“I think your animals might be coming down with a little cold.”
I had run into an employee cleaning out a stall at the sprawling African Safari in Port Clinton, Ohio.
He turned to me and laughed.
“Well, the alpaca sneezed on me during the drive-through,” I smiled.
It was not the only exciting encounter I’d had during the drive-through. When I had entered the gift shop to purchase my ticket – an $11 day pass on groupon – the woman at the register said, “Are you alone?”
I looked around at the shelves of stuffed animals, children’s safari hats and snacks.
“Yes,” I said.
Apparently it’s cheap to visit the African Safari when you’re a lone adult on a Monday morning in their off season. But as I drove through, amazed at how close I could get to the animals, I decided that’s the best way to do it.
Situated in the sprawling farm country on the outskirts of Port Clinton, the African Safari Wildlife Park boasts fourteen different species in its drive-through tour, including elk, Scottish highlander cattle, kudus and zebras.
I was the only person going through the park and was accosted by alpacas in the first segment. They rejected the carrots and other feed I’d purchased, pushing their long necks all the way in through my car window.
One put his face to my ear and sneezed, flinging llama snot across my face, all over the steering wheel and all the way to the windshield.
“OK, moving on,” I said, wiping my face with my sleeve.
Next there were deer, elk and bongos. One ankole bull with vast horns was so excited about the carrots that he nearly came in through my passenger side door.
But the best part was the buffalo. I had to keep myself from gunning the engine when I looked up from the herd of small deer I was feeding and noticed a small group of buffalo ahead. I nearly screamed with excitement when a full-size male came up to my window and tried to poke his enormous head in to sniff me.
I stayed with the buffalo for a long time, feeding them the last of my carrots and feed. Then I drove out the gravel road through the high gate.
After reassuring me that the animals’ sniffles were merely seasonal, the employee told me I’d picked a good time to come.
“I’ve seen people lined up so far out here that they run out of gas waiting for the gates to open up,” he said.
I wiped a bit more alpaca snot off my chin and agreed. Not a bad Monday morning at all.
