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Sonja had heard of a neat place for to visit just outside Denver called the Butterfly Pavilion. Billed as an invertebrate zoo, the Butterfly Pavilion opened in 1995 as an educational project that would teach people about the wonders of insects as well as marine critters, the kinds that live in tide pools. These days, are greeted outside the zoo by a towering and colorful metal sculpture of a praying mantis. But back in 2003, the giant insect hadnt taken up his post yet, so the low brick building about fifteen minutes from downtown Denver didnt shout Kid appeal on the outside. But inside, a world of wonders waited, especially for Coltons and Cassies ages. The first place we stopped was the CrawlASeeUm, a room filled with terrariums housing creepycrawly critters from beetles to roaches to spiders. One exhibit, the Tarantula Tower, drew Cassie and Colton like a magnet. This stack of terrariums was, exactly as advertised, a tower of glassedin habitats containing the kind of furry, thicklegged spiders that either fascinate you or give you the willies. Cassie and Colton took turns climbing a threestep folding stool in order to get a look at the residents of the Tarantula Towers upper stories. In one terrarium, a Mexican blonde tarantula squatted in a corner, its exoskeleton covered with what the exhibit placard described as hair in a lovely pale color. Another habitat contained a redandblack tarantula native to India. One of the scarierlooking residents was a skeleton tarantula, so named because its black legs were segmented with white bands so that the spider looked a little like an Xray in reverse. We later heard that this particular skeleton tarantula was a bit of a rebel: once, she had somehow engineered a jailbreak, invaded the habitat next door, and eaten her neighbor for lunch.
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As Colton hopped up on the footstool to see what the rogue tarantula looked like, he glanced back at me with a grin that warmed me. I could feel my neck muscles begin to unknot, and somewhere inside me a pressure valve released, the emotional equivalent of a long sigh. For the first time in months, I felt I could simply enjoy my family. Wow, look at that one Cassie said, pointing into one of the terrariums. A slightly gangly sixyearold, my daughter was as smart as a whip, a trait she got from her mom. Cassie was pointing to the exhibit sign, which read: Goliath Birdeater . . . females can be over eleven inches long. The one in this tank was only about six inches long, but its body was as thick as Coltons wrist. He stared through the glass wideeyed. I looked over and saw Sonja wrinkle her nose. I guess one of the volunteer zookeepers saw her expression, too, because he quickly came to the birdeaters defense. The Goliath is from South America, he said in a friendly, educational tone that said, Theyre not as yucky as you think. Tarantulas from North and South America are very docile. You can even hold one right over there. He pointed to where another zookeeper was holding a smaller tarantula in his palm so that a group of could take a closer look. Cassie darted across the room to see what all the fuss was about, with Sonja, Colton, and me bringing up the rear. In a corner of the room decorated to look like a bamboo hut, the keeper was displaying the undisputed star of the CrawlASeeUm, Rosie the Spider. A rosehaired tarantula from South America, Rosie was a furry arachnid with a plumsize body and legs six inches long, thick as pencils. But the best thing about Rosie from a point of view was that if you were brave enough to hold her, even for a moment, the zookeeper would award you with a sticker.