Out with the Old, In with the New

Okay, so yesterday's post was a bit of a downer to end a year on, so instead of tigers dying of Bird Flu, let's end 2024 with this lovely photo from the Nashville Zoo (taken by Keeper Stephanie) of tigress Anne and her three cubs.  Best wishes for 2025!

From the News: Bird Flu is Sweeping Through Zoos

 Bird Flu is Sweeping Through Zoos

One regrettable thing about naming diseases after animals is that it creates the impression - usually false - that the disease only impacts the animals for which it is named.  This is certainly the case for HPAI - Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza, or "bird flu."  Its impacts on birds can be severe, varying based on the species.  It's impact on other animals can be worse.  A wild felid sanctuary in Washington State reported the deaths of twenty animals from the disease, resulting in the facility being quarantined.

And yes, this disease is transmissible to humans.  

Anyway, Happy Holidays.

A Disney Memory

Worth a reminder, during this chaotic time of year when we're all feeling especially worn out and overstretched and underpaid.  What we do is important.  Not only for the animals - the quality of our work is the quality of their lives - but for the visitors.  Especially for those brave, potentially foolish youngsters who think they might want to follow in our footsteps.  Spending some time to interact with a visitor, answer their questions, and go that extra mile for them might result in the most magical memories that they ever have.

Holiday Schedule

 It's around mid-November, sometimes earlier, than animal care managers are often faced with one of the most daunting chores of the year - setting the holiday schedule for the keepers.  Assuming that the facility is closed for the day (which is not a given, as some zoos are open on Thanksgiving and Christmas), someone still needs to come in and take care of the animals, to at least to the bare minimum of checks, feeds, and basic cleaning.  But who's it gonna be?

There are, to be fair, some keepers and aquarists who enjoy working the holidays.  I know because I'm one.  I find being at the zoo pretty much just me and the animals to be a real treat.  That being said, most folks want to go home.  Keepers with small children want to be there for their kids on Christmas morning.  Folks who have family out of town/state/country may want to travel to be with them.  And so it goes.

How the schedule is set varies from institution to institution.  At some places, seniority is the clear priority - the longer you work, the better your day off options are.  At others, it's first-requested, first-granted.  At some zoos, a deal is made - half of the keepers get Thanksgiving off, the other half Christmas (some folks being less attached to one holiday or the other, such as non-Christian keepers having no particular plans for Christmas).  At one zoo I worked, the arrangement was for everyone to work both holidays, with the understanding that, by all working together, we could get in and out in no time.  Everyone at that zoo was a local, and as the one person who did not have family within a ten minute drive of the zoo, I found that system to be less than satisfactory.

I've never found a system that makes everyone happy, nor do I ever expect to encounter one.  To be sure, there are sacrifices that are involved in working with animals, and an easy schedule is one of those.  It is nice, however, when facilities are able to do what they can to accommodate keepers to the best of their abilities.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas!  

That's it.  That's the post.

Christmas lights at San Antonio Zoo (Tripster.com)

American Rudolph

One of the most fascinating things about studying animals is learning about all of the seemingly improbable places that they can pop up in the wild.  We think of penguins as birds of the Antarctic (when we aren't incorrectly thinking of them as birds of the North Pole), but there are penguins on the equator, swimming alongside marine iguanas in the Galapagos Islands.  Three species of tapir live in the Neotropics, and then you have one randomly over in Southeast Asia.  Australia has a near monopoly on the marsupials, except for the various opossums in the Americas, one of which can be found as near at hand as my trashcan.  

Another animal that surprises some folks is the reindeer.  Reindeer ("caribou" in North America) are so closely associated with the Christmas legends that a lot of folks don't even think of them as real animals. When they do, perhaps they mostly think of them as domestic animals, which they are in Scandinavia.  Maybe they realize that they live in the wild as well, having seen their migratory herds tracked by nomadic wolves in a David Attenborough special.  But in any case, they are creatures of the frozen Far North.

Or are they?

Historically, there have been caribou living in the Lower 48.  Alaska, sure, but Idaho?  Washington?  That was the case until 2019 - just a few years ago - when scientists realized that the last free-roaming herd of caribou in the continental United States was teetering on the edge of extinction, with only three individuals left.  The animals were captured and relocated to a herd in British Colombia.  With that move, deemed necessary for the survival of those individuals and their genes, the species is extirpated in the Lower 48.  Will it ever return?  Who knows.  With restored habitat and protection, anything is possible.

Wouldn't that be a Christmas gift for the country?

The Last Wild Caribou of the Lower 48

Species Fact Profile: Southern Tamandua (Tamandua tetradactyla)

                                                                Southern Tamandua

                                           Tamandua tetradactyla (Linnaeus, 1758)

Range:  Northern and Central South America east of the Andes Mountains, from northern Venezuela south to northern Argentina and Uruguay.  Also occurs on Trinidad and Tobago

Habitat: Forest, Rainforest, Grassland, Scrub, Mangrove.  Most common near water, especially in areas with lots of thick vines and lianas.  Occur at elevations up to 2000 meters

Diet: Termites, Ants, Bees

Social Grouping: Solitary, Territorial

Reproduction: Breeding takes place in the fall, with females capable of having multiple estrus cycles per breeding season.  Estrus cycle is 42 days.  A single offspring (twins are rare) is born after a pregnancy of 130-150 days.   Infants remain with their mother for the first year of life, spending the first few months riding on the back of their mother (sometimes left hidden in a tree while the mother forages)

Lifespan: 20 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern.  CITES Appendix II (Brazil only)

• Body length is 53-80 centimeters, with an additional 40-59 centimeters of prehensile tail.  The underside of the tail is naked to provide a better grip when climbing.  Weigh about 4.5 kilograms.  The snout is long and curved, with a small opening about a centimeter wide
• Fur is short and dense.  Coat color may be brown or blond.  Some individuals have bold, dark markings over the shoulders and the back (sometimes called the collared anteater).  Infant coat color varies from white to black. 
• Foraging either on the ground or in trees.  Avoids ants with strong chemical defenses, such as leafcutter ants and army ants.   Nests are broken open using the large claws on the strong forearms.  Prey is extracted using the 40 centimeter long tongue.  The animal is toothless, but insects are ground up by the muscular gizzard in their stomachs.  Captives have been known to be partial to fruit and honey as well. 
• Some Amazonian Indians have been known to use tamanduas for pest control, introducing them to their homes to control the numbers of ants and termites
• The eyes are very small and weak, and the vision is believed to be poor.  Hearing is considered to be much more important
• May be active by day or by night, using hollow trees or abandoned burrows for shelter
• When stressed or threatened, they will hiss and emit a foul-smelling odor from their anal glands.  If pressed, they will stand upright and lash out with their powerful claws.  If attacked on the ground, they will back up against a rock or tree trunk, and then face the enemy.  To keep from injuring themselves with their claws, they walk on the outside of their hands
• Four subspecies are generally recognized (the nominate, T. t. nigra, T. t. quichua, and T. t. straminea). Animals from the northern part of the range tend to be lighter in color with longer, narrower skulls; southern populations tend to have darker vests of fur.  Replaced to the northwest by the northern tamandua, Tamandua mexicana
•     Widespread but locally uncommon.  No major threats.  Tolerant of some habitat disturbance.  Vulnerable to car collisions.  Sometimes hunted for meat, killed by domestic dogs, or sold on pet trade.  Sometimes persecuted by local people who fear that the tamanduas will kill their dogs.  Also hunted for the thick tendons in their tail, which can be used to make ropes, skin for leather

Winter Solstice

Happy Winter Solstice!  I'd say that the good news is that days are going to start getting longer, but believe me, I feel like each day is already plenty long enough.  At this time of year, you can usually count on the news to do two things regarding our field.  The first is to do their annual "How do the animals handle the winter?" article/story.  The second is, in the northern zoos, anyway, to provide footage of the more cold-hardy animals frolicking in the snow and presumably loving it, even if the rest of us don't.

In the spirit of that December tradition, I've provided both here.

How Chicago's Zoo Animals Stay Warm in Winter Weather

North American River Otters at Milwaukee County Zoo

Book Review: Management of Wild Mammals in Captivity and A Zoo Man's Notebook

In 1919, William Hornaday, Director of the Bronx Zoo, had just about enough of his Curator of Birds, William Beebe.  Beebe was undoubtedly a brilliant and accomplished curator; the trouble Hornaday had was that Beebe's brilliant works and accomplishments were frequently taking him very far afield of the zoo, to such an extent that he was never there.  The Zoological Society eventually responded by elevating Beebe to a new role, allowing him to devote himself fully to his research efforts abroad.  They were lucky that Beebe had an adept lieutenant who was able to step into his shoes as Curator of Birds.  The protégé was Lee Saunders Crandall.

Although he started off as a bird man, and birds remained his true passion, it was on the mammals that Crandall made his biggest mark.  In 1964, he wrote his magnum opus, The Management of Wild Mammals in Captivity, a hefty tome that was an excellent literature review of what was know of keeping virtually every species of mammal which had been kept in zoos and aquariums up until that point.  A reader could find out what size enclosure the animal was kept in, what its behavior and temperament were like, what diets had been met with success, how long they lived, how they bred and raised their young, and so on.  It's a fascinating reference which still is consulted by many curators today.  I've seldom seen a zoo library that hasn't had a copy of it.

Not long after the publication of his encyclopedic work, Crandall published a second version, much streamlined and written for popular audiences.  This book, written in partnership with William Bridges, the NYZS's Curator of Publications, was A Zoo Man's Notebook.  It follows Crandall's old book in being arranged by taxonomy, following the mammals from primates to carnivores to ungulates and down the line.  It focuses primarily, however, on the stories and anecdotes that Crandall, either directly or through his colleagues, had accumulated in years of working with the various species.  It tried to answer for the public the basic question, "What are the animals actually like?"

The book is more anthropomorphic than Wild Mammals in Captivity, as one would expect for a book written for a popular audience.  That's part of what makes it fun.  It also deals much more with the human element of the zoo - staff and visitor.  One of my favorite stories in it describes a young hyena that the Bronx Zoo received from another zoo, one which had been hand-raised in that facility's nursery.  Upon its arrival in New York, the Bronx issued a press release about the new arrival; as was not uncommon in that age, a lot of the language used to describe hyenas was... less than flattering ("sulking," "cowardly," "scavenger," etc).  When this press release trickled back to the west coast city that had furnished Crandall with the hyena, the local population - especially the children - were outraged and demanded the return of the hyena, back to folks who would appreciate it.  Crandall was forced to do some spectacular backpedaling, saying that his comments were about hyenas in general, whereas this particular specimen was the cleanest, smartest, most loveable individual he'd ever met.

In yesterday's post, I bemoaned the fact that I felt that zoos were becoming too infantilized, disinclined to be serious or academic, and so on.  The works of Lee Crandall, I feel, show the ideal of what a zoo should be able to do, as an institution if not as a single individual.  Wild Mammals in Captivity was a well-written, scholarly work, extensively cited and meticulously researched, that drew together the sum of our knowledge and built upon it for the benefit of future generations of keepers and animals.  A Zoo Man's Notebook is an excellent book for a popular audience, that takes important information about animals and introduces it to the public in a simpler, more entertaining manner.  Theoretically, reading and enjoying the one could lead to seeking out and appreciating the other at a later date.  Instead of just appealing to the lowest common denominator, there's something for different audience levels.

My main regret about Crandall is that he passed (in 1969) before he could move on to his true calling, Management of Wild Birds in Captivity, which ideally would have had its A Zoo Man's Notebook companion as well.  What a contribution to zoo ornithology that would have been.

A Zoo Man's Notebook at Amazon.com

The Management of Wild Mammals in Captivity at Amazon.com

A (Sometimes) Serious Business

Years ago, when I entered the field, one of the first things I did was sign up to join AAZK - the American Association of Zookeepers.  A month later, when my first copy of AAZK's journal, Animal Keepers Forum, arrived in the mail, I felt... well, professional.  I spent a big part of that evening sitting up and paging through it, reading the scholarly articles that my colleagues had contributed on a number of topics.  It felt mature, adult, serious.  I wasn't a glorified janitor.  I was a member of a professional organization that did serious work for a good cause.  

Years later, when I saw my own name in the journal as the author of an article, I felt like I was making an important contribution to the expansion of professional knowledge.  I was very proud.

The other day, I saw the AAZK had updated its logo.  It certainly was... a choice.

I'm always fearful of sounding like an old curmudgeons, but I get irked sometimes at the tendency of zoos to infantilize their field.  There's a popular cultural misconception that zoos are for children.  Sure, kids and their parents are an important part of our demographics, and we definitely should plan for them in our facilities and our mission.  Sometimes, however, I feel like we lean too heavily in that direction.  I don't want to gatekeep and make our profession and our campuses too highfalutin and exclude younger audiences.  But I kind of miss the days, which I sometimes feel like I was too young for, when zoos were seen as serious scientific institutions that were on par with other museums. Making ourselves too childlike - logos, graphics, signage, promotional materials - can detract from that.

This isn't about my ego or wanting to feel like an adult or a respected professional (well, okay - maybe a little).  If zoos are just about being a cute place to take small children, and serve no higher function in the eyes of the public, they cease to be important institutions and become something easily dismissed - maybe something easily outgrown.  It becomes a lot harder to justify our work if we're on the same cultural plane as Chuck E Cheeses, a glorified venue for birthday parties.  We WANT kids to come, and we WANT them to have fun, and we WANT them to have a friendly experience.  But we also have to deal with weighty scientific issues of welfare and conservation.

Perhaps I read too much into as colorful, cartoonish new logo.  But I wish that zoos and their affiliate organizations sometimes would present themselves as more mature institutions.

Smile for the Camera

 Zookeepers share their funniest animal snaps of 2024

From the News: U.S. Zoos Gave a Fortune to Protect Pandas. That’s Not How China Spent It

From the New York Times (which I'm made at anyway lately, so here's a sneak-peek behind their stupid paywall.  I'm not sure how accurate this really is - it's very hard to say for certain which individual dollars go to which programs - but it does seem like more transparency should be required for these programs.  The money US zoos provide China is a lot for the zoos, but only a drop in the bucket for China.  We've been told that the numbers of pandas in the wild are increasing, but again, how much of that is independently verified versus what we've been told by Beijing?  

Paradoxically, I think if we as a society cared less about giant pandas than we do other species, that might break China's insistent grip on the species.  Although I've recently learned that a French zoo is going to receive another highly-sought Chinese endemic - the golden snub-nosed monkey, much rarer than giant pandas in non-Chinese zoos - so maybe that's going to be the new hot-trend

The Mark of Cain

There is a bird curator I know who has a special passion for storks.  Not just, the storks, mind you, but their closest relatives as well, all of which used to lumped together as one taxonomic group before the splitter came along.  This group consists not only of the storks but the ibises, shoebills, pelicans, and flamingos as well - this curator loved them all, and if he had his way, he would have had a zoo that was full of these birds and no others.

There was one particular member of the branch of this avian family tree that he always swore up and down that he would never have in his zoo, one which he vocally criticized whenever he heard about in zoos.  And bird, ironically, is one of the most sought after, rarely-exhibited of zoo birds - the shoebill.

The shoebill, sometimes called the shoebill stork (though, again, under the new taxonomy, it's closer to the pelicans than to the storks) is a massive, bizarre-looking bird from Central Africa.  It's a tall, rather homely looking bird, with a beak like a big wooden clog and eyes that look like they belong to a serial killer.  Those eyes and that beak are a bit more striking than they'd be in other species of bird, because in a shoebill those eyes are going to be roughly on level with your eyes, the beak with your face.  They're a strange, big, fascinatingly ugly bird.  It's no wonder that zoos have loved them for decades.

While it has been accomplished, however, shoebills don't breed reliably in zoos, with only a few institutions having had luck hatching them out.  As a result, only a small number of these birds are found in American zoos, and that number is expected to continue to decline until they phase out.  I last saw the species at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park in 2016, and am not sure when or if I'll see one again.  Any attempt to re-establish the species in the US will be reliant upon wild imports, with no guarantee of successful breeding resulting in a stable population.  It's this fact which led the curator to be so adamantly opposed to the keeping of the species in the future.  Removal of animals from the wild just to fill zoo exhibits is something that we think of as being left in the past.

The thing is, though... shoebills do a great job of removing themselves from the wild.

Shoebill parents produce 1-3 eggs, but generally only one chick survives - the oldest of the clutch.  The death of the younger sibling(s) is a result of a combination of neglect from the parents and direct violence from the older sibling.  This phenomena, which is seen in many birds, ranging from grackles to boobies to raptors, is called siblicide, or Cainism, after the Biblical first murderer.  Some species are facultative cainists, in which siblings could live together, but resort to this dark behavior based on challenging environmental conditions, such as drought not providing enough food. Others are obligate cainists - one sibling almost always ends of up killing the others.  Even in good years, it's rare for more than one shoebill chick to fledge.

In situations like this, I sometimes wonder, what's the harm in zoos stepping in?  If a certain number of shoebill eggs/chicks are laid/hatched but destined to die anyway, does it really harm the natural world for a few to be removed each year to be raised in zoos?  They were just going to die anyway.  And if those birds grow up in zoos and, despite best efforts, don't breed, and we can't build a sustainable shoebill population, does that matter, if we're able to sustainably harvest a few eggs or chicks now and then to replenish zoos?   Shoebills are long-lived birds, and especially if only a few zoos were involved, the number of eggs or chicks taken would be minimal.  Presumably, if the chicks slated to die could be polled, a life in a zoo aviary would seem preferable to being bludgeoned to death by your older brother or sister, or pushed out of the nest by your parents.    

Anything that proves to be detrimental to the wild population is non-negotiable, in my opinion, and it is true that there has been harassment or wild shoebills by folks raiding the nests to sell birds to collectors.  But if it could be done in a safe, sustainable manner, I admit I see no harm. 

Zoo Review Updates, 2024

Another year, another annual update from the zoo community

Brevard Zoo opened its new lion habitat in Expedition Africa.  The zoo continues to work on developing its planned sister facility, an aquarium to be located in Port Canaveral.

Brookfield Zoo continues to work on its outdoor expansion of Tropic World, but while visitors wait for that to open, there's plenty of new sights in Chicago.  The bottle-nosed dolphins are back from their sojourn at the Minnesota Zoo.  A new North American prairie aviary has opened, featuring sandhill cranes and prairie chickens, as well as a new North American turtle exhibit.  Koalas have joined the collection for the first time, and can be seen in the Children's Zoo.  The big news, however, was the unveiling of a very ambitious new masterplan which, among other exciting developments, calls for the return to elephants and hippos to the zoo.

Chattanooga Zoo plans to add a series of exhibits for smaller African species - warthog, serval, and Cape porcupine - as well as an expanded giraffe habitat.

Cincinnati Zoo opened it's expansive new habitat for Asian elephants, with satellite exhibits for some smaller Asian species in the works.  The zoo is also at work on new habitats for black bears and sea otters, replacing the old bear grottos.  

Cleveland Metroparks Zoo has shuttered its iconic Rainforest building.  It will reopen - heavily modified, and complete with outdoor habitats - as Primate Forest, featuring the gorillas that were located elsewhere in the zoo.

Columbus Zoo is hard at work renovating its North American area.  The zoo also expanded its Asian elephant habitat, and as a result no longer houses rhinos.

Denver Zoo's new kangaroo exhibit has opened.

Fort Wayne Children's Zoo has rebranded itself as the Fort Wayne Zoo.  The zoo, long famous for its Tasmanian devils, which had been absent from the facility in recent years, was part of a new import of the species, along with Toledo and Columbus, and more on the way.

Greensboro Science Center's rainforest dome will hopefully open in 2026, according to estimates from the facility.

Indianapolis Zoo has announced plans to add new habitats for Aldabra and Galapagos tortoises in the new year.  The zoo opened its new chimpanzee habitat earlier this year (after my visit, before my review was written).  It's designed in the style of its existing (in)famous orangutan exhibit.

Milwaukee County Zoo unveiled (just this week!) a new exhibit for their Humboldt penguins, with triple the space as the old habitat.  The new exhibit is located at the zoo's entrance and features a waterfowl, underwater viewing, and improved water quality systems.

North Carolina's Asia area is still under construction - tigers, gibbons, and Komodo dragons, are among the species slated to be added, with some of the animals already present at the zoo.  The zoo also no longer exhibits seals; the former seal habitat will become a penguin exhibit.

Philadelphia Zoo has recently sent out its sloth bears and Andean bears in preparation for a renovated Bear Country.  The Humboldt penguins, which also live in that portion of the zoo, have also been sent out while construction takes place, but will return!

Pittsburgh Zoo and Aquarium, having rejoined the AZA, is launching a new masterplan, with new habitats for giraffe and orangutan being highlights.

Potawatomi Zoo's Andean bear exhibit is completed (the zoo had received its first Andean bear last year, but it was living in the old lion exhibit while construction was carried out).  The new habitat is adjacent to a new indoor dining area.

Between when I visited and when I posted the review, Seattle Aquarium has opened its exciting new Ocean Pavilion, a significant deviation for a facility which had almost exclusively focused on species native to the Puget Sound region.

The first steps of Shedd Aquarium's renovations are complete.  The iconic Caribbean reef display in the rotunda has been replaced with twin habitats, one depicting freshwater ecosystems and one depicting saltwater.

Sylvan Heights Bird Park announced plans for a new African penguin exhibit, which, like almost everything else at Sylvan Heights, will also include waterfowl.  In non-exhibit news, the facility mourned the passing of its co-founder and director, the legendary British-born aviculturist Mike Lubbock.

And finally, as previously mentioned, the Wildlife Conservation Society's Bronx Zoo will be reopening its famous World of Darkness.  Bronx has some of the finest exhibits in the country, but is not a zoo that's prone to make big changes very often, so this is very exciting indeed.  I'd seen the old building shortly before it closed, and it definitely was a bit dated and tired looking.  I'm very excited to see the zoo's fresh take on this display and what animals it will feature.

Sympathy for the Devil(s Hole Pupfish)

Death Valley National Park, straddling the California-Nevada border - attracts a lot of superlatives.  It's the largest national park in the contiguous US, as well as the lowest, the hottest, and the driest.  The latter two might make it seem like an unlikely place to look for fish - and you'd largely be right.  That being said, Death Valley is also home to Devils Hole, a geographic formation that is the only known natural habitat of the tiny, beautiful, and critically endangered Devils Hole pupfish.  This past week, the fish, one of the world's rarest, might have just got rarer.

A recent earthquake jolted the habitat.  Some of the effects were likely bad, such as upsetting food sources and eggs.  Some effects might be more positive in the long-term, but that only really matters if the short-term doesn't destroy the fish before things settle back into their favor.  When a species already occurs at very low levels in its natural habitat, there's always a risk that any change could be the nudge that tips it over the edge of extinction.

Photo Credit: NPS

There have been historical attempts to not have all of our fish in one basket, both through the establishment of additional pseudo-wild populations in refugia (none of which were successful) and in aquariums and labs.  So far, captive breeding efforts have been hit or miss, though some success is finally being made.  Early hurdles seem to have been overcome.  If need be, wild habitats could probably be repopulated with captive-bred ones.

The fight to save the Devils Hole pupfish has spanned back almost a century, with considerable controversy over how much effort and expense should be incurred to save a tiny, obscure fish (in the minds of many local people, the answer is "none").  To me, the lesson that the recent events in Death Valley call to mind is that for many endangered species (especially reptiles, amphibians, freshwater fish, and invertebrates), captive breeding is an essential tool in keeping a species safe and securing its future.  It's possible that the earthquake could doom the fish of Devils Hole to extinction.  If that tragedy were to happen, it would be good to know that we have a backup plan to save the species.

The Tragic Tale of Big Boomer

When you work with zoo animals for long enough, you eventually accumulate tales of loss.  Sometimes they are animals that you spend years working with until you can't imagine a day when they won't be there - and then they're gone.  And then there are the ones who come only too briefly before tragedy takes them away.  Sometimes they are gone in the less dramatic sense - sent to another facility, where maybe you can keep in touch with their new keepers and follow up with them.  And sometimes, they're just... gone.  And you never know what happened.

Such was the story of one of my earliest, more poignant losses - Boomer.

Boomer and I met at what we can charitably describe as a roadside zoo, where he was born not too long before I started there.  I'd had some bad professional luck and was desperate to get back to work, and, figuring any port was good in a storm, I took the job at a sketchy little place I'd never heard of before.  It was relatively nearby, which was good because I couldn't afford to move again, so I figure I'd stick it out.

Boomer did not have a particularly original name for a red kangaroo ("Boomer" being a term for a male of that species).  I should be embarrassed about that, seeing as I'm the one who named him, but I was barely out of school, he was my first kangaroo, and I was in love with him.  Being a kangaroo, he started life off as something about the size and shape of a jellybean, gradually recognizable by the expansion of his mom's pouch.  His young life took a turn for the worse when one of the senior keepers decided that she wanted a baby kangaroo to raise as an educational ambassador, and the joey was taken from the pouch.  About five seconds later, I heard that keeper exclaim with disgust.  For some reason, she hadn't counted on the possibility of the joey that she pulled being a male.

Big Boomer back before he got especially big

It's worth noting that male red kangaroos can be about twice the size of the females, or about as large as an adult man - and a fair bit stronger.  They can be very single-minded animals, not easily intimidated or cowed, and an aggressive (or, in its view) defensive, red kangaroo is a pretty frightening animal.  Hunters have had their dogs killed by them before in Australia.  Come to think of it, hunters themselves have been killed by them.

I didn't really think about it in those terms.  I just saw that we had a little joey that was pulled from the pouch and couldn't be put back in.  And so I raised him.  All of us did, I mean, but I feel like I was the most parental towards him.  The senior keeper liked taking him home sometimes to shock the neighbors, or once or twice even to a bar.  Still, she lost interest before too many months had passed, and the novelty wore off.  With my limited experience, I tried raising him in that awkward in-between of being a kangaroo and a... whatever the plan was for him to be.  I'll admit, I did get a lot of pleasure out of calling his name and watching him bounce over to me, sidle up to me, and tug at my pantleg, looking up unexpectedly.  He was able to live with the other kangaroos, so he had some socialization skills, but you could tell he never quite fit in.

Boomer grew up - physically, as well as behaviorally.  I was stuck working there for longer than I liked, and I professionally grew up with him.  Soon, not many staff members felt comfortable going in with Boomer.  He was pushy and domineering, and would shove keepers up against the walls.  Some of the female keepers got... cues... from him that he wanted to be more than friends.  None of the other male red kangaroos behaved like that - we assumed it's because Boomer, raised by people, wanted to interact with us, but still didn't know how.  At any rate, he certainly wasn't afraid of people.  I tried working with him, sometimes in the enclosure, sometimes on the other side of the fence.  The zoo's owner just saw him as a liability.  And one day, he was gone.

It wasn't until I left that zoo and got back into working at accredited facilities that it dawned on me how wrong a lot of things from the place were.  The vet care.  The enclosures.  And, in this case, the lack of transparency.  I never found out what happened to Boomer.  I presume he was sold to someone else.  Were they warned about his nature, and prepared to accommodate a half-imprinted adult male red kangaroo?  Or were they in for a nasty surprise?  Did he wind up with a mob of females elsewhere that he could live alongside peaceably, and spend out his days lounging in the sun?  Or was his fate darker?

At that place, and with that owner, asking questions was a great way to not have a job anymore.

This was in the earliest days of my career, and I'm glad that I don't work there anymore.  I don't know if I would have liked the animal caretaker I'd have become if I stayed there much longer.  But I do have a lot of memories of that place.  Some of them are happy, to be sure, but there are plenty that are bitter, or sad.  The memories of Boomer definitely fall into the later category.  I really wish that everything had gone differently for him.  Long after he was gone (and while it wasn't directly related, I didn't stay for that much longer after he left), I found myself thinking of him hopping over to see me with a hopeful look in his eyes.  I hope that his life got better after he left our gates.

Hop to It

 The Macropods ("Big Feet") are a group of marsupials that includes the kangaroos, wallaroos, and wallabies - there really isn't a clear distinction between those species, except basically size.  These animals are famous around the world for two things.  One is their pouches, but all marsupials have pouches (though they're probably more easily seen and noticed in these species, which are more bipedal).  The second is their hopping.

No other large mammal locomotes the way a kangaroo does.  In fact, kangaroos can't walk - they just hop.  Hopping is a fascinating way of moving around - after pushing off with their tail, they hit the ground with both feet, each bounce powered by the previous one.  It takes a bit more energy to get started than walking does, but once they're on the go, it's one of the most efficient methods of travel for any land mammal.  (They're also surprisingly good swimmers, but that need not occupy us now). 

Perhaps because it's energy-intensive to get started, kangaroos are inclined to rest and not hop unless they need to - when they do get up, they tend to do a few short little shuffles.  Most of the times I've seen one hopping full speed it's when they've been startled by something - like me.  Trying to catch them for one reason or another.  I try not to chase them.  It's hard and stressful on the animals.  It's hard and stressful on me.  There's usually a better way, but sometimes it has to be done.

Thankfully, hopping kangaroos in an enclosure tend to make circuits along the same predictable routes, which makes it easy to predict where they are going.  The easiest way to stop them is to snag the tail as they hop by, then hold on for dear life - a big boomer can pull you off your feet with the momentum.  Likewise, kangaroos need to push off with the tail to start hopping, so your easiest bet is to sidle up to one before it gets going and get your hands on the tail ASAP.

Species Fact Profile: Common Wallaroo (Osphranter robustus)

                                                        Common Wallaroo

                                           Osphranter robustus (Gould, 1841)

Range:  Australia (excluding Tasmania)

Habitat: Savannah, Scrub Forest, Rock Formations

Diet: Grasses and Shrubs

Social Grouping: Solitary or Small Mobs

Reproduction: Polygamous.  Breeding takes place year round.  Embryonic diapause (delayed implantation) so embryo doesn’t start to develop until previous joey is out of the pouch.  Gestation period 30-38 days.  Joey travels to pouch after birth to nurse, starts venturing out at 6 months, mostly out of the pouch at 9 months.   Males mature at 18-20 months, females at 14-24 months

Lifespan: 20-25 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern

• Body length 100-140 centimeters.  Males substantially larger than females (28-42 kilograms for males versus 18-24 kilograms for females).  Compared to other kangaroos and wallabies, they have a short, wide torso and stouter limbs and short, broad feet.  The soles of the feet are roughened, providing extra grip on rocks
• Course, shaggy fur ranges from light gray to reddish brown to black, depending on subspecies
• Males maintain home ranges of about 2.5 square kilometers.  Females have smaller home ranges (about 1 square kilometer); males overlap with several females.  Generally solitary, but will form loose groups around abundant food sources.  Males compete for access to females in boxing matches, but these do not result in significant violence
• Primarily feed at night, sheltering in brush or under rock overhangs during the day.  Capable of obtaining their required moisture from their diet, can go 2-3 months without drinking
• Generally silent, but will signal danger by making a hissing sound through the nose and pounding their feet on the ground before fleeing.  Red foxes prey on joeys
• Four recognized subspecies: eastern (nominate), western, or euro (O. r. erubescens), Barrow Island (O. r. isabellinus), and Kimerley (O. r. woodwardi).  The subspecies differ in their size (the Barrow Islander being the smallest) and their coloration. 
• One of two (or three) species sometimes called wallaroo.  Common name comes from the Dharug name for the animal, walaru, with English spelling being a combination of the words “kangaroo” and “wallaby”
• Barrow Island subspecies is considered vulnerable (poor health and nutrition).  Other subspecies are common over a broad geographic range.  Some commercial harvesting allowed under monitored conditions

Into Darkness

Last week's annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade featured an elaborate float from the Wildlife Conservation Society.  Among the artificial animals and costumed performers on the float, sharp-eyed viewers may have spotted an interesting detail - a dark panel, resembling a hollow or a cave, from which a pair of glowing eyes peered out.  Rumors had abounded for a while, and this certainly seemed to be a tip, but now the rumors are confirmed.  After an absence of about fifteen years, the Bronx Zoo is reopening one of its most iconic exhibits - the World of Darkness!

World of Darkness was one of the first zoo nocturnal houses, a trend of exhibit which certainly isn't very common today either, and usually not on a large scale.  Opened in 1969, it closed forty years later due to budget cuts, being one of the more expensive zoo exhibits to operate.  Under reverse lighting, visitors were able to see a variety of nocturnal creatures, including lemurs, small carnivores, caimans, and, of course, bats.  I've been to the Bronx Zoo on several occasions, but only saw the exhibit once, the year before it closed.

Details about the new exhibit are sparse so far, but promotional materials on the zoo's website show sloth, caiman, bat, and, as a special highlight for the seekers of zoo rarities, aye-ayes!  Who knows what else will be inside?  The newly refurbished building will open next summer, in 2025.  New exhibits are always exciting by themselves.  The return of a classic, world-famous exhibit that I thought I'd never see again, though?  That's a special thrill!

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.