Zoo Animals and Their Discontents, by Alex Halberstadt
Dr.
Vint Virga likes to arrive at a zoo several hours before it opens, when
the sun is still in the trees and the lanes are quiet and the trash
cans empty. Many of the animals haven’t yet slipped into their afternoon
malaise, when they retreat, appearing to wait out the heat and the
visitors and not do much of anything. Virga likes to creep to the edge
of their enclosures and watch. He chooses a spot and tries not to vary
it, he says, “to give the animals a sense of control.” Sometimes he
watches an animal for hours, hardly moving. That’s because what to an
average zoo visitor looks like frolicking or restlessness or even
boredom looks to Virga like a lot more — looks, in fact, like a
veritable Russian novel of truculence, joy, sociability, horniness, ire,
protectiveness, deference, melancholy and even humor.
The
ability to interpret animal behavior, Virga says, is a function of
temperament, curiosity and, mostly, decades of practice. It is not, it
turns out, especially easy. Do you know what it means when an
elephant lowers her head and folds her trunk underneath it? Or when a
zebra wuffles, softly blowing air between her lips; or when a colobus monkey snuffles, sounding a little like a hog rooting in the mud; or
when a red fox screams, sounding disconcertingly like an infant; or when
red fox kits chatter at one another; or when an African wild dog licks
and nibbles at the lips of another; or when a California sea lion
resting on the water’s surface stretches a fore flipper and one or both
rear flippers in the air, like a synchronized swimmer; or when a
hippopotamus “dung showers” by defecating while rapidly flapping its
tail?
Virga
knows, because it is his job to know. He is a behaviorist, and what he
does, expressed plainly, is see into the inner lives of animals. The
profession is an odd one: It is largely unregulated, and declaring that
you are an expert is sometimes enough to be taken for one. Most
behaviorists are former animal trainers; some come from other fields
entirely. Virga happens to be a veterinarian, very likely the only one
in the country whose full-time job is tending to the psychological
welfare of animals in captivity. He works with zoos across the United
States and in Europe, and like most mental-health professionals, he
believes that his patients possess unique personalities and vibrant
emotional lives. His recent book is titled “The Soul of All Living
Creatures.” What all of this means is that Virga, a man trained in the
scientific method, has embraced notions that until recently were viewed
in the scientific community as at best controversial, and at worst
nonsense.
Read the rest of the article here
Credit Robin Schwartz for The New York Times
No comments:
Post a Comment