Inside the Minnesota Zoo’s aquarium wing, most tanks were dark, their inhabitants tucked away for the night, but a few glowed softly. Starfish clung to coral, and a lone shark glided past like a shadow with teeth.
In one corner, a table offered headphones for a silent disco. Guests chose between red, blue and green channels, each pulsing with a different beat.
Outside, the air was crisp but forgiving.
The plaza buzzed with activity. Inflatable giants loomed overhead: a dinosaur, a pumpkin and a few other various inflatables were scattered around. Statues of zoo animals stood nearby, frozen mid-prowl or mid-flight.
The food lines were long, and the offerings unapologetically indulgent. Two-pound chicken legs, specialty hot chocolate, mummy apple wraps and walking tacos, each item seemed designed to warm hands and spirits.
The hungry and cheerful crowd pressed in, drawn by the scent of roasted meat and cinnamon.
Then the walking trail began.
Staff in cozy jackets stood at intervals, guiding visitors forward. The path wound through trees, past food trucks selling hot apple cider and popcorn. Even the bathroom was decked out in cobwebs, flickering lanterns and a giant inflatable with a pulsing red eye.
Halfway through, a pit stop offered souvenirs, snacks and more photo ops, with a live DJ spinning autumnal beats. It was a moment to catch one’s breath, or lose it again in laughter and sugar.
Eventually, a good way into the path, the pumpkins appeared.
They were everywhere, suspended high in the trees. From a distance, they resembled stars.
In a clearing, music swelled and the displays grew more extravagant: massive pumpkins carved with snarling faces, surrounded by hundreds of smaller ones. One enormous gourd appeared to be devouring its tiny kin. Others claimed to be carved by zoo animals, complete with paw prints and playful signage.
The trail continued, transforming into a gallery of themed carvings. Edgar Allan Poe’s haunted eyes stared out from one pumpkin. Taylor Swift’s signature smile lit up another.
Children’s books came to life — “Goodnight Moon” and “Where the Wild Things Are” — etched in stunning detail.
Each pumpkin was a portal, each carving was a story. The craftsmanship was staggering, and the sheer number of pumpkins created a sense of immersion that bordered on dreamlike.
The final stretch of the trail looped back toward the plaza. Guests emerged changed — not just by the artistry, but by the warmth, the whimsy and the way pumpkins could glow like stars when given the chance.
The event wasn’t just a seasonal attraction; it was a sensory experience, a communal celebration of fall’s theatricality.
For some, it was a family tradition. For others, a first-time visit. But whether they came for the pumpkins, the food or the chance to dance in silence under aquarium lights, they left with cheeks flushed, phones full of photos and a lingering sense that autumn had officially arrived.
