Peace, Joy, Adventure

Stories and Photos by Stephanie Ortiz

My first stop is always the primates. The presence of one in particular, Sid, draws me in every time. He’s a quiet, thoughtful creature, his gaze intense and full of an understanding I can’t quite explain. His eyes always seem to meet mine, as if he’s waiting for something—some quiet exchange between us that says more than words ever could. The first time I return to the Idaho Falls Zoo each spring, I always wonder if he remembers me from the year before.

I lift my camera, but before I take the shot, I pause. I love capturing the detail surrounding his face. The way his thoughts are evident in a single snapshot. As I capture his image, I’m not just photographing Sid. I’m preserving the peace he brings. It’s a kind of therapy, a moment of stillness in a world that too often moves too fast.

This zoo has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. I walked these paths as a child, feeling the same sense of wonder and peace that I do now. Its familiar sights and sounds, the animal calls, and the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze—they’ve all been constants in my life. Now I bring my own children here, passing down this love for the zoo and the quiet joy of simply being present in the moment.  When I watch my children’s faces light up as they see the animals for the first time from their long winter break, it reminds me of the magic I felt all those years ago.

Another reason the zoo is important to me is because I got Covid in 2020, which developed into multi-organ failure. I left the hospital unable to walk for almost a year, and I still need a kidney. The zoo was where I went to learn to walk again. I could spend time with my kids there, and my husband Douglas helped me get back my passion for photography at a time when I had almost lost hope. A lot of tears were shed at the zoo over recent years, and there are a lot of good memories, too. I feel like the zoo saved my life.

Winter in Idaho Falls is long and harsh. The cold seeps into everything, and the snow lingers for months, making everything feel frozen. But with spring, the zoo comes alive again. The air shifts, and the first signs of warmth bring the promise of life. After months of waiting, we again can witness the zoo at its fullest: its animals, the colors, and the energy we need after being homebound.

 I step into the zoo once every week after the warmth of the spring equinox comes. There’s something special about arriving early, before the crowds and noise, when the world is still waking. To make a home for more than three hundred species is no ordinary feat, and this arena of life is my sanctuary, where time seems to slow down and everything feels at peace.

Bear at the Idaho Falls Zoo.

A soulful camel.

The flamingos are striking.

Red-ruffed lemur.

Fennec fox.

Colobus monkey.

Ring-tailed lemur.

Sid, a grey gibbon.

Sid is just one part of the zoo’s tranquility. Each animal here offers its own delicate balance to the ecosystem. The flamingos, with their vibrant pink feathers, seem to glow in the morning light. They stand in perfect harmony, their long necks curving gracefully as their beaks sift through the water. I love the way they stand on one leg, perfectly balanced in such an intricate way.

 Nearby, the tall forms of the cranes move with elegance. I can’t help but pause and watch them. Their blood-red feathers offer a bold contrast to the greenery that frames them.

Farther along, the red pandas lounge in branches, their fluffy bodies nestled in the boughs as they peer down with gentle curiosity. I find myself lost in their stillness, taking in the soft light that dapples their fur. With a click of the lens, I capture another set of eyes that peer at me in silent wonderment.

I see the quiet eyes of the snow leopard as it rests in the shade. It’s a mesmerizing animal, and I study its movements, captivated by its calm demeanor. The lions and tigers are more imposing with their majestic boldness, but like the snow leopard, they signify strength.

Farther along, the steady wise presence of the camels brings a sense of grounding. They stand in the sun, unbothered by passing time. To me, their patience is a gentle reminder to savor every moment. They’re a world away from their natural habitat, yet have adapted well to this Idaho weather.

All around me, the world slows. The animals move with grace, each in its own rhythm, and I realize once again that the diversity in this small corner of the world will always hold my heart. The sounds of children laughing and the calls of the animals blend together. I watch my kids, still wide-eyed with wonder as they point excitedly at the lions, the monkeys, and the towering camels. Their enthusiasm is contagious, and yet there’s something very peaceful to me about watching them in this space—free to roam, to explore, to enjoy the beauty of the zoo without a care in the world.

As I leave, I realize just how much this place has become a part of me. The zoo is alive with stories, with connections, and with moments of wonder. Each visit, each photograph, adds to the tapestry of experiences I’ve shared here, and the ones I’ll continue to share with my kids.

Sid’s gaze stays with me long after I leave, but it’s not just him. It’s the entire zoo, the way it hums with life, the way it teaches me to embrace the moment, to breathe in the vibrancy around me. Yes, there’s a world of peace here, but there’s also a world of adventure, of joy, and of quiet excitement—life in all its beautiful forms, unfolding in front of me every time I step through the gates.