My journey through zoos - from exhibit to individual souls
As a child, zoos held a special magic for me. Back then, nestled within sprawling parks where trees whispered stories to the breeze, the zoo was just a small corner of a much larger world. It was my favorite place—a space where animals and nature intertwined, sparking my young imagination and filling my heart with wonder.
But not all memories are joyful. I vividly recall one visit that shattered my innocence. A black bear, its magnificent power reduced to a chain, was forced to perform tricks for a crowd. The sight broke me. I screamed at my parents, begged them to help, but the world seemed unmovable to a child’s pleas. My heart cracked open that day, and though nothing changed in that moment, perhaps a seed was planted—a seed of compassion and determination that would grow quietly, waiting for its time.
Animals have always claimed a vast part of my heart. Even as a child, I dreamed of a world where their beauty wasn’t confined, their freedom wasn’t a spectacle.
Decades later, I found myself briefly visiting the world-famous San Diego Zoo. Unlike the bare cages of my childhood in China, this zoo seemed to have evolved—habitats replaced steel bars, and there was a semblance of care. It filled me with hope. A small dream began to take root: to visit the world’s best zoos, to see if we had truly learned to honor the lives of these beings.
Just days ago, after two months of traveling along the West Coast in our van, I arrived in San Diego again. This time, I wanted more than a fleeting glance. I wanted to truly feel the presence of the animals, to look into their eyes and sense their stories. With excitement and anticipation, I decided to visit every day, immersing myself in their world.
But as we grow, the lens through which we see the world changes. Things are always more complicated than they seemed in childhood. The San Diego Zoo, while organized and thoughtfully designed, began to stir conflicting emotions in me. Its habitats are intricate, its paths beautifully arranged, but the purpose behind it all feels skewed—designed more for the entertainment of humans than for the wellbeing of the animals.
Questions That Stir the Soul
I couldn’t help but wonder:
Can animals truly be happy in captivity?
Is it necessary to house and breed animals that are neither endangered nor local?
Can we learn about these magnificent beings without taking away their freedom? With the tools of our age—touching documentaries, virtual reality, AI—surely, we can?
How much stress do they endure, surrounded by our pointing fingers, our excitement, our uninvited interactions?
For endangered species, why not restore their natural habitats instead of breeding them in captivity, where their offspring are disconnected from the wild they were meant to roam?
When I saw a big cat pacing in a too-small enclosure, the ache returned. I leaned in, sent him light, and silently thanked it—for compromising his freedom so that we might learn, for enduring captivity to awaken us.
Toward a Conscious Future
One day, I believe, we will awaken. We will see that zoos, as we know them, are no longer necessary. Hope that we will honor their lives, not as exhibits, but as beings with their own dreams, their own right to freedom.
The journey is long, but the seed planted in my heart as a child continues to grow. And one day, I know it will bloom.
Do you think Zoo has a place in the morden world? Comment below :)
