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.