I grew up on the plains of Wyoming in a very tiny town named Bosler.
My family name was Boswell so we always called ourselves the Boswells from Bosler. And even now, when one of us does something "hokey" or "without class" we claim it's "just those Boswells from Bosler."
Anyway, up the road from where I lived there was another small town called Rock River.
In that town there was a zoo. A road-side zoo. Actually, it was a barnyard collection of animals they called a zoo - and it had two star attractions.
There was not a lot to do in Bosler so one day, my mother decided to take my older brother and me on an excursion up to Rock River to see the zoo.
I was somewhere around 6 years old.
Once there, my brother and I got to see goats, chickens, cows and other farm-type animals along with two creatures not common to Wyoming - monkeys!
These two monkeys were housed in a large cage and they were, understandably, the star attractions of the "zoo." In fact, other than a collection of Burma Shave signs, the only other signs along the highway between Bosler and Rock River were signs advertising, "See the monkeys at the Rock River Zoo!"
Completely taken in by the sight of these two amazing creatures, I placed myself as close to the cage as possible. In fact so close that I could poke my nose through the chicken wire enclosure and could slip both my hands through the wire. I've always been afraid of clowns and Santa Claus and horses and always kept myself back in fear of getting too close...but no way was I afraid of these two strange, caged beasts. The closer, the better.
Engrossed completely with the antics of one of the monkeys in a far corner of the cage, I failed to notice the other taking an appetizingly look at my tiny fingers protruding into the cage. My fingers must have resembled something good that the monkey liked to eat as he immediately swung over, braced himself on the side of the cage and bit down on one of my fingers.
I can remember that it didn't really hurt that much but ... surprised? Yes, that was it. Completely surprised. Everyone was surprised. My mother. My brother, who, of course laughed mightily. Other onlookers. And even the owner of the zoo.
Now you would think that when a monkey bites down on something that isn't normally part of its diet that he would spit it out or turn away and not take further interest. Well, maybe they do back east or down south...but not out west in Wyoming.
When a Wyoming monkey bites, he hangs on. This monkey was determined to
keep possession of his new-found delicacy.
Finally, after much pulling, crying, and shouting the monkey released his prize. Of course it took a few pokes from a long stick that the owner of the zoo had to convince the monkey that the treat wasn't worth the trouble. Or, perhaps the monkey decided it just wasn't that tasty.
Today, if something like that happens to you or your children what would you do? You would call 911 for a swift trip to the local hospital or, at the least, make a hasty trip to the nearest doctor to check for rabies.
Into the car piled my concerned mother, laughing brother and bawling me with a huge neckerchief wrapped around my bloody finger. We headed for Laramie.
Now it's 20 miles of two-lane blacktop from Rock River to Bosler then another 20 from Bosler to Laramie so we we're looking at 40 miles of travel. My mother, being the fine Christian woman that she is, never once went over the speed limit, which, in 1952 was somewhere around 50 mph.
Here's what the doctor did. Washed the finger. Put a bandage on the finger. That's it. What! No checking for rabies? No medicine? No shots? No stitches?
That was the end of it.
Now wait a minute here! What about my trauma? What about my new fear of monkeys? How about the blood on my shirt? And the pain and distress I had to experience?
And more questions. Why no taking pictures of the injured finger? Why no going back to Rock River to put the monkey in quarantine? No talking to lawyers? No closing down the zoo? No million dollar suit?
All I'm left with is a tiny scar and an experience that usually causes laughter; rarely sympathy. "Just one of those things that would happen to a Boswell from Bosler."
Times have changed. Humans have changed. I wonder if monkeys have.
