Franklin zoo: where penguins host tea parties 🐧☕️ & sloths moonlight as philosophers? 🦥📜 (spoiler: the llamas are judging you)

Why did Franklin zoo close?

Well, buckle up, buttercup. The Franklin Zoo’s closure wasn’t just a case of “the llamas ate the budget” (though they did try). Rumor has it the final straw was a flamingo mutiny. Staff reported the pink troublemakers staging a synchronized standoff in the pond, refusing to pose for selfies until their demands for imported shrimp were met. Management called it “aesthetic downsizing.” The flamingos called it #ShrimpOrShutdown.

The Animals Unionized (Seriously)

In a shocking twist, the zoo’s critters formed the Furry & Feathered Labor Alliance. Highlights from their manifesto:

• Penguins demanded a 50% increase in herring rations and mandatory Happy Feet screenings.
• Capybaras insisted on spa days (mud baths only, please).
• The sugar gliders union rep was… hard to take seriously. But they tried.

When negotiations broke down over who’d clean the otter exhibit, the zoo’s CEO reportedly muttered, “This is why we can’t have nice koalas,” and handed in the keys.

Structural Issues (Mostly Giraffe-Related)

Let’s just say the giraffe enclosure’s roof collapsed. Why? Because Gerald, the 18-foot-tall “wellness influencer” of the savannah, kept practicing aerial yoga on the support beams. Engineers labeled it “an act of whimsical sabotage.” Gerald labeled it “core strength training.” Either way, the repairs cost more than the zoo’s entire gift shop nacho revenue for a decade. Priorities, people.

A Misunderstood Marketing Campaign

In a last-ditch effort to boost attendance, the zoo launched “Zoo or Escape Room?”—a literal game where visitors had to solve puzzles to “free” the animals. Unfortunately, the red pandas solved the locks first. Three vanished into a nearby IKEA, two were spotted critiquing meatballs, and the rest just… quit. The campaign’s slogan? “It’s a wild time!” The health inspector’s review? “Illegally chaotic. Also, where’s Gerald?”

Is Franklin Park Zoo free with EBT card?

The Short Answer: Yes, But Also, Prepare for a Mildly Surreal Journey

If you’ve ever wondered whether your EBT card can double as a magic ticket to a red panda’s living room, rejoice! Franklin Park Zoo does indeed offer discounted admission for EBT cardholders through the Museums for All program. Translation: You can trade metaphorical breadcrumbs for literal peacocks strutting past you like they’re late for a bird board meeting. $3 per person (up to four people) gets you in—a price so low, even the frugal squirrels in the zoo’s parking lot would nod in approval.

The Nitty-Gritty Details (Or: How to Avoid a Zebra-Sized Misunderstanding)

Before you sprint to the gates with your EBT card held aloft like Simba on Pride Rock, note the fine print:

• Bring physical proof: Your EBT card + photo ID. No, “my cousin’s friend’s Netflix password” doesn’t count.
• Limit of four humans per card. Capybaras, however, enter free—if you can convince them to carpool.
• Check the calendar. The deal’s available year-round, but the zoo’s flamingos might unionize for more nap time. Always verify ahead.

Why This Feels Like Finding a Unicorn in the Petting Zoo

Let’s be real: Zoos aren’t usually where you flex your EBT card. But here, it’s not just about saving cash—it’s about unlocking a world where llamas judge your life choices and lemurs leap with the grace of someone who’s never paid a utility bill. For less than the cost of a fancy coffee, you can stare into the eyes of a snow leopard and mutually question the meaning of existence. Pro tip: If the meerkats side-eye your discount ticket, just remind them *their* meals are technically subsidized too.

Still unsure? Visit the zoo’s website or call ahead. Because nothing ruins a day with kangaroos like showing up unprepared, only to have a staff member gently explain policy while a giraffe looms judgmentally in the background.

What movie was filmed at Franklin Park Zoo?

Lights, camera, llama drama! The Franklin Park Zoo once traded peanut-throwing visitors for Hollywood crews when it became a star in the 2011 comedy Zookeeper. Starring Kevin James as a lovable zookeeper with a heart bigger than a gorilla’s appetite, the film turned the zoo’s giraffes, lions, and (of course) extremely opinionated CGI animals into accidental A-listers. Rumor has it the real-life gorillas still side-eye anyone who mentions the phrase “T.G.I. Fridays” after their cameo.

Behind the Scenes: When Animals Steal the Show

While humans handled the script, the zoo’s residents allegedly demanded rewrites. Highlights include:

• A capybara who refused to exit its pool until craft services provided extra lettuce.
• Flamingos practicing their “red carpet walk” between takes (spoiler: it’s just standing on one leg).
• The African wild dogs forming a pact to photobomb every third shot.

Critics argue the penguins deserved a Best Supporting Actor nomination. They’re still waiting.

Wait, Did a Penguin Actually Direct a Scene?

No, but the zoo’s feathered and furry locals did inspire some… creative choices. The film’s infamous “monkey business” wedding scene? Shot near the zoo’s Tropical Forest exhibit, where the lemurs reportedly heckled the actors between takes. Meanwhile, the Boston skyline lurking in the background subtly whispers, “Yes, this is a real place—no, you can’t ride the lions.”

Post-Zookeeper, the zoo leaned into its fame. Visitors can now stroll past “Griffin’s elephant habitat” (aka the actual Asian elephant enclosure) and ponder life’s big questions, like, “Do the meerkats know they’re comedy gold?” and “Why hasn’t Kevin James returned for the sequel?” The giraffes, for their part, remain blissfully unaware of their IMDb credits.

How much does it cost to get into the Franklin Park Zoo?

Let’s cut to the chase: your wallet won’t need a safari guide to survive this expedition. General admission to Franklin Park Zoo costs roughly what you’d spend on three fancy lattes or one deeply regrettable impulse buy at a gas station snack aisle. Adults? $24.95. Kids (ages 2-12)? $19.95. Seniors? $22.95. And toddlers under 2? Free, because let’s be real—they’ll just try to ride a goat anyway, and that’s priceless.

But Wait—There’s a Discount for That

If you’re the type to clip coupons or argue with self-checkout machines, rejoice! The zoo offers deals for:

• EBT cardholders ($3 per person, because even budgets deserve lion roars).
• Military personnel (discounted rates, because patriotism and penguins go hand-in-flipper).
• Groups of 10+ (bulk pricing—like Costco, but with more flamingos).

Pro tip: Check their website for seasonal promos. Sometimes you can snag a ticket for the price of a “I survived Boston traffic” bumper sticker.

Membership: For the “I Saw a Capybara Once and Now I’m Obsessed” Crowd

If you plan to visit more than twice a year, membership is cheaper than adopting a llama (probably). A basic family membership starts around $129 annually—that’s less than $11 a month for unlimited visits, which is basically Netflix for meerkats. Plus, you get discounts on giraffe-themed merch and overpriced ice cream. Priorities!

Oh, and parking? $8.25. Think of it as a mandatory donation to the “Please Don’t Honk at the Peacocks” fund. Just pay it. The alternative is circling the lot like a vulture, and nobody wants that kind of irony.