People sometimes ask if it’s exciting to shoot certain subjects. To be honest, I’m often so focused on the details of a shoot that I’m not always able to step back and find wonder in the subject alone. Instead, my mind goes to the technical: What equipment will I need? How will I handle the lighting in the enclosure? How fast are panda cubs? But walking into a place where I’ll be shooting or meeting a subject for the first time is always exciting, especially when it’s happening somewhere that most people don’t get to go.
So on that first day with Bei Bei, I felt a little thrill as a zoo staffer took me down a quiet path to the back of the panda enclosure where the panda’s keepers were waiting. They introduced themselves, handed me shoe coverings and a mask, and led me through a series of gates and eventually to Bei Bei. After a moment or two of registering that an actual panda was within reach, I got to work.
Soon I was making regular stops at the zoo to record the baby panda’s transformation. I would suit up in the protective shoe coverings and face mask and make my way inside the panda enclosure before it opened to the public. I watched Bei Bei grow from a pliant cub to a curious, energetic youth. If I got too close, he’d lunge for my gear, reminding me that he was actually a bear. He played with the keepers, diving in for a back scratch or peering around the corner from one room to the next in his version of hide-and-seek. In a move dubbed panda yoga by a colleague’s young daughter, Bei Bei would navigate his enclosure, stretching precariously to get from rock to rock, as he does in the photo at the top of the story. While following his routine, I spent one morning in the zoo kitchen as a keeper concocted a panda popsicle, a chunky blend of frozen fruit that looked good enough to pass muster with my own children.
My kids had never been more interested in my job than when I was on the Bei Bei beat; they were forever begging to come along. I would mention the project in passing to friends and neighbors, and they would light up in ways I’d never seen. “Do you need an assistant?” they would ask quite seriously, eager to take a day off from their jobs as attorneys, teachers, and parents. Turns out, everyone loved pandas. I was starting to develop a soft spot myself.
When Bei Bei was a few months old, the zoo held an official opening day for the public to come and see him. That morning I arrived early, making my way past the local television crews testing their lights. Past the line that was already forming at the entrance to the enclosure. Past two sisters from St. Louis who were wearing panda hats and three girls behind them who linked arms and did a high-kick routine, singing a Bei Bei tribute chant. I chatted with a woman who’d been making an annual pilgrimage to the zoo to see the pandas since 1982, panda earrings swinging enthusiastically from her ears. Yes, I told her, I live here. No, I wasn’t a tourist or visitor. I’m a Washingtonian and, yes, it is wonderful to have the zoo right here, in my backyard. My nine-year-old self would have thought that was pretty cool.
原文链接:
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/magazine/2020/09/popsicles-and-belly-rubs-the-joys-of-watching-panda-bei-bei-grow-up/
非常受益
要是每个单词都能点读加翻译和拓展就更好了