In the reptile house, parents and children crowd around the glass, captivated by the crocodile. Just behind them, by the iguana enclosure, an elderly lady leans on her walker, savoring the quiet corner.

She lifts her hand, holding it beside the iguana's twisted claws. With a chuckle, she says, “You've got rheumatoid arthritis too, I see.” A child rushes over, startling the iguana, which scurries away with surprising nimbleness, its claws clacking on the rocks.

The lady laughs, steadies her grip, then turns to the crocodile, ready to face down another relic of time.