It’s mostly Mum’s fault I’m a zoologist.
When I was three, a fox got into our hen yard. It left behind several dead chooks; feathers, gizzards and guts all over the place. Apparently I was allowed to wander around and check them out. She decided that I’d be a scientist when I, quite unperturbed, wanted to know what the bits were.
When I was four, I really, really wanted to go to the zoo. Okay, said Mum, but you have to call them first to check if they’re open. I’ve always hated telephoning, but wanted to see the baby orangutans so much that I did it anyway.
Since then, she reckons that I have been:
(a) Interested in Animals
(b) Not Shy At All, Really.
This has led to all sorts of adventures, and Mum’s often come along to help out. She hasn’t had much luck though.