I’m a volunteer at the Lisbon Zoo. I’m basically a greeter/supervisor at a huge walk-in exotic bird enclosure. The bird population within mostly consists of lorikeets of both the red and multi-coloured variants, but we also have three toucans. You know, the toucan: that small, black bird with the huge orange beak — the exact polar opposite of a pelican: that HUGE, WHITE bird with the pale yellow beak. Yet, I can’t count the number of times this happens.

Visitor #1: *Walks in, sees one of the toucans.* “Hey, look, a pelican!”

At the time it happens, there is a hugely successful ad campaign on TV for a tropical-flavoured Brazilian drink, which involves animatronic talking toucans. A family walks into the enclosure, and one of our toucans is standing right by the entrance.

Visitor #2: “Hey, a toucan! But why’s it not talking?”

At least this guy got the bird species right, though!

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My mother is on holiday in England and is walking through a famous zoo when an American tourist comes up to her. I guess she heard my mother’s Canadian accent and thought she might be able to help.

Tourist: “Hey, can you help me? Can’t nobody understand me.”

Mom: “Sure. I’ll see what I can do.”

Tourist: “I’m looking for the kay-muls. I can’t find the kay-muls.”

Mom: “The what?”

Tourist: “Kay-muls. I can see ‘em on the map, but nobody can tell me how to get to ‘em.”

Mom: “Can you show me on the map?”

The tourist takes out her map and points to what she is looking for.

Mom: “Oh! Camels!”

Tourist: “Yeah, that’s what I said, kay-muls!”

My partner and I are on a safari ride at a local zoo, which takes the visitors past various animals. There is a family on board the safari truck who are being very loud and obnoxious — swearing, shouting at the animals, etc.

We see a couple of ostriches in the distance. The tour guide points them out over the intercom. The mother of the family either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care.

Mother: *Loudly* “Oh, look, kids! What’s that? I’m gonna call it an emu! HI, EMU!”

My wife has the most adorable godson. When he was about four years old, my wife and I took him on a trip to the zoo. We arrived at the “savannah,” a big enclosure with elephants, giraffes, zebras, etc. In addition to the fence, there was a big moat to keep the animals from escaping.

Wife: “Look, [Godson], elephants! Oh, and giraffes! Aren’t they funny with those long necks?”

Godson: *Pointing to the moat* “Look, Auntie, ducks!”

Wife: *Laughing* “Oh, man! If he wanted to see ducks, we could have taken him to the park, instead.”

I’m doing work experience for a week at a zoo. I’m in the farmyard inside a barn-esque building as people wander around. A boy, no older than seven, approaches the flightless cockatoo who lives inside on a large branch wedged in a pen fence. The cockatoo is named Charlie.

Cockatoo: *Looking at the boy* “Hey, Charlie!”

He says his own name sometimes, as he’s so used to hearing it.

Boy: *Gaping* “Wow! The cockatoo knows my name!”

Me: “Actually, the cockatoo is named Charlie, too. You have the same name!”

I thought this child would be excited, but nope. He tears up and starts absolutely bawling. He seems to be literally having a breakdown.

Boy: “I don’t want to have the same name as a cockatoo!”

I was speechless. The mother came over and, thankfully, apologised and walked away.