Sunday, 05 May 2002 | Exotic animal show

There were folding tables holding stacks of disposable food containers, holding blinking lizards and coiled snakes and furry tarantulas. Fish tanks, holding brightly colored chameleons and moist, leaf-shaped frogs and startled-looking geckos. Cages, holding young head-butting goats and Bengal cats and a desert fox with crazy large ears. Five dollars if you want to get your picture taken by the 14-foot-long python. Two dollars to get your picture taken on the camel. Forty-five dollars to take home an exotic creature that has very specific requirements for survival.

The arena was crowded, bright, and had a large echo. A woman stood in front of a display with an owl perched on her shoulder, answering questions and declining offers to be relieved of the bird. I heard a vendor say, "You know you want one," gesturing toward a tower of snakes in front of him. A man shook his head and replied, "I'm gonna git somethin—I don't know what—but I'm gonna git somethin."

People poked and squealed and released their flash bulbs, and the animals responded by pawing at the glass, by cowering in a corner, by closing their eyes and ignoring the steady commotion. Another vendor spoke directly to me. "I have a camera like that. 'Cept mine's an N90. I can't figure out how to work it. Actually I've got two N90s, and an 8008, and I can't work any of them. I've read all the manuals, but I still can't figure them out."

I spent about two hours there, weaving between cages and tanks, taking pictures, hearing myself say "hello," followed by "poor thing." I had mixed feelings, seeing the fascinating amount of life, seeing it kept in small plastic food containers. I felt a little better about the event and the money that I'd contributed to it when I stepped outside and listened to two women with a microphone and a train of animals explain how some animals do not make good pets. And it was worth it to pay a dollar to climb in a pen with a pig named Jasmine and feed her a grape, a baby carrot, and an animal cracker in the shape of a buffalo. I found out first-hand that when her lower back is scratched, she falls on her side with pleasure, exposing her belly for the same treatment. (See the photos.)