There is one thing that all zoos have in common: they are desperately short of money. Stony broke. Financially destitute. Experiencing an ongoing negative situation vis a vis the piggy bank.

Taronga Zoo, which has survived since 1916, is no exception. Its official website consists almost entirely of pleas for cash. One is exhorted to donate to the asian elephant rainforest appeal (give money), become a Zoo Parent (give money), donate to the Taronga Foundation (give money) or become a Zoo Friend (give money). There are also cheery entreaties to be a Public Education Volunteer (work for nothing), be an Animal Watcher (work for nothing) or a Voluntary Office Worker (work for nothing). And of course you can buy the usual selection of over-priced junk from the Zoo Shop.

I'm thinking of adopting similar tactics. This website costs a bit to run, so I may start plastering it with appeals to support the Ian Foundation, become an Ian Friend or work for nothing as an Ian Education Volunteer.

The Zoo's dire thirst for raw cash leads to some compromised ideals. For example, the website cheerfully airs the fable that the Zoo aims to "...inspire Australians and our visitors to discover, explore, delight in and protect our natural world." Some might suggest there is a mild discrepancy between these lofty ideals and the sponsorship presence of such ecologically munificent entities as Coca Cola and McDonalds:

Every day the Zoo is host to hundreds of swarming school kids. I'll give you three guesses what they are most likely to find themselves having for lunch.

On the day I visited Taronga McZoo, most of it was shut or buried underneath a sprawling construction site.

Of the four photos above, the fourth is worthy of special note. It illustrates a common practice which I found rather funny: hanging 'Construction Site' signs on wire mesh bearing photos of the animals you would be seeing if the place were not under construction. In this instance, the mesh is printed with some delightful pictures of apes. Better than nothing, I guess.

The warning signs were everywhere, indicating the influence of those dreary over-zealous Safety Nazis who tend to infest this kind of construction work, impeding progress at every opportunity with their nasal whines, clipboards and forms in triplicate. I live in hope that one day, one of these Safety Geeks will be seriously injured when a pallet full of 'Danger' signs, that he has ordered to be delivered, falls on his head from a great height. If anyone can give me good evidence of such a thing happening, I may start to believe in a supreme being.

The closed areas included several of what are deemed to be the McZoo's 'key' attractions, such as the Seal Show...

...and the Aquarium, which was a hollow sepulchre in a shroud of green netting and   padlocks.

None of this particularly mattered to me, and I have no problem with the fact that the McZoo occasionally needs to refurbish itself. However, I was struck by three thoughts.

First, there was no mention of the Zoo's resemblance to a pay-per-view building swamp until after patrons had paid their entrance money and passed the Turnstile Of No Return. 

Secondly, I would have hated to be a parent escorting small children round, and having to routinely explain why the things they had been looking forward to were missing. (But hey, no worries, there's still a tasty McDonaCoke lunch to enjoy!)

Thirdly, it really is fascinating the way that wherever you go in the world, construction sites seem to be permanently bereft of anyone actually doing any work, or indeed any human presence at all:

The Komodo Dragon area wasn't technically 'closed', but may as well have been. There was nothing to see except an empty rock and a sign explaining that the Dragon was inside its heated burrow because the provided enclosure was too chilly for its tropical tastes:

Had this been my one and only chance to see a Komodo Dragon, I might have been bitterly disappointed. As it happens, I had already seen one years previously in San Diego Zoo, and in any case later on this trip I would be visiting Komodo island itself and seeing the magnificent dragons in their native habitat. So, all in all, not too much of a disappointment.

It would be wrong to suggest that the Zoo was bereft of star attractions. For example, there was Deborah, the Zoo's lovely, exceptionally charming and impressively crowd-pleasing herpetologist with very good hair. 'Herpetologist' just means she spends half her working life with a big snake wrapped round her neck:

Elsewhere, there was a free bird show, numerous creatures I'd heard of and at least one, the Quokka, which lives primarily in the minds of tournament Scrabble players.

My favourite was this crocodile. He was huge, fat, heavy and filthily bad-tempered. He was also bored out of his brains and monumentally frustrated by the very thick wall of glass between him and me:

I waited quite a while for him to open his jaws, and as soon as he did I wished he hadn't: