Look at me, such a good little blogger! I realized today, at the Jackson Zoo with the in-laws, that I have a pretty good Connor story that has yet to be shared.
One thing Harbin, China is known for is the tiger park on its outskirts. Unlike a zoo, the tigers aren't caged -- you are. You sit in this rickety van with something akin to chicken wire for walls and ride through different areas of the park, tigers meandering along beside you, tails twitching, eyes glowing. You can purchase, if you choose, anything from a piece of meat to be held on prongs through the chicken-wire-walls, to a live cow to be unloaded from a van as you watch. The most popular items are the chickens and ducks, however, and the tigers rush upon the vans at the first tell-tale squawk.
We've visited the tiger park three times. The first time, we were newbies to Harbin and wanted to see it for ourselves. Someone on our van purchased a couple of chickens, so we got very up close and personal with the tigers. They stood on their hind legs, the claws on their front paws reaching inside the van, eyes glued to the little mail flap our driver shoved the protesting chicken through. The second time, there were new teachers on campus we went with. Justin held up some meat for the tigers (two of them got into a fight, it was awesome) and someone else bought ducks. The duck procedure is somewhat interesting. A man in a Jeep with some bars covering the windows pulls up next to a lake on the grounds. The tigers swarm around him, eager for what they know is coming. He cracks open the door, tosses a couple of firecrackers outside, steps out into the smoke, and throws the ducks (wings clipped, of course) into the air. They splash into the lake, whereupon the tigers make a ruckus trying to get them. Everyone in the van was cheering for the ducks, who always managed to dive deep just in time...until they got in the shallow water.
Anyway. Those were our first two trips to the tiger park. The third was this past semester. Some friends came to visit, and we took Connor for his second trip to see the tigers.
It was largely uneventful. Nobody purchased chickens, ducks, or meat. We got to see the tigers up close, but it was, over all, a dud. Except for one thing.
I'm to blame, really. When we got into the van, I slid down the wooden bench to the very back, to make room for the other people getting on. We got separated from the rest of our group, who were sitting close to the front. So Justin, Connor, and I clung to the bench seat in the back corner as we bounced down the rutted dirt road to the entrance gate.
In the first area of the park, the van stopped to allow us time to view the tigers. One of which, a large male, wandered around to the back of the van. He sniffed the back tire, then, very deliberately, graced us with a view of his backside and sprayed us. Full in the face.
Yessiree.
Connor thought it was a great joke. I did not.
We get into the second area of the park. Here comes another male tiger. He sniffs our area of the van. In what I can only call a protective-mother-instinct moment, I threw my body over Connor's, shoving his face into my armpit, and the spray from this tiger coated my back.
Onto the third area. Our friends up front are bored, not being as blessed as we were. Justin had gotten sprayed also, and Connor kept chiming, "He sprayed us! He sprayed us!" in a very excited voice. A third tiger, I kid you not, approached us. We ducked our heads just in time.
Now coated, head to foot, in the very musky scent of tiger urine, we exited the van. I had two thoughts:
One -- a shower. NOW.
Two -- heaven help the next people to ride in the back of that van. It's a vicious cycle.
So today, while standing at the tiger exhibit, a tiger paced back and forth in front of us. Connor squealed, threw his dimpled hands into the air, and shouted, "He's gonna spray us, he's gonna spray us!" That is what my son knows about tigers.
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