Children scream in delight at the monkeys, and the giant anteaters abide. People coo over the penguins, and still, the giant anteaters abide. The giant anteaters do not wish to impress you: They will not hurl themselves from treetops or trip adorably over their own feet. They seem to have loped in from a different epoch; they missed the memo about evolution. Giant anteaters do not (despite a pet theory of ours) eat giant ants. They do
eat up to 30,000 regular-size ants a day, however, with their two-foot tongues [insert Gene Simmons joke here]. The females gestate for six months, and they give birth to just one little giant anteater at a time. Go to the River Wild section of the Saint Louis Zoo, and be patient: The giant anteaters are sleepy and docile and shy. When they do emerge, you'll be stunned by their strange beauty. When the nuclear fallout comes, the giant anteaters will still be there, snouts pointed skyward, wondering what all the fuss is about.