On a cool, overcast morning in Florida, an expedition to see manatees being fed at the Parker Manatee Aquarium seemed like a good idea. Our destination: the complex in Bradenton Beach that holds small aquarium, which is mainly a holding spot for roughly three manatees at a time, the South Florida Museum and the Bishop Planetarium. We arrived just in time to see the manatees’ 11:15 feeding.
Snooty’s the main attraction. He’s been in captivity his entire—very long—life; in fact, he’s the oldest known manatee in the world at 62, and in this way, he provides some information about manatees by virtue of lasting such a long time. Admittedly, he does not have to worry about boats crashing into him or red tide or the vagaries of weather. A manatee that prefers people to other manatees, Snooty enjoys some other perks of lifelong captivity, such as being fed lettuce by hand and getting sweet potatoes (his preference) over white ones. There were three other manatees in the pool with Snooty, all being fed and rehabilitated in more manatee-like ways so that they can be returned to their natural habitats soon.
It was interesting to learn what it takes to maintain a manatee in captivity, and how they are most closely related to elephants and how they are protected species and what they eat and how much they weigh (males, about 1200 pounds, females up to 3000 pounds) and that they do not have blubber like whales. There’s such a funny disconnect between their lumbering figure eight-shaped bodies and their ability to move so seamlessly through the water. And those snouts… well, it’s hard to imagine that a big ol’ manatee could appear adorable, but there you have it.
There wasn’t a huge amount more to see at the aquarium and so we moved on fairly quickly to the museum, where an array of expected things—related to South Florida’s natural history and historical artifacts—comingled with a smattering of contemporary art, pre-Columbian pottery and such.
Perhaps, the thing I loved most about this museum was one particular display format: a series of pullout drawers, like flat files almost, only a bit deeper, with glass on top and displays inside. You could pull, peer, and hover close (and what’s more, this museum lets visitors take photographs). For an inquisitive seven year-old, who adores treasures and collection, this was just the most perfect way to look at the museum’s bounty. You don’t need much “interactive” to allow for active engagement, good to remember in this very plugged-in era.
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Because this was a bite-sized enough museum, we could pretty much cover it (save for the planetarium show) before the toddler melted (would that I’d remembered some milk).
I was reminded of a few things: one, a museum that’s not so huge is a true treasure. Two, the who knew factor of museums is very cool, as in, who knew that pink grapefruits were a mutation from a citrus grove in Manatee County or who knew that black bears in Florida do not hibernate (answer: I did not). Three, we are fortunate that people have collected things and protected animals and want to tell other people about it: such a basic, simple thought, but so often when we rush around, we ignore the importance of all of this, for ability to see ourselves in the scheme of the giant world. The reflection museums allow—big ones, small ones, eclectic ones—really does offer us the chance to be amazed by how much there is to know and see and learn and protect and be completely awed by.
