August 21st 2009 (part ii)

The entire time we spent at the 'Million Years Stone Park' you have to remember that I was constantly torn between a primitive and childlike fascination with the creatures we saw. Not so much as they were new and unknown, more because of the proximity with which we were allowed to interact, and the safety precautions, or lack-thereof, that guarded my wandering mind from wondering if I might just reach and out and capture a quick touch of the wild brutes. My fascination compelled me to pure ecstasy, my compassion, however, left a feeling of deep regret that I was helping to promote their captivity. The tiger cages were literally just that; not a giant guard rail, in front of a 30-ft. high steel cage, in front of a 12ft. moat followed by 2inch thick glass. Just steel posts and metal mesh. Excuse me, thin metal mesh. They looked more like a giant bird-cages rather than holding pins for 350-pound ravenous carnivores. To say you could reach in and touch one would not give justice to the limited security provision provided by the establishment. I could have jumped in and tried to ride one. Maybe we give idiots and luny-birds too much protection in the U.S... they certainly leave a great amount of personal accountability in Thailand. I couldn’t help but compare all the great cats to my own little terror waiting half way around the world. Bored and lonely at our empty house. Maybe I’ll get chided for talking too much about my damn cat, but every tiger I looked at reminded me of rebel. Am I lame or what? They didn’t have the same playfulness in their eyes though, that big-eyed stare that lets you know they mean trouble by means of rowdy play. I came to find out it was because these great cats were heavily sedated, heavily sedated and tightly chained. Pacing back and forth endlessly, staring off into the distance with that serial-killer icy glare. The tail didn’t twitch around, the ears weren’t perked up at attention. I had expected Shere Khan, a magical monster born of my youngest memories. What I saw was another thing that would never make it back in the states. A blatant disregard and mistreatment of some of natures most glorious animals. PETA would have shit their pants. All my sadness and regret came from the tigers and the bears. You could see the sadness in their eyes; see the torn and downtrodden expression on their constantly pacing shoulders. I felt bad seeing the repression. I had little emotional attachment, however, save intense fear, for the large leathery crocodiles that seemed completely devoid of all emotions. Their eyes gave no expression, they gave me the same gut feeling as a large spider, or snake...robots hell-bent on biting you in the most uncomfortable ways imaginable. All this in mind, and our feeding frenzy from moments earlier as a precursor, we headed for our next stop. The crocodile show...