I Could Have Pet a Penguin (But Didn’t)

My parents worked (and still do) with many different businesses and corporations to better-improve the interaction between staff and faculty, employees and employers, workers and technology…That sort of stuff. That was how they became aquatinted with an individual who worked at the zoo local to our state.

As an act of kindness, this individual allowed us the opportunity to enter the penguin enclosure one day. Of course, I was probably six or seven at the time, so I had no idea what was going on when some random man walked up to my family and led us through a series of backrooms near the enclosure.

I followed the rest of my family ignorantly and curiously, thinking it quite neat that I was finally seeing the undecorated concrete hallways behind the doors with the “EMPLOYEES ONLY” signs on them. I felt like I was some sort of VIP, that I got to go back through those musty and dirty hallways. We passed through a series of doorways, and, at two points, the loose plastic drapes that hang from the ceiling to keep the warm air of the outside hallways from seeping into the enclosure. I was already having the time of my life back there, so, needless to say, I was surprised when the man led us through another door and there were penguins inside!

Me and my family piled into the enclosure (which was rather interesting, and while the enclosure was quite big, much of it was nothing but cold water). In that moment, as I stood on the floor of the enclosure that was designed to look like ice, I was overcome with a slight sense of terror at being so close to at least a dozen or more penguins.

The penguins, of course, were not expecting so many “invaders,” and began to waddle contently away. As the man who had led us in there began trying to usher some of the penguins toward us, I found greater interest at looking out through the glass at the people on the outside of the enclosure. Seeing all those people clustered around the glass, looking inside at us, made me feel all the more important.

My air of superiority faded, however, when the man finally managed to get behind one of the penguins and by doing so ushered it slightly in our direction. Well, now I was beginning to panic. I can recall grabbing my mother’s legs for protection (I know that penguins are fairly small, but back then, I was no taller than them, really).

What didn’t help my nervousness was the man explaining that the penguin closest to us, and another one a few feet away from it, were recent “mates.” The female, he said, grew mildly hostile when the zookeepers got too close to the male. Unfortunately for us, the male was actually quite content with humans, and when he began to waddle toward the man, the female nipped at him with her beak. So there went any chance of me going near those things.

While I was hugging my mother’s legs in fear, my younger brother clumsily walked up to the male penguin and poked it gently in the side. The female nipped at him, and he retreated to our parents as well (but at least he was brave enough, or ignorant enough, to touch it. I say this because all creatures seemed dangerous to us as little kids).

Before we left the enclosure, my parents tried to convince me to pet a penguin, at least once. They said that I would regret it if I did not, but I was firmly content on not getting near those things - I did not need to lose any fingers.

So here I am today, still wishing that I had pet that penguin. I’ve casually walked within only a few dozen meters of black-bears in the wilderness, will happily pick up a snake or jellyfish, and have been less than a foot away from an alligator (I nearly fell into the water next to it, as well. That would have been unfortunate). Yet, for some reason, I simply was not able to brave myself up against a penguin…It’s probably a good thing that that’s one of my greatest regrets from childhood.