Account of an Expedition to the Evil Petting Zoo

On a hot day in late July Mz. Kingsley and I encountered the mysteries of the Evil Petting Zoo for the first time. We had spotted it off the starboard bow of our wheeled vessel some weeks before. It lays near the midpoint of a great asphalt circle course we travel some what regularly. This time we brought provisions and set out for an expedition.
We made for the back lot of a nomadic truckers watering hole, and parked near their mighty alloy covered wagons. Safely stowed we gathered the gear and travelled by foot to the entrance. The short distance trip afforded a great view to the skeleton of a big top tent that certainly once must have shielded many an unparalleled event in equine mastery. Now it sits as a barren colosseum.

At the great gate, we pondered our entrance method. Looking around eyeing the fences, we noticed that we could just use our magical powers and walk through it. Good thing for those!

We made a bee line for the tall tower, and noticed that it was still being used for some storage and stuff. The door was sealed, and a small air conditioning unit in the top was running. Lest we hear any Fee's Fye's Fo's or Fum's we left it alone. In the same general area are some really weird looking table shades and what I can only assume is a haunted Gazebo. It's in an evil petting zoo after all. The shades appear like something that might have the capability of communicating with extraterrestrial beings.

From here we set out for the Big Top Skeleton. All along the pathway there are little bent bits of metal that used to serve as hitching posts for the beasts of burden that ran the place. Nearby there are two old phone booths of the classic British looking variety. The skeleton is quite an impressive yet melancholy structure now. Happily there is ample seating for even the largest of exploring parties available in the grand stand, no need to purchase tickets in advance.

We passed by the empty stables on the way to the feared and deadly forest of Dragonwood. Judging from the amount of them, there must have been a large guild of pooper scoopers employed to keep the place. We were beginning to get really hot and were tapping our water reserves at a heavy pace. Overhead a single engine bird was towing glider beast through the sky. It was a enough to make one paranoid. We were looking forward to the respite provided by the tree cover from the heat and the prying eyes of aerial spies.

 

Guarding the gate to the road that once allowed for an interesting pony ride was a great turret. Mz. Kingsley dissuaded my preoccupation with trying to scale it so that we could venture forth into the wood. Little did we know that we would be traipsing through none other than the evil thorn patches of death. Luckily we made it more or less unscathed, but I had the luxury of long pants and closed shoes, which she regretted quite dearly lacking. Make it a lesson.

Deadly as the trail blazing was, it was delightfully free of insects, and maybe even a little cooler than in the direct sun. Even though we were still quite hot. The forest proved to be like a Tardis in that it was much bigger on the inside than that of the out. Herein was a long wooden fence, crumbling painted foam walls, the ruins of building facades, and a few additional Turrets. One Turret was enterable, quite empty (apart from the spooky shadows and such), and turned out to be the only structure we entered in the entire place.

On the far side of the wood we noticed a clearing, another an uneasily scalable fence (we are lazy explorers sometimes) and some more structures. These are near to and in the field of vision of the great asphalt circle route. After much wandering, and trail blazing we emerged once again and headed over to the market area.

This is where everyone used to feast, purchase tickets to watch the amazing feats, and gather their souvenir units and such. They all appear to have electricity and alarmification-osity-ness. To the side of the buildings lay the remnants of a mighty kiddy railroad. Must have been quite the adventuresome travel mode in its day. There were also some strange benches piled up, and a small bit of graffiti alleging to be some kind of royalty that speak a dead language. We didn't believe it. There is a foot bridge here the leads off over the railroad tracks into the distance and over to some pole barns that we didn't run over to observe.


By now our water supplies had dwindled out, and we were rather sunburned. So after stopping to log our visit at the turnstile, we made like ghosts through the gate again. All in all we were two good people in one Evil Petting Zoo for something over two hours, and Mz. Kingsley took around 3 rolls of film. After stopping by the nomadic truckers watering hole, we replenished water supplies, I was presented with the gift of a harmonica (I love harmonicas) and we continued on our way to destination land.

 

RELATED LINKS

Marengo Moraine
http://chicagowildernessmag.org/issues/winter2002/weekendexplorer.html