The Fox and the Hedgehog

"The fox knows many things. The hedgehog knows one big thing."

- Archilochus

In two decades of working in zoos, I've developed a lot a skills - or at least the approximation of a lot of skills.  Most of this has born out of the fact that I've spent most of my career in small zoos, where I've had to wear a lot of hats.  I've done animal care and education and public relations and graphic design.  I can do a little carpentry, a little plumbing, a little landscaping, and absolutely no electrical work, mostly because I don't want to die.  I'm a regular jack of all trades, master of none.

In a sense, the same could be said of me as a zookeeper.

Small zoos tend to have small, diverse collections, and apart from a brief spell as a reptile keeper, I've always worked in jobs where I've been responsible for a diverse array of species.  Usually, I rotated what animals I took care of.  One morning I might have bears, monkeys, ducks, and parrots. The next day, I might have otters, kangaroos, crocodiles, and flamingos.  Other days, it might be big cats and large ungulates.  The only constant was change, and it held true of almost every zoo that I worked at.  Variety was the spice of life, and it certainly kept my workweek dynamic and interesting.  I felt like an especially well-rounded keeper.

Looking back, I wonder if it would have been better to have a few sharp corners to my skill sets instead.

There have been plenty of times over my career when I've been stumped by an animal issue and have needed to reach out for expert advice.  Sometimes that means contacting an Species Survival Plan coordinator or studbook keeper.  Sometimes, there is someone out there (either an individual person or a specific facility) with a reputation for the kind of expertise that I need.  In any case, I'm often humbled by the extreme, in-depth knowledge that these keepers and curators have shown about their specific animals.  They could write books or teach classes about those animals.  Some of them have.

When I was getting started in the field, most zoos were still broken down as Mammal Departments, Bird Departments, and Herp (Reptile and Amphibian, usually also overseeing any fish or invertebrate) Departments.  Then, the trends changed so that keepers took care of their animals based on their actual location in the zoo.  If a zoo had an African exhibit with lions, zebras, flamingos, ostriches, and crocodiles, it used to be that those species would be cared for by different keepers.  Now, instead of a mammal keeper taking care of the lions and zebras, "Africa" keepers take care of all of them.

That does result in well-trained, well-balanced keepers.  But as ecology and evolution show us, it's very hard - nigh impossible - to be very good at everything.  They become adequate at the husbandry of a diverse array of species, instead of masters of a specific group.  Plus, keepers are humans, with specific interests, and when they work a section, they are probably attracted to that section by a few animals that they want to work with - the rest are filler.  I've met plenty of mammal keepers who fought tooth and nail to get a section (or "string") because there were some mammals on it that they wanted to work with, but who could barely be bothered to even learn the names of the birds that went along with them, let alone how to truly learn about them.

Animal care is an amazingly complicated profession.  Our charges require us to know about nutrition, genetics, veterinary care, and enclosure design.  They need us to be proficient in training and enrichment.  We have to understand their natural histories, their social structures, and their reproductive biology.  Often, however, this doesn't come down to a dichotomy of victory or failure - it's a continuum of success.  Many keepers simply muddle along - keeping their animals in reasonable health, maybe breeding them now and then, and only scratching the surface of our potential to manage them.

I look at Sylvan Heights and what they've done with waterfowl, St. Augustine and what they've achieved with crocodilians, and many smaller-scale successes at zoos across the world.  I'm not suggesting that each zoo limit itself to only a few closely related species - a bear zoo here, a stork zoo here, a pig and peccary zoo there.  I'm saying that we should try to encourage keepers to really explore a few species in depth and build up their skills with those animals.  I'm also suggesting that, on an institutional level, each zoo should commit itself to one or two or three species (depending on the size of the zoo and the nature of the animals) and really master their care.

Build a flagship exhibit to truly highlight that animal.  Host workshops or conferences to share knowledge.  Engage in research.  Devote lots of off-exhibit space for breeding.  Like the hedgehog, let your zoo and your staff have their one big thing.