(~7 minutes to read)
Headline: Egypt zoo accused of painting donkey to look like zebra
“Dad… can we go the Disney enclosure now?”
Ptolemy Uppchuk was bored and wanted to go see the brightly-coloured creatures that the Syewdoh Zoo had on show in the “Disney Enclosure”.
“Don’t you want to see the bears?” replied his father. “They’ve got polar, black and grizzly bears, and they’ve all got cubs right now!”
“Wicked!” exclaimed Ptolemy, using a phrase he and his grade four friends had heard on a 90s TV sitcom.
Father and son checked the zoo map together, then set out towards the bear enclosures. On their way, they passed a grassy area where five donkeys were standing with wicker panniers on their sides and sombrero-like hats on their heads, their ears sticking through holes made for the purpose. The donkeys looked bored, and frankly, slightly embarrassed.
Ptolemy regarded the animals with interest and the discerning eye of a ten-year-old zoologist.
“Dad,” he said at length. “It looks like someone’s been painting white stripes on that donkey.”
Uppchuk senior looked. “So it does,” he observed.
“Wait a minute!” he continued. “Look at the ears. They’re not donkeys’ ears! “
“Good spot!” said a youngish woman standing within earshot of the Uppchuks. “And ‘well done’ young man for spotting the white stripe!”
“If they’re not donkeys, then what are they?” asked Ptolemy.
“What do you think?” asked the woman, who from her uniform was most likely a zookeeper, and who from her nametag was called Kali.
“Well they’re not horses,” said Ptolemy. “Are they… z…”
“Go on,” said Kali encouragingly.
“Zebras?” said Ptolemy.
“Yes!” exclaimed Kali.
“Why would you paint zebras to look like donkeys?” asked Mr. U.
“Good question!” replied Kali a little over-enthusiastically. “We actually have too many zebras, so we provide a little variety for visitors by making some of the zebras look like donkeys. We know it’s slightly deceitful, so we run a competition for visitors to look for other ‘enhanced’ animals. The details are on the back of the map.”
Mr. U. tuned the map over and scanned the text.
“It says there are eleven ‘visually enhanced or disguised species’ in the zoo. And if we spot all eleven, we get to take home a zebra.”
“That’s right!” beamed Kali. “No home is complete without a pet zebra!”
“Is that right?” remarked Mr. U., drily.
“Can we win a zebra, Dad? Please? Please! Please!”
“What does he want now?” said Mrs. U., who with their eight-year-old daughter had just rejoined the menfolk.
“He wants to enter a competition to win a zebra,” said Mr. U. “We have to find eleven different animals that have been ‘visually enhanced or disguised’. Like those zebras over there.”
“They’re donkeys, Daddy,” said Cleopatra.
“No, they’re not, honey,” replied Mr. U. “See their ears? Zebra ears. And see that white stripe on the one nearest to us? That’s where the paint has worn off. They’re zebras.”
“What a silly zoo!” exclaimed Cleo. “I wondered why the elephants are all yellow!”
“And why do you think that is, sweetie?” interjected Kali.
“So they can hide in a bowl of custard?” enquired Ptolemy, remembering an old joke his grandpa had told him.
“Good answer,” said Kali, “but it’s so they look interesting. The zoo would be so dull if the elephants were all grey and the panthers were all black and the penguins and giant pandas were all black and white!”
“Why are all the elephants yellow then?” asked Ptolemy. “Why aren’t some of them green or blue?”
Kali’s walkie-talkie chose that moment to crackle into life. Kali answered it, and the Uppchuks moved on.
In the “Bearea”—the corner of the zoo dedicated to ursine creatures—Mr. & Mrs. U. gasped in shock and surprise as they noticed the amateur paint jobs on the residents. A grizzly bear had been poorly spray-painted white in an effort to make it resemble a polar bear, and several black bears had been dyed a dark, unnatural, gothic shade of black—made more obvious by the cinnamon-coloured roots that were showing.
Cleo read one of the interpretive signs.
“It says here that the zoo thinks it’s cruel to keep polar bears in a warm climate and that’s why they’ve painted grizzly bears white.”
“Makes sense,” said Mrs. U.
“And this one says that the black bears have been painted black so visitors don’t get confused,” said Ptolemy.
“Aren’t black bears black, Mummy?” asked Cleopatra.
“Not all of them, honey,” replied Mrs. U. “Some are grey, or cinnamon-coloured.”
“And white rhinos aren’t white,” said Ptolemy, proud to show his knowledge.
“You never know in this zoo,” observed Mr. U.
The Uppchuks toured the zoo, looking for the eleven “enhanced” animals and found seventeen of them. They included a neon pink chameleon (painted that colour so visitors could locate it easily) and a pair of leopards with square spots. The sign on their enclosure (or “Squarea” as it was called) said that the square spots were not painted on—they were a very rare species of “L7” leopards, but the Uppchuks weren’t fooled, and they added the leopards to the list.
In the Aquaria (named so it too rhymed with “Bearea” and “squarea”, although, by coincidence, there was more than one aquarium in the building) the Uppchuks discovered that every single fish was a herring “enhanced” to look like the species on the tank’s nametag. The angelfish all had wings and halos painted on; the angler fish had a fishing rod and tackle box in their tank, and each of the clownfish had a bright red nose painted on them and oversize shoes fixed to their pelvic fins. The interpretive sign pointed out that maintaining viable stocks of a large variety of fish species was costly, so the zoo had kept visitor costs down by successfully bidding for a job lot of herring on eBay.
It was time to go home. All they had to do was to collect their zebra. By coincidence, Kali was on duty at the booth where winning entries could be presented. She looked at the list, her eyes widening as she checked off the answers.
“Wow! guys,” she said, “you went above and beyond! Most people stop at eleven and are happy with one zebra, but with all seventeen, you get two!”
Mum and Dad groaned. But Ptolemy & Cleopatra could barely contain their excitement.
“May I name them, please?” they both asked at the same time.
“Why don’t you name one each? Suggested Mrs. U.
“You realize you’ll have to walk them every day, and pick up their poop,” said Mr. U.
“We don’t care!” said Ptolemy. “Do we, Cleo?”
“You might not,” replied Cleo. But there’s no way I’m going to touch poop!”
Just then, Kali appeared, leading two zebras. Cleo’s heart melted immediately.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll pick up their poop.”
Kali gave one zebra leash to each of the children. The animals seemed surprisingly docile considering that historically, most attempts to domesticate zebras fail.
“Hello, Stripey,” said Cleo to her animal.
“That’s a stupid name!” said Ptolemy. “Isn’t it, Crossing?” he added, looking at his zebra.
The Uppchuks and their newly-acquired menagerie made their way to the parking lot. Mr. U. was wondering how they’d get the four of them plus two zebras home in the VW Beetle when he noticed some white paint peeling off the rump of Cleo’s zebra.
“O-h n-o-o-o,” he groaned. “What have they given us?”
He stroked the nearest zebra. It whinnied gently and nosed the pocket containing his chewing gum. He moved to the side and rubbed some more of the paint off, revealing the boundary between an island of brown and an ocean of white. His suspicions mounting, he moved back to the front of the animal.
“Sorry to tell you this, kids,” said Mr. U., “but these aren’t zebras. They’re horses.”
“Well, given the name of the place, what did you expect?” said Mrs. U.
“What do you mean hon?” queried Mr. U.
“Syewdoh Zoo?”
She paused, waiting for realization to dawn.
It didn’t—darkness prevailed.
“Syewdoh… The ‘p’ is silent?” she said. “As in “Ptolemy?” she added.
Dawn dawned, and just like the ending of a cheesy feel-good American 60s movie, the entire family looked at each other and laughed, leaving the audience to wonder what the point of the story was and why the hell the zoo would give away ponies when they’ve got too many zebras.