I took my nieces and nephew to the zoo in a couple weeks ago. Riley, 2-years old, sat quietly in her push chair: taking it all in. She didn't seem fazed by the creatures - most of them new to her. The lions had barely elicited a response, the elephant (big), bison (stinky), snake (sssss), crocodile (yukky). Then we got to the tigers. The male was lying along the wall of his enclosure. His mate under some trees. It was a hot, hot day - especially for a Siberian. And the two cats had only slivers of shade.
We sat a ledge with thick plate glass between us and the enclosure and the male was to our left. Just visible in the dappled light. Riley had crept onto my lap and was eyeing the animal out. Every now and then she would look at me and whisper "Tiger" and point. Then he stood up. Enormous: head the size of two bedpillows. He turned to face us and I felt a shock of fear run through Riley's tiny body. She leapt out of my arms and into her push chair: "we go, Suzie, we go".
Maya Angelou once said "when someone shows themselves to you for the first time - believe them". Those words have been running through my head since we walked away from the tiger. Riley's primal instincts are still well and truly intact. She knew what she was looking at. She knew what it was capable of. She knew she needed to get away.
I've been wondering how we lose that intuition, how we fail to recognize when something is bigger, better adapted for survival, more dangerous than we are. Or, perhaps rather than fail, do we actively choose to ignore our gut and, instead, compromise?
We feed the beast, placate it, entitle it, give it dominion. And then when it gets beyond handling, we try to limit it. To civilise it. Only to be shocked and overwhelmed by the scale of it's anger.
It's said "NO" is the most powerful word in any language. I wonder if we should have used it more. Or did we fold, weary of repetition. I need someone to tell me: was this unhealthy prospering possible because good men looked the other way?**
** apologies to Edmund Burke
