THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, January 23, 1995 TAG: 9501230067
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Guy Friddell
LENGTH: Medium: 70 lines
Word last week that the Virginia Zoological Park plans an African exhibit as its next step in a master plan prompts me to cast a vote that it seek one or more lions as the first residents of the new habitat.
When time comes to decide, the public should vote on it. I aim to find some way to stuff the ballot box in favor of His Majesty.
Weeks ago, mentioning the prospect of an African veldt materializing, a mirage off Norfolk's Granby Street, a zoo official said the likelihood was that a giraffe would be the first attraction.
To be joined by a zebra, he said.
``Oh, pshaw!'' I told him. ``You can put a zebra in there any old time. Just take a white horse and paint black stripes on it. And there you go.
``Or, alternatively, find a black horse and paint it with white stripes. Either way. No difficulty.
``That's what P.T. Barnum, the father of zoos, would do.''
Most accommodating beast, the zebra.
Children, my friend said, love the giraffe and ask all sorts of questions about it.
It's their favorite, he insisted.
For a fleeting second, I felt like the beloved W.C. Fields who distrusted all children as brats who stole scenes from him.
``Altogether too much attention is paid to children on matters they know little or nothing about,'' I said.
But I had to admit that the knobby-headed giraffe walking about, as if on stilts, appears to be part of the landscape itself, a towering tree on the move.
There's dignity and grace in its stately and somewhat awkward gait.
Its tender gaze, with soft velvet eyes, is downright motherly.
In its handsome coat with whomp-me-jawed tan splotches, outlined in yellowish mortar-like borders, the giraffe seems to be draped with a tiled kitchen floor.
My favorite story about the giraffe concerns the farmer who, seeing one, studied it at length and, turning away, said: ``I don't believe it.''
My feeling is you glance at it, think ``Aha, a giraffe!'' - and then depart, looking for an elephant which bears regarding forever.
Of all animals, including man, the elephant intrigues me most, wisdom incarnate on foot.
With two elephants, Mona and Lisa, our zoo already is superior.
Next to elephants in my book are the big cats, lions and tigers.
Again, the Norfolk zoo is ahead of the game with two tigresses, a pair of sinuous sisters, who hold the eye.
A lion would be a magnificent coup for the Virginia zoo.
``But children . . . '' he began.
``CLAPTRAP! Do you see children flocking to the movies to see a film about the Giraffe King?''
``But children . . .'' he persisted.
``And have you ever seen a pair of giraffes flanking the steps of the town library? NO! You see LIONS in stone!''
``But . . .'' he tried.
``Lions are the ultimate male chauvinists, always having their way,'' I told him. ``They are increasingly rare. And that's where they rightly belong.
``In a zoo.''
``But . . .'' he said.
``And that's an end to it!'' I said. ILLUSTRATION: [Illustrations by] JANET SHAUGNESSY/Staff
by CNB