A Texas Encounter with Some Ornery Critters

Remember: stay in your vehicle – and always bring enough chow for the ostrich.

“Danger, stay in your vehicle”, says the sign under the hot Texas sun. What was this, anyway? My sister, Frances, and I left Dallas for the hills of Texas, true, but aren’t the Wild West days over?

We are at the entrance to Fossil Rim Wildlife Center, 2700 acres of African-like savanna land, a pleasant and easy drive 75 miles southwest of the Dallas-Ft. Worth metroplex on Highway 67 and 3½ miles west of Glen Rose, a small town of 2200. More than 60 exotic or endangered species of animals roam here, but what’s the danger? Aren’t they fenced in?

At the ticket center we’re given an explanation: as we drive through the wooded hills: we’ll be caged in our cars while the animals roam free. We’re told to watch for the native Texas wildlife – armadillos, roadrunners and turkeys.

Our ticket money goes to a good cause. Fossil Rim is an accredited member of the American Zoo and Aquarium Association and participates in a special managed breeding program for species survival. We purchase several buckets of wildlife feed – smelly dried alfalfa pellets. It’s protection, a bribe you might call it. These animals aren’t above roadblocks and car attacks.

Aoudads are quick to hit up tourists for food pellets.

As we enter the gated community we spot a group of Aoudad, a type of Barberry sheep, giving us the eye. They have learned that cars mean food, and the greediest amble over and surround the car. Progress comes to a halt, so we lower our car windows and throw out alfalfa pellets. “Watch it!” I yell as one especially voracious fellow attempts to stick his head in the window. My sister isn’t quick enough with the electronic window button, and the animal’s horns tangle with the steering wheel. Fortunately the horns make it back out the window without tangling with us. But what a smell – this creature has a serious breath problem.

The giraffes with their long necks can’t bend down to the road, so Frances offers them the container of pellets, holding it out the window. I can’t quite bring myself to being slobbered on by a giraffe, so use the excuse of being busy taking photos. After an hour, we take a break for a picnic lunch in a protected area and browse in the gift shop, which is full of animal memorabilia.

Heading out again we run into the cheetahs, but not literally as this is one animal that is behind fencing. Thank goodness. I don’t relish a cheetah leaping onto the hood of our car.

By the time we reach the ostriches we’ve run out of alfalfa pellets, and they are not pleased. Two nasty fellows make a run for the car, beaks at the ready, and begin attacking the hood and windshield. With our windows up and car horn tooting, they eventually back off and let us continue.

The Paluxy River.

We decide to end our Fossil Rim tour on that high note and head west on the A67 for 2 miles to Dinosaur Valley State Park. At least these long dead beasts won’t be attacking us.

Here on the Paluxy River, which flows over solid rock, the first sauropod tracks in the world were discovered. These were big babies, all of 30 tons in weight and 60 feet in length. They were plant-eaters, the experts say, not that we have to worry about that today. The sun-scorched river is low, so we wade across stones for a close look and a walk in these impressive, frozen-in-stone steps of the past.

It’s late afternoon, so, after a cooling ice cream, we opt to drive back to the wilds of “Big D”, vowing never to go on a real African safari – at least not one with ostriches.

Fossilized dinosaur tracks.

Essential Information


For details on the Behind-the-Scenes Tours, map to Fossil Rim, Conservation Camp, Mountain Bike Tours, Day and Family Camps and the Lodge (accommodations at the park), visit their web site at www.fossilrim.com.

©2001 by Barbara Ballard. Reproduction of this work (including photographs) in whole or in part, and including reproduction in electronic media, without the expressed permission of the author is prohibited. Images by Barbara Ballard.

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