of us. “Get on the other side of the trail people!” It was a man from the other side of the rope.

Was he talking to us? Rich and I looked at each other, puzzled. Just at that time the zookeeper motioned for us to back up. She then put up a rope, creating about a ten foot gap between us and the mouthy man. Then we heard the clicking noise that came from the zookeeper as she made her way to the giraffe enclosure. It was a signal – dinner time.

We watched as one giraffe sauntered by, toward the trainer. There were ‘ooh’s and ahh’s’ from those lucky enough to be close. That’s when we heard the cracking and crunching noise from above.

Looking up at the same time toward the sound, we were awestruck. About six feet above our heads was a giraffe looking down at us. He was unconcerned with us but really interested in the leaves on the tree branch right above us. We were insignificant, but the leaves were delicious, or at least that’s how I felt. We watched as it decided to follow the clicking sounds into its enclosure where I’m sure it knew tasty treat awaited.

As if that wasn’t enough.

After leaving the giraffe world we visited a few more places, making our way to the Monkey exhibits. They were a wonderland compared to the first time I saw them – nothing more than huge cages.

As we approached the Siamang exhibit I noticed a monkey totally watching me. One of his eyes was glazed over so I figured that maybe he was just trying to focus. I walked up to one of the glass walls which enclosed his world. When I did he moved toward me.

“Oh, look, how cute! He’s coming right to us.” I told Rich as I moved closer to the glass.

I was able to walk right up to the glass, so I did. As I did, so did the monkey. To my amazement he put his hand up to the glass. Without a thought, I did the same. We connected through the glass. Hand to hand. He pressed his body up against the glass, and again I did the same. I couldn’t help myself.

“That’s insane!” Rich exclaimed. “Move to another spot and see if he follows you!”

I did. And he followed. Each time, trying to contact me. This went on and on. Even when others came to the exhibit he stayed with me.

As a test I moved away when a group came up. Immediately, the monkey went high into a tree so he could see me over the heads of the group.

I didn’t know what to make of it. I decided to push my way up through the group and see if the monkey could spot me. He did. Amongst the gasps and murmurs he came up to the glass where I was and repeated the routine - hand on the glass, then a body press against the glass. A young boy thought he would try it but the monkey ignored him. I was secretly pleased.

I felt like Rich was getting bored so we left to visit the rest of the zoo. It all seemed so blasé after the monkey encounter.

The monkey exhibit was on the way back to the car so I talked Rich into stopping by just one last time. And yes, the same strange phenomena occurred. Only this time there was a grey haired lady sitting there casually watching the monkeys.

As I stepped back, telling Rich how weird this whole thing was, the grey haired lady came forward.

“His name is Simon, You look like the hander he had for years.” She was looking at me.

“Wow, really? He’s been doing this every time I come up to the exhibit.” I answered.

“I don’t doubt it. You are a dead ringer for her. He’s blind in one eye – glaucoma. We had an eye surgeon donate his services, but it didn’t work.” She eyed Simon.

I went one last time to the glass to say my goodbyes. This time I got emotional about it.

I’m upset now that I didn’t ask more about Simon’s handler. But I did go online and read about his surgery. It’s true, his name is Simon. I plan on going back someday to see if he is still there, and more importantly, if we share that same bond.