Do you guys remember the show Fear Factor? You know, where they would base jump while eating kittens? The one where the host's neck was thicker than a tree trunk and whose mom probably drank when she was pregnant?
Yeah, that show can’t hold a candle to what they do at the Australian Reptile Park.
Maybe the lab technicians there wouldn't scarf down raw goat brain or bathe themselves in cockroaches, but I'm pretty sure none of the contestants on the show would submit themselves to stealing the venom from arguably the most poisonous spider in the world. Which is exactly what goes down at this park — milking funnel-web spiders.
Before you imagine that these spiders resembled engorged cows, which is the same picture I had, know that the term 'milking' is used lightly here. In fact, a more proper term would be, 'situate yourself on the other side of tourist-protecting glass, open top of funnel-web home, nudge cold-blooded (literally!) killer a couple times, and then vacuum drops of venom that has eliminated 13 people, including seven children, in the last 100 years. Oh, and make sure to wear a headset so you can tell all the ogling, uneducated tourists what exactly you're doing.' (If people think driving while talking on a cell phone is dangerous, please don't tell them this story.)
Yes, it was thrilling. No, the spider didn't leap at the guy's jugular and then loose his friends on us. But just knowing that this spider could was more than enough to get my blood pumping.
Thus peaked the level of danger during my weekend of wildlife, although the peak of peril didn’t mean the rest was a waste.
Zoological disappointments/wonders
As the funnel-web adventure happened on Sunday, let’s go back a day. I should have known I was in for an ominous day when, upon walking to the Circular Quay, I spotted my first Captain Cook impersonator, decked from tri-cornered hat to cobbled shoes. Needless to say, this was the diehard mascot of Captain Cook Cruises, which Wisconsin Steve and California Elisabeth soon boarded for Taronga Zoo.
Situated 20 minutes away, on the north side of the harbor, the Zoo is one of the most touristy things you can do in Sydney, as opposed to simply see — Opera House, Harbor Bridge, etc. In fact, it’s so highly-regarded that the people behind the Lonely Planet series claim it’s one of the places you should visit if your stay in Sydney is shorter than Usain Bolt’s 100m run. Tiered on a massive, water-side hill, the zoo was supposed to be a gem of the city.
But after our trip, I now think ‘gem’ is Aussie slang for ‘crap.’
The visit began forebodingly as, upon landing, we were informed by our stout hostess that the sky-rail was under repair. I don’t think it had dropped anyone into the lion pits or anything — although the less tourists, the better, I’m sure — but the inconvenience meant that instead of cruising over the bears and sea lions we would instead have to walk up the steep face.
So walk we did. Past the semi-vacated aviary, past the absent chimpanzees, past the dried up seal pools, and past the gut-wrenching sight of the spider monkey huddled in the back of the cage, clinging to one another for warmth. (I swear, the primates in Sydney don’t know how to handle a little cold!)
With our confusion soon turning toward exasperation, we soon turned an uphill corner and nearly ran into a fence littered with pictures of animals saying ‘Our new home is under construction!’ Great. Not only are the animals speaking Australian, but they’re not even here to tell us the news themselves.
And it turned out that those pictures were the closest we would come to the gorillas, too. Upon walking to their cage, a sign rudely greeted us with ‘Gorilla husbandry in process, exhibit closed.’ Do I even need to make a joke here?
Anyway, the zoo wasn’t a complete loss. A free bird show managed to take flight through the bluster, with Dixie the Whistling Kite, a Barking Owl, a Barn Owl, and a Wedge-Tailed Eagle somehow navigating toward the airborne anchovies with impeccable accuracy. The nocturnal animal exhibit, featuring the long-eared Bilby and gecko-mice, whose ability to walk on glass gave me a monster for the next great horror movie. The Green Iguanas had a conversation via head-shaking — apparently they were in disagreement — and the active dingoes made me long for the days when my dogs were in shape.
And it turned out the sky-rail repairs were a blessing in disguise. Not only did the breathtaking views of the city remain the same (and will be shared once I find some suitable internet), but I found myself walking off…well, I would say lunch, but the zoo took my lunch money.
The day was not yet over, however. With the arrival of the Captain Cook Cruise, we were whisked off around the harbor, heading east toward the mouth and alongside Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman’s former penthouse. But we soon took a detour into Elizabeth Bay, not to admire the industrial area but to catch a glimpse of an animal not housed in the zoo — dolphins! Since the closest I’ve come to a dolphin is Joey Harrington (can’t believe I just made that joke), I was pretty excited when the blowholes surfaced and bodies flew through the air. We followed the flock for about five minutes, allowing everyone a glimpse of the rare visitors, and allowing me to tell my kids I saw fins in Sydney Harbor.
After hitting the mouth of the Harbor — and avoiding the old-man nude beaches when possible — we encountered the dolphins once again, this time getting close enough to see them actually swimming underwater.
And after the hiding Tasmanian Devils and lethargic zebras, it was nice to know that my money was well-spent.
What an oat-fiend
Whew, so now, back to Sunday (hopefully the pictures I’ll put up will be more entertaining than this mass of words). As soon as the fangs of the funnel-web were dried up, I knew that money was well-spent. Afterward, Wisconsin Steve and I debated riding the Galapagos Turtles, cooed at the sleeping Tassie Devils, and laughed at the waddling Common Wombat. Continuing on, we fed kangaroos for the second time, although this time around we saw just how desperate the marsupials were for a fix (in addition to a joey emerging from it’s mother’s pouch, but that was just too gross to detail here). After throwing some oats at the lounging alpha male, a smaller ’roo came hopping over.
But it didn’t stop when it reached the fence. Nor did it remain still when it reached my feet.
Instead, it stood up on its hind legs, stared me straight in the face, and said, ‘You’re next.’
Ok, no, it didn’t say that, but I gave it some oats before it could say anything. And in a hilarious moment of drug-like imagery, the kangaroos eyes drooped, its body sagged, and its mouth began to munch sloooowly on its addiction.
Who knew oats were the LSD of marsupials?
Fruit of the gods
From there, Wisconsin Steve and I boarded the bus for our final destination: Hunter Valley, home of some of Australia’s most well-known wineries.
Yes, Steve and I were on a wine-tasting tour. And I’d be lying if I said that I had enough breakfast in my stomach to handle it.
Of the fours wineries we visited (Savannah Estate, Tulloch’s, Lindemann’s, and Drayton’s), here’s what I learned: I’m neither a red wine nor a chardonnay guy, the bubbles of sparkling wine are meant to cut through the tannin, and port wine, which is infused with bourbon spirits halfway through the distillation process, is quite delicious.
Oh, and the alcohol sold at wineries is far cheaper than anything around campus. Economics 101 in a bottle, I suppose.
Needless to say, I’m still recovering — sleeping for 11 hours never felt so good. (But then again, neither did waking up at 6 a.m. on a Sunday.)
By the way, more photos here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2003163&l=96c3e&id=1454130108
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