I’m sure by now you’ve all read/seen/heard about the tiger handler, Dave Styles, from Australia Zoo being ‘attacked’ and ‘mauled’ by one of the Sumatran tigers he has raised since it was a cub. If you haven’t, go Google, I’ll wait.
Have you got your pitch fork out yet? If not, why not? Come on, this is a wild animal attacking a human being. It should be killed. Immediately if not sooner. We should jump online and brandy the term wild animal like it’s actually insulting because a tiger isn’t a wild animal with animal instincts and it should totally know better. Oh. Wait.
Or, lets jump on and carry on about animals in captivity, with no actual knowledge about what we’re saying. Cry wolf about how they’re bored and how they should be out in the wild. You know, becoming extinct and all.
Rant and rave when you’ve actually not set foot inside a conservation driven zoo (in a very long time, or ever) and haven’t heard the why or the how these zoos are helping tigers. Also, for the trifecta, make sure you’re aware of ‘the palm oil issue’ but not changing any of your habits. Condemning those making efforts in conservation by having and breeding, learning from and educating the public about endangered animals while sitting at home and being part of the problem which is killing them and removing their natural habitat, which you so passionately demand they be returned to, makes you all kinds of awesome.
If you add that you’re pro culling the sharks, you get extra points, because people should absolutely be able to go into an animal’s own space and expect it to not act as if it is, in fact, an animal.
Oh, yes. Get out those pitch forks, yell and scream, raise them. Make some noise. And then? Fall on them. Because STUPID.
That tiger? Was playing. I don’t contemplate putting down my son when he bites me. We didn’t dispose of our cat when it bit through James’ hand. Animals, WILD animals, do not know their strength nor do they know just how fragile we humans are. Had he wanted to ‘maul’, ‘attack’, ‘kill’ or whatever else then Dave would not be alive. The other handlers would not have come out unharmed. Simple.
Having the tiger destroyed does what exactly? Kills a critically endangered, not to mention protected, animal and goes against everything Australia Zoo stands for.
Zoos are such an important part of conservation. They are educating people, learning from the animals, sharing their knowledge and igniting passion. But, you guys have heard all these things from me before. When I read the ‘oh those poor animals’ hoohaa I just can’t help but wonder if these people have been to a zoo recently. Maybe there are crappy zoos still out there and I haven’t been there, but the ones I have visited are awesome. The enclosures are big and comfortable, the animals are well cared for, engaged and healthy. Sure, a life in their natural surroundings would be so awesome, but wouldn’t you choose to live in a zoo where you’re catered to than be in an area where your home is being destroyed and your family is dying. I know what I would choose.
If having these tigers in a zoo right now leads to more understanding and change then it is nothing but good.
My heart absolutely goes out to the trainer and I pray he has a speedy and full recovery but I do not for one single second think he would condone the tiger being destroyed. He knows the risks of working with wild animals, he is trained and prepared and he is passionate. I spent some time with a man who raised a tiger for my birthday when I got to meet and feed Kinwah at Mogo Zoo – that little glimpse (I shared a little in a video compilation, you can see it below) showed me how much one man can love a big cat. The amazing bond there can be and people calling for the death of something you love and have raised must pull at your heart in a way I can’t even imagine.
All ready for her bestie’s disco party.
Joining Trish for Wordless Wednesday
I am so upset and angry right now. I know there are rules, guidelines and best practices surrounding blogging angry. I don’t care.
You see, Ellie is one third of a very close group of girls who do everything together. It has been this way practically since the very start of the year. They often have other little girls join with them and are friends with most of the girls in their class but these three have a special bond. I guess they’re a small group within a larger group, if that makes sense? This afternoon, two of those three girls were attending a ‘lovely party’ and one of those girls was not.
Obviously, that one girl was Ellie. Although, to be honest, I would be angry if it were either of the other girls, too.
A week or so ago, Ellie came home so excited, telling me this little girl had told her she was invited to her party but that the invites weren’t quite ready yet. A couple of days later, at dance, I saw the little girl and her mum with a little pile of invites, which – from a far – looked all pretty and handmade. When the mother saw me and Ellie’s class started coming out, the invites suddenly were hidden. I felt a twinge of worry but hoped I wasn’t right in my feeling that Ellie was, in fact, NOT to be invited.
The excitement still remained, soon this little girl would surely give out her invites. And, she had told Ellie she was invited but by all accounts the talk of the party had dried up.
Then, today, my fears were confirmed when Ellie’s bestie’s mum asked if she was off to the lovely party that afternoon. “No.” I said, “She wasn’t invited.” I found it quite difficult. As we returned to the car Ellie told me the little girl had come and told her today that she wasn’t invited and when I told her it was alright to feel a little upset about it she said she understood that everyone couldn’t be invited. She was so gracious even though she was also hurting.
I don’t expect her to be invited to all the parties that go on and I know there always has to be a line. We can’t all always invite everyone, but this just seems so harsh. Especially, after weeks and weeks of spending time near but not really WITH her friends because of dance recitals (including the birthday girl), where she ended up in a different class for reasons I am unsure of. She sadly watched as they practiced and spent time together. At one stage their was a ‘BOM BOM’ party held for the girls dancing in that to learn the dance better and to spend some time together. I heard the whispered planning of it and hoped like crazy Ellie wouldn’t know what she was missing out on.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be. The girl who was ‘hosting’ the BOM BOM party flat out told her that it was happening and that she couldn’t go. She came home and said to me “I was upset, but mum, I can’t cry at school.”
Today’s birthday girl and Ellie are quite good friends, I think. Or so it seemed. The thing I don’t understand is why they would ask her close friends and leave her out? Especially at such a young age. Especially when my girl had so passionately wanted to include everyone in her party, even the girl who had meanly taunted her about having not invited her in the beginning of the year (thankfully the two seem to now be good friends).
If Ellie wasn’t close to the birthday girl and the people she plays with, I would have no problem with her being excluded.
I really dislike when people try to put on a ‘I’m inclusive’ persona when they’re obviously really not.
And, something that makes me even angrier is that I was, again, party to the whispered talk of plans for this while in the dance hall. When Ellie was waiting on an invite I kept telling myself that surely, this mother wouldn’t have sat next to me and talk about such a lovely party that my daughter wouldn’t be part of? Surely?
Apparently, I was quite wrong about this mother and in the scheme of things, it’s just one party. Not a biggie. Maybe I am completely wrong to feel so upset. Maybe Ellie’s part of larger group doesn’t mean she should be included when the other girls are. Still. I am angry and saddened. And confused.
Anyway. I just needed to vent because while my girl handled it with hurt grace, I have been seething.
Have you ever had something like this happen?
It has been three years since Jasper made his dramatic entrance into the world. It may have been a traumatic pregnancy and birth but it was certainly all worth it for this little man.
It has been three very long years which have flown by. It’s funny how time is such a trickster.
This boy. He is light and love. Noise and mess.
Raising a boy is so different to raising girls. I remember being scared about how different it would be. I maybe should have been terrified.
Just recently, he has been randomly saying “I wuv you, mum.” Just when ever the mood takes him. When I reply with “I love YOU!” he puts on a gorgeously cheeky smile and says “I love you, too.” This can go on for ages but I don’t mind. Soon enough he won’t be so free with his love for his mumma.
He loves dressing up as a superhero or Scooby Doo and playing rough. But, he also loves to pop on a skirt from time to time, rocks pink sunglasses and is soft and sweet.
He is wholly himself. True to who he is at all times. It’s beautiful and I hope that allowing him to embrace all that he is, even if sometimes that means wearing a dress, will enable him to always, always just be himself.
He is always, always hungry. Always.
This boy adores his sisters. He also adores driving them crazy on occasion. He thinks it’s pretty funny to rile them up and get a reaction but he also loves to give them cuddles and kisses and to make sure they’re okay.
He looks like his dad and they have the same type of personality, which means they’re already butting heads but he’s always excited when daddy’s home.
Contrary to what people (many people) told me about him not talking much because he has two sisters to talk for him, the boy is a true chatter box. Instead of talking for him, the girls talk WITH him. Constantly. All three. Talking, talking, talking, talking.
He loves to take photos and have them taken of him. As soon as there’s a camera, he’s posing like a pro.
He loves dancing, singing and giraffes, cars, bikes and planes. He is a complex little person. Willful and stubborn.
And, now, he is three.
Pressies – Sully, Ken and animals.
He chose Ken himself
Why do they grow up SO fast?
Linking up with Jess for #ibot