DIFFERENT KIND OF ZOO
By Deborah A. Erickson
Twenty years ago, Colorado farmer
Bill Swets looked at a friend's metal lawn ornament and thought there was no reason why he couldn't make something similar. Now, the yard of his family farm north of Denver is home to more than 150 imaginative creatures welded from all sorts of metal junk, including car parts, refrigerators, propane tanks, gears, chains and rusty farm implements. After an unhurried stroll through the shady grounds of the Swetsville Zoo, visitors come away with smiles on their faces and absolute amazement at the creativity of this man who has had neither art nor welding lessons.
Don't come to this zoo in hopes of seeing real animals. That rust-covered, larger-than-life bug may loosely resemble something found in nature, but the short man behind it with the propane tank for a body holding an oversized flyswatter bears no resemblance to anyone ever seen before. The Allosaurus dinosaur actually had a place in prehistoric history, but Bill Swets' rusty 20-foot tall version-"Ali Senior"-began life gas tank from a motorcycle and a shock absorber from a Chevy. Don't miss the "heavy metal band" of rockin' alligators or "The L.A. Super Bug" that is actually the body of an old Volkswagen elevated above the ground on very long, spidery legs. A laminated guide sheet available at the zoo's entrance will help you tour the grounds and marvel not only at the whimsical beasts but at their equally imaginative names.
Where does Swets get all the scrap stuff needed for his hobby? He is always on the prowl for corroded castoffs to add to his backyard stockpile, for he never knows when he might look at a discarded piece of junk and see the beginnings of a new sculpture. It also helps that he has two friends who own junk yards.
Swets was a volunteer fireman in the community for 22 years and there were times when the stress of his job led to many sleepless nights. His nocturnal therapy was to head out to the workshop, fire up the welder and produce another sculpture. None of the creatures starts as a drawing-board sketch, for Swets admits he "can't draw a lick." Instead, Swets sees some junk, puts it together as a zany concept in his mind, and then starts welding. The result is another addition to his metal menagerie.
Swets' wife,
Sandy, is a woman of never-ending patience, and Bill admits that "the Sculpture Park would not have been possible without her love and companionship." About 20,000 visitors a year turn into Sandy's driveway and some of them have even walked in the front door of her home, thinking it was part of the park. By the way, the Swets' home-another of Bill's creations-is a white castle complete with a drawbridge for a front porch. Nowadays, they keep the castle door locked. Sandy knows that when she hears clattering and banging from Bill's workshop, a new creature is being hatched and she may not see her husband for a while.
The Swetsville Zoo is one of those obscure places that you would just drive right by if you didn't know about it. It is also one of those little gems-even if it is a bit rusty-that is not to be missed.
IF YOU GO TO THE SWETSVILLE ZOO
Approximately 60 miles north of Denver on Interstate 25
Located immediately east of the highway at the Harmony Road/Timnath exit #265
Look for the small sign on the south side of the road
Open daily, dawn to dusk
Admission is free, but donations are appreciated
Call 970-484-9509 for more information