The Sun Bear Inside

I remember the exact moment that my mind starting seeing it as a prison.

Going to the zoo used to be an amusing venture. My fascination with animals used to make the journey inside its looming metal gates a joyful one. The quick forays into what fauna graced the other side of the planet didn't used to yield visceral feelings of rage, shame and sympathy like they do now. The animals seemed more like hotel guests than prisoners, getting pampered as they lounged the days away.

But one day I visited the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle and saw it's tortured underbelly.

I walked up to the rail of the sun bear exhibit, hardly more than a classroom-sized space haphazardly strewn with sparse vegetation and fake rocks. The only thing separating the bear from the bystanders was a trough about 15 feet wide and 10 feet deep. My eyes scanned the poorly conceived habitat for the elusive occupant. Sun bears get their name from the large crescent shaped patches of golden fur than adorn their chests. I had never seen a bear in real life before, much less a sun bear, a creature who's very name inspires mythical might. My eyeballs kept scanning for any sign of movement. Still nothing. After a few minutes, my minuscule attention span grew weary from disappointment, and I started to shuffle away.

As I turned to leave, a flash of gold sparkled in the sunlight. My head whipped around and my starved eyes begged for another glance. Then I saw the brown blur move again. It was zipping back and forth between the two ends of its cage, pacing frantically. And at that moment, I became heavy with sadness. The bear's broken soul lay before me, crushed by containment and riddled with anxiety.

This bear was no second generation zoo baby who has no concept of freedom. You could smell the wild on it. But confine a majestic beast to a cage, and it is destined to deteriorate.

Stories like this one squirm beneath my fingernails. They are my army of sun bears nervously stomping around in the hopes that it will lead to their release. Sometimes it works. They are not bound to an eternity of confinement unlike their ferocious fleshy brethren.

We're trying to escape this prison together. We're trying to leap right over that trough and begin clobbering unsuspecting bystanders with clawing paws and salivating jaws. Maybe someday we can turn this jail cell into a jungle.