Something Bright And Plastic
People of all ages and sizes arrived punctually in parkas to chase ducks in the petting zoo enclosure, eat doughnuts, play giant Jenga, guess the number of jelly beans in a jar, and hunt Easter eggs. “Hunt” is the traditional and formal word for the event, despite being wildly inaccurate. Even the word “egg” is loosely used and merely describes the shape of an object. Multicolored plastic eggs were scattered unobscured upon a patch of lawn with no possibility of avoiding detection. They would absolutely all be found.
On the other hand, a pair of ducks in the petting zoo were escape artists. Although they remained within the confines of the 15-foot enclosure, they evaded all attempted pettings with expert skill. Some speculated that the pair would eventually bite somebody, but these waterfowl were consummate professionals. Biting was unnecessary. They controlled the situation with fleet dexterity, remaining just out of reach.
A conversation sprouted up on the topic of farm animals. Someone recalled acres of land where an uncle had raised cattle in the 1970s. Easter then had been a time for the kids to wander off to shoot quail or go fishing. Children are no longer permitted to go anywhere by themselves. They’re unable to avoid supervision long enough to jump back and forth over a fence to taunt a bull. Entanglements with nature are confined to petting zoos and parks. Hunting is not hunting. It is taking a step forward and reaching for something bright and plastic.