Suburban safari

Author: By Linda Matchan, Globe Staff

Date: SUNDAY, August 11, 1996

Page: M9

Section: Travel

Where else would someone have the -- is the word audacity? -- to dream up a concept like this? First, acquire a 350-acre parkland in suburban New Jersey. Then, breed a herd of wild animals -- zebras, lions, baboons, Bengal tigers, kangaroos and giraffes. Let them roam, charge $60 for a family of four to drive around and gawk at them, and call it a ``safari'' at ``an exotic wildlife preserve.''

But this is the story behind Six Flags Wild Safari Animal Park, which is adjacent to the Six Flags Great Adventure Theme Park in Jackson, N.J. It is one of 12 family theme parks across the country owned by Six Flags Theme Parks Inc., and the only one with a next-door safari.

What's more, they actually pulled it off.

Admittedly, we were a little leery when a group of us headed to Six Flags as a weekend destination, the minivan packed with our own two children aged 6 and 10, and three 15-year-old girls borrowed from friends in New York. The preferred destination, Disney World, just wasn't in the budget this year, so Six Flags, only 275 miles from Boston, seemed like an easy drive, if bargain basement alternative. (The undiscounted cost of Six Flags Safari and Six Flags Adventure, for a family of four, is $122, but many discounts are offered, including one for AAA members.)

True, the idea of a suburban safari seemed a bit bizarre to us, an impression reinforced when we arrived at Six Flags. Ticket takers dressed in ersatz camouflage outfits and hats really seemed a bit much. (``I mean, give me a break,'' the youngsters snickered.) Then there was the sign posted at the entry gate, calling the park the ``the world's largest safari.'' ``Like, what happened to Africa?'' my 10-year-old son objected.

And then there was the gift shop. Oh, man. Talk about crass commercialism. It takes no small amount of resourcefulness to find a way to put a gift shop in a park that prohibits you from leaving your car. (It's a drive-through gift shop, of course, operated by a man in a little thatch hut.)

But once we got rolling on our ``safari,'' we had to admit we were impressed.

It was that first elk that won us over. He trotted up to our car and poked his nose through the window, as though he were welcoming us to the park. Soon, a whole party of elk surrounded our car, and so began our adventure. The beautifully wooded animal park -- it opened in 1974 -- is 4.5 miles long and organized into 11 themed sections. These include the American section, home to elk, American bison and llamas; the elephant/rhino section; the ``African plains'' area that houses giraffes, zebras and antelopes; a section for lions and for black bears; a bird sanctuary; an Australian section sheltering kangaroos and wallabies; and areas for dromedaries and tigers.

It takes about an hour to tour the park, if you drive at a leisurely pace. At first, the drive feels like a slow-motion travelogue set in Africa -- a llama here, an antelope there, all coexisting nicely and nestling peacefully on the grass. But there is no shortage of animal activity. At one point, our daughter Sara nearly fell off her seat. ``Here comes an ostrich!'' she shouted, and indeed the world's largest living bird was bounding toward the car, stopping short and coming so close we could count the feathers on its back.

To our amazement, this long-necked bird stood taller than the Dodge Caravan, which held little interest for him; he sniffed at us dismissively, then galloped toward his next victim, an Audi. There was more excitement in Ostrich Land. Two of the birds began to hurl themselves against each other, in a strange dancelike argument: You could swear they were in a mosh pit. As it turned out, summertime is their breeding season, and they were staking their claim to certain cars, which they have come to associate with food.

By the time we entered the African Plains and spotted the elephants, Sara was entranced, and at a loss to know how to process all this.

``This is kind of weird, isn't it?'' she said, as we coasted by a pair of dromedaries. Indeed, the experience was starting to feel a bit like Jurassic Park. A beisa oryx stuck its tongue through our window and slobbered on it. Giraffes trotted to our car and grabbed a cookie. (Here's an unexpected nature lesson: Giraffes tongues are soft and spongy.) We passed lions, zebras, bears -- and then bravely headed toward the Monkey Jungle.

Not for the faint of heart is the last section, which is teeming with baboons. Because -- as a sign warns -- baboons can damage cars, the Six Flags people have considerately provided a ``monkey bypass road'' for those who want to beat a hasty retreat after departing Wild Sheep.

But we couldn't resist. Now that's an experience: seeing a moving line of cars with a bunch of baboons riding on top. The baboons, obviously want more than just a free ride; despite numerous ``don't feed the animal'' signs, it appears that there are either a lot of scofflaws in New Jersey or a peculiarly large number of motorists who just happen to transport bananas in their cars.

End of safari. Next, eager to use up the rest of our combo ticket, we drove over to the amusement park, which has a parking lot so big that little trains are necessary to shuttle you from your car to the gate. Here we spent the rest of our day, which we all agreed was fine as amusement parks go (it is loaded with scary, loopy rides that turn you upside down; boardwalk games; entertainment; and, of course, gift shops) but alas, it's no Disney World.

At first, we were a bit perplexed by the place. We thought it was more than a bit unwelcoming, for example, for guards to frisk us all at the gate, and it's still not clear why one of them confiscated my bottle of Snapple.

And what was the unifying theme here? Comparisons to Disney World were inevitable: There is a lot of greenery, though it is not as immaculately groomed as The Magic Kingdom. There is a Disney-esque Main Street, full of quaint little shops, but the impression is oddly eclectic. There are, for example, Looney Tunes characters, a Batman Stunt Show, the Lethal Weapons Water Stunt Spectacular and the HBO Backlot Commissary, a cafe filled with HBO film props.

The link, of course, is less aesthetic than commercial. All are related to Time Warner, which owns 49 percent of the Six Flags chain of theme parks, as well as HBO, DC Comics and, of course, Warner Brothers.

Since we were traveling with children of a broad range of ages, we split into two groups. With our 6-year-old, we visited Big Bunny Land, a scaled-down amsuement park designed for guests under 54 inches. It was just right for Sara, who enjoyed tame little rides like a train where she could ring the bell, spinning teacups, and an elaborate climbing structure. Bunny Land appealed less to us grown-ups, however: There was a serious lack of park benches to sit on, so the curbs were filled with tired, hot parents. The bathrooms were also very dirty.

Meanwhile, the older youngsters were having the time of their lives on the big-kid rides, even though the lines were long and they only got on 5 five of them. They started out on the water rides (on the theory, which turned out to be accurate, that they would get soaked and could spend the rest of the afternoon drying off.) They loved the Congo Rapids, a 12-person raft ride, that simulates white water; and got soaked on a log flume ride called Irrawaddy Riptide. They rode the Ferris wheel, and the Flying Waves, a fast and scary ride with 48 swings that spin around a rising tower.

The day was pronounced a success by all, after a few boardwalk games and an overpriced snack. Cokes were $1.89 -- where was my Snapple when I needed it?