The cross cranes (Singapore)

My visit home in 1993 was after a 14-year gap.

    My eldest sister was keen to show me how Singapore had changed.  She had two young daughters at the time, aged six and four, so she thought a visit to the Singapore zoo (official name: Mandai Wildlife Reserve) would be perfect for a day out to keep me and her little girls entertained.

 

    In response to my protests (that I didn’t like the idea of gawping at animals penned up), she said Mandai zoo is a different concept, and that I’d find it an interesting experience.

 

     Sure enough, it was different, in a way, from my past experiences of zoos: Johor Baru Zoo (in Malaysia across the border) when I was about ten, and London Zoo in 1977.   

    Right next to the ticket window, even before you enter the zoo, was a fried chicken kiosk. Immediately inside the main entrance was a local-fare canteen.  Singaporeans get their priorities right: food first before the long march around the grounds.  (In case the items on offer in the canteen didn’t quite fill the tummy, there were also machines positioned among the trees in the grounds, dispensing snacks in the form of chocolate bars, sweets, crisps.)  

    Belly filled, one moved on to an animal performance area, with a stage section and an amphitheatre, to catch the acts during the scheduled slots (only twice daily, according to their website).  On the day we were there, the stars were a baby elephant and a seal.

    The zoo is beside a reservoir, on a wooded piece of land.  The animal sections are spread out around this wood, so the visitor is taking a walk through the wood, stopping at animal sections dotted about.  For a tropical island 1˚N with average humidity levels around 80%, it is, indeed, a pleasant way to spend one’s day — among the trees and beside the water.  So, she was right: it was an interesting experience. 

    The most interesting part from that day’s visit was when we were walking from one section to another, and my sister suddenly stopped beside the reservoir.  There was nothing else around, so I asked her why we’d stopped.  Her answer, “Just wait and see.”

 

    It was around noon.  We stood there under the trees.  First, one crane flew across the reservoir to where we were, and landed a few feet away.  Then, another one.  Next, a couple more.  A small group after that.  Soon, we were in the company of about one or two dozen cranes, standing around. 

    The cranes then started getting cross, pacing up and down, stamping the ground, back and forth, back and forth.

 

    Eventually, a milk float* loomed up.  The cranes rushed up to it, and the driver was besieged before he’d even put one foot on the ground.   

    He was the feeder, and he was late with their lunch.   

    Haha.  Never seen cranes in a fit of temper before.

 

 (Singapore, 1993) 

 * milk float:  (British) An open-sided van, typically powered by electricity, that is used for delivering milk to houses.