Zoo History: A Tomb at Ngorongoro

"So much of Africa is dead already, must the rest follow? Must everything be turned into deserts, farmland, big cities, native settlement, and dry bush? One part of the continent at least should retain its original splendour. ... Serengeti, at least, shall not die."

Located at the southern edge of the Serengeti Plains, Tanzania's Ngorongoro Crater is one of the great wildlife wonders of the world.  Contained within the walls of the extinct volcano are some of East Africa's most magnificent animals - lions and elephants, hippos and giraffes, even some of the last black rhinos in the Serengeti ecosystem.  So plentiful, so visible, and so easily approached are the residents of the Crater that some visitors have dubbed it "God's Zoo."  The nickname is perhaps apt, as the crater rim is the final resting place of one of the most extraordinary zoo-men who ever lived.

View from the floor of Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania

Bernhard Grzimek became director of the Frankfort Zoo shortly after the Allied liberation of Nazi Germany.  His appointment came not at the hands of Germans, but of the American authorities; whereas other German zoo directors eagerly supported the Nazis (sometimes in rather bizarre ways), Grzimek, a veterinarian by training, had been involved in the resistance, supplying food to hidden Jews.  Now, after the war, Grzimek had a job.  He didn't have much of a zoo, though - Allied bombing had reduced the Frankfort Zoo - virtually all German zoos, really - into rubble.  Among the tiny handful of animals (about 20) which survived was a hippo which had avoided the destruction by huddling at the bottom of its tank.

Rebuilding Frankfort Zoo was a full-time job, and Grzimek worked at it tirelessly; within his lifetime, he saw it become of the best zoos in the world, especially renown for its innovative exhibits.  Beyond the zoo, however, he took on several additional roles, including the compilation of perhaps the most comprehensive textbook of zoology ever produced.  Today, Grzimek's Encyclopedia of Animal Life is still a must-read for anyone working with animals; our zoo has a full set in our library, and I consult it often (I'd buy a copy for myself, but it would probably take up a whole bookshelf).  Yet even this scholarly opus, along with the resurrection of his zoo, pales in comparison to Grzimek's most important contribution to the animal world.

Assisted by his son Michael, Bernhard Grzimek became a pioneer in zoo field conservation.  Zoo involvement in wildlife conservation went back at least to William Hornaday at the turn of the century, but the focus had largely been preserving animals in the zoo.  Grzimek was convinced that the real work that needed to be done was saving animals in the wild, while there still was a wild.  He aimed his sights on the plains of East Africa, the greatest concentration of wildlife left on earth.

At the time, it might have seemed a ridiculous move.  The herds of East Africa seemed endless; why worry about their future?  The Grzimeks, however, saw that the world was changing; former colonies in Africa and Asia were winning independence.  Once plentiful species teetered to the edge of extinction (as with the American bison), sometimes going over the edge (as with the passenger pigeon).  Most importantly, no one knew what was even out there, so who could say what was being lost?

Wildebeest migration on the Serengeti Plains

Outfitting themselves with a small plane (painted black and white, dubbed "The Flying Zebra"), the Grzimeks and the Frankfort Zoological Society initiated a survey of the wildlife of East Africa.  The work that they did - counting the herds, mapping the migrations, studying the interactions of species - resulted in the documentary Serengeti Shall Not Die!, which won the 1959 Academy Award for Best Documentary, as well as a book of the same title.  More importantly, the awareness that it raised about East Africa's surprisingly fragile ecosystems led to the creation of Serengeti National Park.  Unlike many other African national parks, Serengeti was mapped along ecological lines to contain the whole of the great wildebeest-zebra-gazelle migrations which define the ecosystem.  Whereas many parks are too small to contain viable populations of large mammals (resulting in zoo-like management), Serengeti seems relatively secure.  The knowledge that went in to mapping out this park was obtained by the Grzimeks.  That relationship continues today; when I visited the Serengeti in 2007, it seemed that hardly a day went by without seeing a jeep with the Frankfort Zoological Society logo driving by, collecting data on the ecosystem and its animals.

This knowledge, however, had to be paid for.  In 1959, Grzimek's son Michael was flying in their plane when he collided with a griffon vulture and was killed.  Bernhard was devestated by the loss; he had his son buried on the rim of Ngorongoro Crater, where he could watch the animals below.  When Bernhard himself died in 1987 (after nodding off while watching circus animals which some children), his ashes were buried next to Michael.  It's tempting to think that together, father and son, they still watch over the animals that roam the grasslands they helped to protect.