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Rated: E · Other · Animal · #1051061
A continuation of the gorilla stories.
To continue with the gorilla who was at the glass with me -

One day I came in looking for her and could not find her. After looking in all of her favorite places and any where else I could think of, I went over to her favorite place and sat down on the benches to wait. Sooner or later she would come up and lounge behind her favorite rock. Well, I waited. The day was very calm - no breeze to speak of.

There was a big hibiscus bush in the middle of that area. All of a sudden it started moving a little more aggresively than from a breeze. When I called her name she stuck her head out in the middle of the bush surrounded by red hibiscus. I wished for a camera.

She also loved to climb way up in the rocks when it was cold. If you did not know what you were looking for you would miss her. I showed many a guest and most of them still could not see her until she moved. That is the way I first noticed her up there. She blended so well with the rocks and really all you could see was part of an arm unless she raised her head when I called her. That did not always happen.

The most puzzling display I got from her was one day she was on the point. We were both just hanging out on either side of the moat. All of a sudden she charged and I was afraid she was going into the moat. She stopped just short. I still don't know what caused that.

One thing she loved was when I brought a khaki bag with me. She would meet me at the glass for that. She wanted me to take everything out of the bag so she could see what was there. If she could see something that I had not taken out she would hit the glass.

If there was a storm coming while I was in the park, I would head for the gorilla exhibit. There she would be right by the glass. Everytime there was a thunder clap she would run to the other end of the glass. I felt so sorry for her. All I could do was be close.

There is more to even her part of the story. I will share it soon.
© Copyright 2005 Mary Ann Chidlow (merian at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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