Tag: animals

in pictures: the rooster cogburn ostrich ranch

December 21, 2012 |

Some things are really weird. For example: Tucson drivers’ propensity to forget how four-way stops work when a bicyclist shows up at the intersection; Skrillex; and the fact that the NRA claims that keeping guns out of schools makes schools more, not less, dangerous places for kids. Obviously this list could go on forever, but let’s skip ahead to #38 on the List of Really Weird Things: the Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Ranch in Picacho, AZ. Holly and I went there as part of our “Discover Tucson” series (which seems to be developing a theme of discover-things-PETA-would-hate-about-Tucson. Sorry, PETA!). I’ll let the pictures (below) do most of the talking, but first I’ll explain that what I found weirdest and most unsettling about my trip to the ranch. Basically, it was unpleasant to partake in a system that commodifies human-animal relations in a completely asymmetrical relationship: the animals, instead of being left to themselves, spend their days begging from humans. Of course, it’s not a huge deal on the scale of messed-up-stuff-we-do-to-animals—at all. But is a visit to the Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Ranch my idea of fun? Nope. The donkeys were all right, though…

“Bonding” with the donkeys:

But seriously: “Little Donkeytown USA”? That’s so corny. Or I’m just a snob. Or some combination of the two.

One of the donkeys is a smiling donkey, so we had to Instagram about it.

The deer were pretty but bizarre to interact with. They are obviously wild animals. (You wouldn’t be able to tell from this adorable picture, though…)

“Goat Penthouse” = gigantic question mark. (It has to do with how certain species/breeds of goat like being high up, which I get, but… Still… What?)

Finally, the ostriches. Alien heads:

Dinosaur feet:

Supah weird, folks!

That’s all for now. I LOVE YOU GUYS and I’ll share the MAGIC of “chakra glasses” with ya next time.

in pictures: the international wildlife museum

November 9, 2012 |

Aka the Dead Animals museum. Whatever. Let’s talk morality another day… For now, pictures! (FYI: this trip was part of Holly’s and my “Discover Tucson” series. It’s not really a Zócalo Hannah thing, but more of a hey-whaddayou-wanna-do-on-our-days-off thing. Part one was the M.T.D.E., part two was the un-reported-upon trip to the San Xavier Mission, and part three was [the practically un-reported-upon] All Souls Procession. Welcome to part four of many.)

Right off the bat, Holly and I were inspired to light-hearted gaity (a.k.a. idiotic photoshoots) beside this majestic beast that graces the entrance to the museum:

“What a treat! / greeted by the sight / of this majestic beast.” – Anon.

(After the lion, the next notable thing we were greeted by was a sign that informed us: “This is NOT the Desert Museum.” Duly noted.)

Then we learned about horns vs. antlers (as far as I remember, horns are bone covered in keratin, common to males and females alike, and they are not shed. Antlers are bone covered in velvet, aka skin; they are shed seasonally; found only on males; and they are larger on mature animals but grow smaller with age. Both horns and antlers are cool, though I personally have a soft spot for antlers.):

I really want to try to convey to you how confused the following display made me. It was in the “Mythological” section, which was pretty interesting stuff: displays of prehistoric bones (many from the Mediterranean region), along with explanations as to how the bones could’ve inspired myths about creatures like cyclopes and griffins. But the centaur was hilariously confusing because its explanation was not phrased in hypothetical language—it was phrased as fact. “This centaur was found… Confirms suspicions that centaurs were forced by humans into the mountains… Centaurs like to drink…” etc. Weird stuff. Entertaining. I believe in centaurs now.

This room was cray (yes, cray… I’m always afraid to—for instance—use “cray” in a text message because it will look like a typo. It’s not.):

Click to enlarge!

I will leave you, dear readers, with what is quite possibly the best advice Holly & I gleaned from our visit to the International Wildlife Museum: “Be a ferret.” Holly complied, I present her disappearing feet as evidence: