At first we only found one, then two, but --as it always does in the animal world --word spread. Little heads were popping out of hollows and up from behind rocks. They began climbing down tree trunks and skampered up from all directions. We sat there in bliss, handing out nuts as fast as we could. She was amazed, as most people are, at how gentle they are in taking a nut from your hands, and how they do NOT bite, though each one has their own style.
I was hoping that she'd earn the confidence of the one or two who put their little paws on your hand, but she did one better. One started to crawl up on her knee and kept coming back until he was quite comfortable sitting there. I snapped a few pix for her to have forever, as it's a really special experience to earn the trust of these charming but skittish creatures.
As we were leaving I said, "If I ever get blue, this is where I go and it completely disappears."
By 2:30 we were at the zoo where I'd arranged for private visits to feed the meerkats and the giraffes.
My tall handsome boyfriend the giraffe that I wrote about here even gave my sis a long nuzzle.
I have seen the roughest, toughest brutes reduced to a puddle over a puppy, and I often see the homeless buying a cheap bag of peanuts in the shell or a loaf of bread so they can go around the park feeding the birds, squirrels, the chicken (yes, there's a lone black hen in the park, a story I have yet to tell), the nutrias and the ducks and geese. I have seen that no matter what the creature -- be it a mole rat, a tarantula or a warthog, there are people who absolutely think they are the prettiest, most wonderful, loveable thing on the planet, and are devoted to them.
What is it about the power animals have to bring out our most innocent, open, loving selves, give our lives meaning in our care for them and banish any sadnesses from our hearts?