Never Have I Ever

 There are many variations of the game "Never Have I Ever."  The basic gist is a list of things, and you get a point for every one that you've done.  Some may be for bucket list travel destinations ("The Empire State Building," "The Grand Canyon," etc).  They might be experience based ("Riding in a Helicopter," "Bungee-Jumping.")  As you will no doubt be shocked by, there are plenty of non-PG versions, which probably work best as a drinking game (perhaps under the assumption that if you haven't done something yet by the start of the game, you probably will have done so by the end).

I recently saw the list below, which was published by Nebraska Wildlife Education (I was pleased to ssay I got all of them), and it struck me as a fairly sweet, wholesome version for nature lovers... but what would one for zookeepers look like?

Never Have I Ever...

1.) Had an animal solicit me with a courtship display

2.) Been accidentally locked in an exhibit

3.) Accidentally locked myself in an exhibit

4.) Tipped over a wheelbarrow full of manure (inevitably in the middle of the path)

5.) Woken up in the dead of night unsure if I locked an exhibit

6.) Snuck back to the zoo in the dead of the night to check I locked the exhibit

7.) Made a birthday cake for one of my animals

8.) Sampled one of my animal's diets

9.) Taken an animal on a roadtrip (3 hours or more) to or from a new zoo

10.) Practiced the call of one of my animals

11.) Gotten confused when talking with a coworker because the animal has the same name as a different (human) coworker

12.) Sent a sympathy card to another keeper following the death of a favorite animal

13.) Made a painting with one of my animals

14.) Developed a specific voice in my head for an animal so we can have conversations

15.) Bought or brought something from home to be used for enrichment

16.) Started a training program for an animal, only to eventually come to the conclusion that the animal has been training me

17.) Been the first person to find a baby animal at work

18.) Broken up a fight between two animals (same species or different)

19.) Taken a selfie with an animal.  Been unhappy with it.  Begged the animal to keep posing

20.) Realized that being a zookeeper was the best decision I ever made

Another list that I can say I checked each box.  Any suggestions for additions?

Start of the Slow

 "All the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray.

I've been for a walk, on a winter's day"

- The Mamas and the Papas, California Dreamin'

Fall may not official start for another three weeks, but for all practical purposes, winter is here.  By now, many zoos in the country have shifted to winter hours; some may be closed for the season.  Cold-intolerant species are being bundled inside, whether to indoor exhibits or to remain off-exhibit until the spring.  Horticulture is raking leaves, or, depending on their location, clearing snow.  Animal transfers are likely done for the year, or close to it.  Keeper talks and other education programs are winding down, and the raucous calls of hordes of field trippers are becoming fewer and fainter.  Assuming the zoo is open at all, guest services are usually greatly reduced, with fewer concessions and gift shops open.

All of this, of course, pertains to the northern zoos.   In the south, things will be as busy as ever.  Maybe busier.  For zoos in Arizona, for example, winter can be one of the more pleasant times to visit, while a trip in the summer might be a sullen, scorching slog.  

Most of the zoos that I've worked at have been open year round, but in many cases it's been a nominal distinction.  I've had plenty of days in which the few hardy guests are outnumbered by the docents who showed up and, having no one else to talk to, chase after keepers or repeat their elevator speeches to each other.  I've never worked at a zoo that was really... "on" all year.  Looking back on it, I'm glad I haven't.

Sure, the stability of year round visitation, reduced need to move animals back and forth, and all that is quite nice (the former especially from a financial perspective).  Still, this job is exhausting and taxing, and I can't imagine not having a few quiet months to recharge, work on projects, and really focus on the facilities, the animals, and my team to an extent that's less feasible when the crowds are streaming through the gates all the time.  

I feel like every time someone I know takes a trip to someplace perpetually warm, they always say that it's very nice to visit, but they wouldn't want to live there - they need variety.  They need seasons.  The same could be said about one's work life.