My first memory of a zoo was in the late 1950, as a child of seven.
This was the tiny Staten Island zoo, all of eight acres, and it had alligators, otters, bats and monkeys, along with a nationally recognized collection of rattlesnakes.
I was adequately scared by the rattlesnakes and the alligators but the one creature which moved me the most, was a full grown tiger pacing back and forth in its remarkably small cage.
That huge animal trapped in its little cell was one of the key moments in my path toward loving wild nature, the wilder the better. I would stare into that tigerâs eyes and try to communicate my sympathy and horror at its plight and though I never remember crying, I was always deeply saddened during each encounter.