I've increasingly come of the opinion that, taxonomy be damned, there are really just two kinds of zoo animals. There are those that (might) let you see them. And there are those that actually let you watch them.
This observation came to me earlier this year, when I was visiting the newly-reopened Bird House at the Smithsonian National Zoo. The building now consists of three walk-through aviaries, one focused on shorebirds, one on waterfowl, and one on songbirds. North American songbirds are rarely exhibited - let alone highlighted - in zoos, so I was particularly interested in seeing those. I took a day off to go to the zoo, set a big chunk of that time aside for the Bird House, and went (indoor) birdwatching.
I'd really expected to be the most drawn to the songbird aviary, with its host of species that would be brand new to me. And yes, I did see a whole lot of warblers I'd never heard of before. The truth was, I almost found that exhibit to be stressful, though. Songbirds are a study in motion, constantly flitting around , from the ground to the upper branches to the depths of understory, in and out of sight. I was constantly seeing a glimpse of color out of the corner of my eye, turning around, and when I'd look, they'd be gone. A great habitat for birds, with lots of space and complexity, and fun as a scavenger hunt, but you had to be content with the briefest of glimpses, in many cases, and good luck getting photos or making positive IDs if you weren't familiar with the species, as I was not.
The ducks, on the other hand, were the showstoppers for me.
Waterfowl and raptors are the two groups of North American birds you see the most often in zoos, especially the former, which work well in walk-throughs. There was not a single duck species in that aviary which I probably hadn't seen a half dozen times already that year at other institutions. And yet... compared to the songbirds, it was so peaceful in there. Not saying that there wasn't action and drama - ducks love drama, what with their chasing and bickering and mating. It's just that, unlike the warblers and waxwings and orioles, the redheads and ruddies and canvasbacks didn't particularly mind if you watched their drama unfold.
They swam about, interacting constantly, preening and squabbling and feeding, sometimes diving and being visible in the underwater viewing windows. You could settle in for a while and see a variety of behavior and really observe them. They weren't birds that you felt like you were just checking off a list of things to see. They were fellow beings who were letting you enjoy their company. Some would even bob at the water's surface, roughly at eye-level with younger visitors, and watch you watching them, then go about their important duck business.
I saw an indigo bunting in the songbird aviary. I felt like I experienced a bufflehead.
Zoos are fun places to see a variety of animals, and sometimes, especially when I'm trying to cram too much in on a given day and am rushing about, I tend to blow through more quickly than I really should. This is especially true in the case of species that I see fairly often and might, on some level I'm embarrassed to acknowledge, might even consider a little... boring. But that time with the ducks was a good reminder - there's so much more to visiting a zoo than catching sight of an animal. There's the pleasure that comes from watching it, seeing how it moves, how it feeds, how it interacts with other animals with its habitat.
In other words, taking the first steps towards beginning to understand it.
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