Species Fact Profile: Wolf Eel (Anarrhichthys ocellatus)

                                                                  Wolf Eel

                                           Anarrhichthys ocellatus (Ayres, 1855)

Range: Northern Pacific Ocean

Habitat: Marine Caves, Rocky Crevices, Reefs, up to 225 meters deep

Diet: Marine Invertebrates (Crustaceans, Bivalves, Urchins), Fish

Social Grouping: Pairs

Reproduction: Monogamous, often for life.  Breed in fall and winter, with the male wrapping around the female and fertilizing her 10,000 eggs as she expels them.  The pair coil around the egg mass (about the size of a softball) for 3-4 months, taking turns to leave the eggs to feed, with the female circulating air around the eggs and massaging them to oxygenate them.  Larva may drift in water column for up to 2 years.  Young mature at 7 years

Lifespan: 20 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN

• Grow up to 2.5 meters in length, weigh up 18 kilograms.  They have a single dorsal fin that runs the length of the body, a long, flexible, eel-like body, a small caudal fun, and no pelvic fins
• Males differ from females in having large lips and a protuberance on the top of the head
• Adults are greyish-brown or dark olive green with dark spotting.  Juveniles are orange with large dark spots.  Because of spotting, sometimes called the peacock wolf eel
• Pairs live in caves which they may remain in for their lives, unless forced out by a larger wolf eel
• Predators include large sharks and seals.  Main defense is hiding in crevices, powerful jaws.  Juveniles, which have smaller, weaker jaws, are more vulnerable to a variety of predators
• Prey is crushed with the hard teeth at the back of the jaw (captive specimens have shown a preference for eating softer prey than they would in the wild, such as squid)
• Despite its name, it is not a true eel, instead belonging to a separate family of ray-finned fish, the Anarhichadidae.  Unlike real eels, they have paired gill slits and pectoral fins
• In parts of the Pacific Northwest of America, wolf eels were called "doctor fish," as it was believed that only tribal healers were allowed to eat them; the flesh of the eels would enhance their healing abilities
• No commercial demand for a fishery; protected in some areas because of their popularity with divers and underwater photographers, as they can become quite tame

The Serenity of Water

I spent a little time mulling over the question of why aquariums - on a large scale and a small one - seem so prevalent.  As attractions, your average fish ranks much lower than your average bird or reptile, certainly less than your average mammal.  I doubt most visitors could name more than a handful of species (not vague types, but actual species) of marine life.  Apart from touch tanks, which are not applicable to all species, it's a lot harder for most visitors to directly interact with aquatic life.

Sure, aquariums have the advantage of (usually) being all-indoors, which makes them more reliable year-round attractions, and their keeping isn't as tightly regulated as it is for many other groups of animals, but all of that applies to amphibians and reptiles as well.  So why don't more cities build serpentariums to spearhead urban renewal?  (Yes, many visitors are scared of snakes, but people are also scared of roller coasters, and tend to be drawn towards what they fear).  Why doesn't your dentist keep geckos instead of clownfish?

I think it comes down to a simple fact.  Aquariums are peaceful.

I'm not particularly a fish person, but there is something incredibly calming about watching fish swim.  Many people find being near the water calming - the popularity of oceanside resorts predates the popularity of ocean swimming - so imagine the bonus of being safely, comfortable, under the water, or surrounded by water.  Unlike reptiles and amphibians, or birds and mammals, for that matter, fish in an aquarium tend to always be in motion, always visible.  Many possess fantastic colors and gorgeous patterns that can't be matched by terrestrial animals, and they come in shapes and forms that are very unfamiliar to us.

I often feel that being immersed in an underwater world is as close as we'll likely come to experiencing extraterrestrial life - an unlike diving or snorkeling, you're doing it from the comfort of a safe space where you can easily talk with and share thoughts and feelings with your friends and companions.  When people see fish in an aquarium tank, they are seldom also really seeing and noting the individual species, except for a few larger, stranger forms.  It's more like seeing the plants in a garden, or the individual colors on a painting, that all come together to form an impression on the viewer, with that impression usually being targeted as calmness, beauty, and wonder.  (Except for a few species, such as the larger sharks, where the exhibit designers tend to go for a different impression...)

I love zoos and aquariums and have chalked up well over 150 facilities so far, but there's only a tiny number of exhibits that have literally taken my breath away.  Probably the most recent of those was the main tank, Ocean Voyager, at the Georgia Aquarium.  Walking through the tunnels, or sitting in the theater-like viewing gallery and watching fish of all shapes and sizes cruise by, I felt like I was slipping into a meditative trance.  It was simultaneously so imposing, and yet so... serene.

So that's why dentist office waiting rooms - environments that are known to be fraught with tension and anxiety - have fish tanks.  Many visitors don't find fish to be particularly exciting - but they do find them calming, whether the experience is on a large scale or a small one.

Ornamental Aquariums

My interest throughout life has largely been focused on zoos and terrestrial animals, though in recent years it feels like I've been spending just as much of my spare time visiting aquariums - including several surprisingly large ones that I didn't even know existed before I went out looking for them.  There might be a few reasons for this.  One is that, whereas a new zoo is a pretty rare occurrence these days, aquariums seem to be popping up left and right.  Another is that it seems that our societal expectations of aquariums are a lot different from those of zoos.

There seems to be this cultural norm that fish and aquatic invertebrates are ornamental.  We'd all probably be pretty surprised if we went to the dentist's office and there was a small aviary attached to waiting room, certainly if there was, say, a cage of tamarins or marmosets, but a fish tank seems normal.  A crocodile pool or tortoise yard would seem out of place at a fancy restaurant or a hotel, but a fish tank is normal.  It's like on some level we've drawn a line and said that some animals are ok to be seen purely in terms of entertainment and aesthetics, and others aren't.

A large part of the aquarium bonanza we've seen are new aquariums being built as anchors for retail space or urban renewal.  Merlin Entertainments, perhaps best known for its LegoLands and Madame Tussauds Wax Museums, operates the chain aquarium Sea Life, with locations around the world.  Cities are building new aquariums to revitalize old properties or re-energize old districts, such as the relatively new aquarium in St. Louis, or the planned one in Syracuse, New York.  

Furthermore, apart from the entertainment world, aquariums pop up in museums and nature centers, sometimes as a tiny feature, sometimes as a major component.  When I visit a zoo, I know I've visited a zoo.  With aquariums, I sometimes find myself wondering if a place I just visited counts as an aquarium or not.

A major factor, I suppose, is that compared to other animals, aquatic life is fairly unregulated in the US.  Assuming it's even legal in your state as a private business, you'd have to jump through some crazy hoops to get permits for, say, monkeys or exotic cats, and then if you did get them, there's a lot more public scrutiny on the keeping and welfare of those animals (not a lot, maybe, but it seems like things are tightening up, to judge from the crack down on some notoriously shoddy facilities in recent years).  But fish?  No one really seems to care.  If an aquarium steers away from marine mammals, it's almost as if the animals that they do have aren't seen as animals - more like living pieces of art. 

Zoo Review: Maritime Aquarium at Norwalk

Located on the waterfront in Norwalk, Connecticut, the Maritime Aquarium is built on the site (and partially incorporating) an old ironworks.  At the time of its opening in 1988, it was billed as the Maritime Center and was more of a general museum, with the name changing in 1996 to place more focus on the live animal exhibits which were quickly becoming central to the facility.  It's hard to describe, but when I visited, it seemed like the aquarium had a somewhat different feel from many others that I'd visited - much brighter, airier, maybe more of a kid-friendly vibe to the whole facility than I've seen in many others, which tend to be somewhat dark.

The aquarium is a two-level facility, with much of the emphasis being on the native wildlife of nearby Long Island Sound.  Immediately inside the lobby you pass through a corridor of gift shops, snacks, and a theater; this mall-like atmosphere gave me a case of deja zoo, immediately reminding me of the Oklahoma Aquarium, a similarity that stuck with me for much of the visit.  In the heart of the aquarium is probably its star exhibit, an indoor/outdoor two-level habitat for harbor seals, with viewing through underwater windows as well as a catwalk around the surface level.  Daily feeding demonstrations are offered several times daily.

A meandering hallway past the seals leads through a series of habitats of Long Island Sound marine life, from the residents of the salt marshes that live where the rivers meet the sea to the deep water haunts of sea turtles, sand tiger sharks, and other large oceanic residents.  The 110,000 gallon shark tank offers tall viewing windows that provide excellent viewing of the sharks as they cruise by.  (When I visit aquariums, I often find that the shark exhibit is the exhibit that I spend the least time at, both because they all sort of look alike to me, as well as my unwillingness to push myself through the enormous crowds that they gather).  The aquarium is, by and large, fairly boilerplate in most of its other exhibits, including giant Pacific octopus, seahorses, a jellyfish gallery (in their standard, eerie glowing tank), a shark and ray touch tank, and Atlantic sturgeons in a separate touch tank.  

Being a New England facility, it seems almost obligatory that there's an impressive specimen of American lobster on display.  I really enjoyed seeing the various local fishes that I'd never heard of or had the chance to photograph, though seeing Atlantic salmon was also a bit of a treat; outside of my visit to the Pacific Northwest, I don't think I'd seen salmon in aquariums before, or at least with much regularity, considering how important the species is to us.  A small gallery features native reptiles and amphibians, with my favorite being a handsome display of diamondback terrapins.  I also liked the horseshoe crab exhibit, with a window into a culturing lab.

Perhaps the least-impressive exhibit is the river otter habitat; by no means the worst I've seen (and certainly better than Oklahoma Aquarium, the first comparison that I made), but I've just seen to many relatively plain, smallish, all-indoor river otter exhibits in aquariums and nature museums, and it would be nice to see something better for the animals.

Like many aquariums I've been to, it sometimes seems that the Maritime Aquarium isn't totally convinced in the star power of its own aquatic species, and feels the need to branch out a bit.  A gallery on the second floor is said to focus on how water connects different habitats, but as far as I can tell it mostly serves as a good enough excuse for the aquarium to feature an assortment of non-fishy species, such as meerkats, small primates, porcupines, and tortoises.   Which, to be fair, this is hardly the only aquarium to do... To be honest, I was mostly just surprised that it didn't go all in on being an Amazon rainforest exhibit to complete the standard aquarium checklist of required exhibits.

The Maritime Aquarium won't knock the socks off of an zoo or aquarium hobbyist on the search for new species or very striking exhibits, but it is a pleasant, attractive facility with a decent collection of native and exotic species in habitats which are, by and large, decent, and the visitors that I saw that day all seemed to be enjoying themselves.  Maybe not worth making a pilgrimage just to see, the way I would some of the truly spectacular aquariums out there, but still well worth a visit if you're in the area.

Maritime Aquarium at Norwalk

Zoo Review: Aquarium of Niagara

This month, instead of featuring a two-part review of a facility, as I often do, I'll be doing two reviews of two smaller facilities that I recently visited while traveling through the northeast.

A stone's throw away from its famous, namesake falls (please do not throw stones), the Aquarium of Niagara perches on the parkland that overlooks the raging river.

This is a fairly small aquarium which is largely situated to take advantage of the tourism that comes to see the Falls.  At the time of my visit it was slated to become a fair bit larger, as a second building was under construction.  This building, Great Lakes 360, focuses on the native fish and herps of the Great Lakes region, and I'm sorry that it wasn't complete by the time that I visited.  I find that a lot of small aquariums are a bit repetitive in terms of species, so native sections are usually my chance to see new species (my timing of this trip was set based on other factors, so it was either visit the more-limited version of the aquarium, or potentially never see it, so my review is focused on what I could see).

Outside of the aquarium is a small pool for harbor and gray seals.  It is, to be frank, one of the less-impressive seal pools I've seen, small and set low, so you're kind of looking into a pit.  More pinnipeds are seen indoors in a circular enclosure for California sea lions with underwater viewing.  I'd heard that the aquarium used to have Amazon river dolphins, and I assume that this was their exhibit.  The exhibit struck me as a bit stark, in addition to being entirely indoors, but I saw some work being done that suggested that more complexity was being added in the form of more haul-off spaces.  I've seen a few other aquariums (including some major, very well-regarded ones) that have similar set-ups for sea lions.  Part of me wonders if aquariums feel that, since they get so much training, interaction, and enrichment, sea lions don't require the habitat size and complexity that one might suspect.  I've never worked with pinnipeds, so this is speculation.

The fish and invertebrate exhibits are seen in the galleries that line the walls on two floors (the sea lions can also be viewed from the second floor).  The tanks varied between freshwater and saltwater species, with notable occupants including Kemp's ridley sea turtle (with a large remora riding on its carapace - an aquarium staffer told me that they were often found this way, with no negative impact on the turtle), Asian arowana, electric eel, lake sturgeon, and lined seahorse.  No large sharks were present, though there was a small touch pool with rays and bamboo sharks.  There was also a small gallery of jellyfish.  Signage was a bit lacking, which I regrettably find to be true of a great many public aquariums.

Apart from the sea lions, the building's biggest attraction is the Humboldt penguin exhibit.  This is also perhaps the best of the aquarium's exhibits, and compares reasonably with indoor penguin exhibits I've seen at other facilities.

One fun fact I learned about this facility - when it opened, in 1965, it was originally planned as a test facility for keeping marine life in artificial seawater.  A few other facilities had dabbled with it, but this was the first aquarium, based on its distance from the sea, to exclusively use the formula.  This has greatly expanded the ability of inland cities to build and maintain marine aquariums, and is certainly a noteworthy contribution to zoo and aquarium history.

All in all, this is not an aquarium that will take too long to go through (again, without speaking to the Great Lakes 360 expansion).  I don't know if I'd go out of my way for a repeat visit, and there's so much to do at Niagara Falls (I mean, you could look at the falls all day) that I don't know if I was there with a group I'd recommend taking much time for the aquarium.  But if you have some time, enjoy looking at aquatic life, and want to drop a few bucks to support a nonprofit and help it care for its animals, it can be a pleasant enough place to meander for an hour.

Aquarium of Niagara

War of the Lobstermen

For years, one the iconic educational hallmarks of many North American aquariums has been Seafood Watch - the program pioneered by the Monterey Bay Aquarium which seeks to drive awareness about sustainable seafood choices.  It breaks down fish and aquatic invertebrates into categories based on whether or not they are environmentally sound options.  I don't eat an enormous variety of seafood, but what I do eat has largely been driven by that little card and its recommendations.

Over two years ago, the Aquarium announced that it was concerned that New England lobster fisheries were posing a threat to whales, which could get entangled and drown in their lines, and recommended folks stop supporting those fisheries until the concerns were addressed.  The impacted industry, to put it mildly, did not take that well.  There's been a brouhaha about it since then, which just came to head  - a US District Court judge in Maine has decided that yes, a coalition of lobster fishermen can sue Monterey Bay Aquarium for defamation, as their accusations have harmed their business.

Main lobster fishermen can sue environmental group for defamation, judge says

The outcome of this case could have a tremendous impact on seafood sustainability programs.  For one thing, I'll be fascinated to see what kind of impact MBA and Seafood Watch have had on lobster sales - can it be demonstrated that they actually drove down lobster consumption?  If they did not, then there is no case... but if they did, it would show that people really do listen to this campaign.  Also, for something to be defamation, it has to be demonstrated to be untrue - so, are we going to see evidence of what kind of impact lobster fisheries are having on whales?  If so, this could potentially backfire on the lobster industry, as it may force a spotlight on their practices and how whales are being impacted.

I'm not thrilled about this case - I don't like the idea of an industry trying to stifle real concerns about harmful practices by threatening lawsuits.  I think all of this time and energy and money would be better spent trying to find ways to make lobstering and whale conservation more compatible.  Still, I'm hoping that some good comes out of this case, such as an increased awareness of the lobster industry's impact on whales, or a new appreciation for the power of Seafood Watch.  

Because of the Aquarium loses, and any fishing industry learns that it can sue or browbeat its way off of the list, then there really won't be much of a future for Seafood Watch.

Warts and All

"Notoriety wasn't as good as fame, but it was heaps better than obscurity."

- Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Good Omens

When researching the Colorado river toad, it was difficult to find as much info as I would have liked about the actual natural history of the species.  Most articles that I read about it were primarily focused on the properties of the poisons secreted from the toad, and what happens to curious humans who ingest those secretions.  Which, I guess is kind of fair.  There are thousands of species of frogs and toads in the world, many of which very little is known about.  What puts this species on the radar of so many folks is that fact that some people, ill-advisedly, have taken to licking them.

There are a number of species out there which have, through one way or another, achieved some kind of notoriety.  Ask a layperson about bonobos, and you may hear them tell you a lot about the sex lives of the apes.  Ask about the cassowary, and you may get a lecture about how lethal they can be.  I don't think I've ever seen a social media post about hippos (including pygmy hippos, for which the fact really doesn't apply) that didn't have tons of comments proclaiming them Africa's deadliest animals.  And there's a ton of crazy info out their about the sex lives and reproductive anatomy of animals that I'm not even gonna touch here...

And sometimes we, as zoo professionals and educators, get a little lazy and use these scandalous facts as a hook to attract visitors to a species... but we don't really dive deeper than them to show the visitor the whole, actual animal.  Instead, the animal gets reduced to a quirky fact, which often gets exaggerated out of any proportion, might actually be very inaccurate, and in some cases comes to define the animal.  

Our animals are complex.  They are unique.  They are multifaceted.  And there's more to them than whether or not they are lickable.

Species Fact Profile: Colorado River Toad (Incilus alvarius)

                                     Colorado River (Sonoran Desert) Toad

                                           Incilius alvarius (Girard, 1859)

Range: Southwestern United States, northwestern Mexico

Habitat: Desert, Semi-Desert.  Usually found near water, such as irrigation ditches

Diet: Invertebrates (especially beetles), Small Vertebrates

Social Grouping: Asocial

Reproduction: Breeding triggered by rainfalls, usually in July.  Congregate around temporary bodies of water to breed; the males gives his (very weak) call.  Female lays up to 8,000 jelly-like eggs in strings, deposited in still or slow-moving bodies of water.  Tadpoles hatch in 2-12 days.  Metamorphosis complete in 6-10 weeks.

Lifespan: 10-20 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern

• Largest native toad in the United States (the introduced cane toad is larger), measuring 18-20 centimeters long and weighing 300 grams
• Greenish-brown with some mottling; a few large, wartlike growths, especially on the hind legs, but skin is overall fairly smooth and leathery.  White lump at the corner of the mouth on both sides of the face.  Underside is creamy white.  Eyes are gold
• Active by day during the cooler months, nocturnal during the warmer months.  Take shelter in rodent burrows.  Aestivate during extreme heat.  Most active in rainy weather
• Primary defense from predators is a poison secreted from the parotoid glands, powerful enough to kill a large dog.  Some predators, such as raccoons, have developed the technique of flipping the toad over the attacking the belly, far away from the poison glands.
• Though dangerous (potentially fatally so), it has been noted that ingestion of the poison (in pop culture, usually referred to as "toad licking") can lead to hallucinations.  Possession of the toxin, Bufotenin, is outlawed in much of the US, as is possession of the live toads, especially if thought to be for the purpose of using them as a psychoactive agent

Don't Lick the Toads

In the practice of handling amphibians, it's worth noting that you need to keep hands clean not just for the safety of the animal, but for you as well.  Granted, you should wash your hands after touching any animal, but with amphibians there is a special imperative.  Many species secrete toxins through their skins - the poison dart frogs are the most famous examples, but so do a wide variety of other species.  

Again, these secretions are poisonous, which means they are absorbed - assuming it doesn't bite you, you could pet a king cobra or other venomous snake all day with no ill effect, as those toxins need to be injected.

It's the absorbent nature of amphibian venom which has, among other things, given rise to the trend to licking certain species of toad to get high off of their toxins.

These poisons aren't just a potential safety concern for keepers and predators.  They can also pose a threat to exhibit-mates.  Some amphibians can be a challenge to house in mixed-species exhibits, as they may, say, soak in a water bowl and secrete their poison, to the deleterious effect of other species in their enclosure.

Save the Frogs, Wash Your Hands

 I was showing a visitor around the backside of our reptile house one day when, upon opening the back of a python display, a saw a pile of poop on the floor of the cage.  Without a second thought, I reached in, grabbed it up, and tossed it in the trashcan.  I then turned around to the sink immediately behind me and scrubbed my hands.  When I turned back around, my companion was staring at me, horrified.

"Did you just pick that up with your bare hands?" she asked.

"Do you ever forget to wash your hands before you eat, or before you touch your face?" I replied.

"Well, yes."

"I don't."

Working at zoos has made me a compulsive handwasher.  This is not a profession-wide trend, and I think I'm actually something of an outlier.  Sometimes, it's to my detriment.  I remember working on a hard project in one of our exhibits with our team when our manager brought us a box of donuts as a thank you break.  While my coworkers immediately tore into them, I had to sprint across the zoo to find a bathroom... one that wasn't out of soap... and race back in time before they were all gobbled up.  My coworkers, with no such qualms, had already dug in.  I really hoped that those brown smears on the box were chocolate, as opposed to... other things.

I've tried carrying little things of hand sanitizer with me, but dang it, it just doesn't feel the same cleanliness after.

As I demonstrated with the python, washing my hands so much means that I really don't care about getting them dirty at work, since I know they'll be scrubbed clean soon.  But it just means that the scrubbing is essential and non-negotiable.  

Washing your hands doesn't just keep you healthy - it's also important to wash your hands in between animals that you handle to reduce the risk of transferring diseases or parasites.  It also has the benefit of removing the smell of other animals from your hands so as not to entice a reaction you might not want - like, say, a snake biting at your hand because it smells small mammal or bird on them.

The one group of animals that I'm most fastidious about washing around are the amphibians - even though I try to handle them as little as possible.  With their permeable skin, they are likely to absorb environmental contaminants, so I want my hands clean - and that also means rinsed thoroughly so that they don't absorb any soap residue.  Also, their soft skin is easily damaged, so I want my hands to still be wet so I don't inadvertently tear their skin.  This, of course, makes the naturally slippery frogs and salamanders even trickier to hold.

During the 2020 coronavirus pandemic, I was happy to see that handwashing and basic hygiene came into fashion, if only briefly.  That said, I was also horrified to learn how many people weren't washing their hands before and had to be taught this basic skill.

Species Fact Profile: Blanding's Turtle (Emydoidea blandingii)

                                                         Blanding's Turtle

                                           Emydoidea blandingii (Holbrook, 1838)

Range: Northeastern/Nort Central United States, Southern Canada

Habitat: Wetlands (preference for clear, shallow water with plentiful vegetation)

Diet: Crustaceans, Fish, Frogs, Carrion, Berries, and Vegetation

Social Grouping: Asocial

Reproduction: 1-2 clutches of 8-15 eggs (range 3-22, varying across range) in a year, females usually reproducing every other year.  Usually nest in sunny areas with well-drained soil.  Incubation period 82-96 (range 65-128, again varying across range) days.  Hatchlings about 3.3 centimeters at hatching.  Sexually mature at 12-20 years based on size, with males maturing earlier than females.

Lifespan: 80 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Endangered, CITES Appendix II

• Males have a carapace length of 28 centimeters, females up to 22 centimeters.  Carapace is domed but slightly flattened along the midline, appears oblong from above.  Plastron is hinged, but does not close up tightly, sometimes called “semi-box” turtle
• Carapace is dark with numerous yellow or white streaks, while the plastron is yellow with symmetrical dark blotches.  The exposed skin is dark green-brown with some light speckling and a characteristic bright yellow chin and throat.
• Overwinter under or near the water, either buried in the mud or in vegetation and debris.  During the nesting system, females may travel up to 1 kilometer from the water to lay
• Predators include raccoons and foxes.  The turtles leave strong scent trails, which makes them more vulnerable to tracking by predators
• ·Only member of the genus Emydoidea, but sometimes placed in Emys with the European pond turtle and Sicilian pond turtle, rather than North American species.  Species name honors American naturalist Dr. William Blanding (1773-1857).
• Declining due to a variety of factors, including loss of habitat and fragmentation, mortality from roads (especially a problem for females on their way to lay), and increased predation of eggs and hatchlings by artificially-elevated populations of raccoons and other meso-predators.
•  Not widely sought after in trade, but even occasional collection for consumption or export can further reduce populations.  Often caught as bycatch during snapping turtle fishing.  Sometimes captured for sale on pet trade, with gravid females, being away from the water and exposed, being the most vulnerable to capture
• Raymond Ditmars described the species as very common in parts of the US when he wrote his Reptiles of the World and found it “erratic in habits” – noted that some species seemed to be primarily aquatic, others were primarily terrestrial (perhaps males vs females, seasonally?)
• Several US facilities – including Brookfield, Cosley, Shedd Aquarium, and Toronto – work with government agencies on a head-start program to collect gravid females, collect their eggs and raise them in safe conditions, and release them back to the wild years later (this supplementing the SSP breeding program).  Released turtles have been found years later, indicating their survival and the success of the program

Eating Crow

Just a reminder of the kinds of important work that Federal employees - supported by zoos - can accomplish in helping to repair and restore our natural world.  Who will step up and do the work without partners in the government?  Will the current regime even allow such efforts to take place, regardless of who is paying for them, or deem them an obstacle to resource extraction, development, and just plain "woke?"

This rare, intelligent species of crow is taking flight in Hawaii again

A Serpentine Spectrum

I used to be able to say, with complete sincerity, that in a lifetime of working with reptiles, I've never been bitten by a venomous snake.

I suppose that I can no longer say that.  Not because of any recent bite that's changed by stats - but because of the continuing evolution and redefinition of "venom."

A lot of people think of venom as binary - a snake is or it isn't, and if it is, and it bites you, you're going to die (instantly, if the movies are to be trusted... which they aren't).  In reality, venom is a spectrum.  If we're describing it by its pure definition, a substance which is injected (via fangs, stingers, etc) that has an injurious impact on the victim... well, a lot of species become venomous.  The thing is, we just never really noticed or considered a lot of them venomous before, because the impact on humans - the species that we are, naturally, the most concerned about - is negligible.  

Gartersnakes, for example, are a group of fairly small, very common snakes found across North America.  I played with them all the time as a kid, and was nipped more than once.  They are one of the species that I first learned snake handling on - and apparently, they actually are venomous.  None of those bites ever had any impact on me, but the venom was still there - it was just meant to act on their actual prey, not on humans.  The same can be said for many exotic snakes.  Tentacled snakes, an aquatic Asian species very popular in zoos and aquariums, are also mildly venomous.  In the unlikely event that you can get one to bite you (they are very docile), you may experience some slight itchiness.  Maybe.

This keeper probably wouldn't be holding a "real" venomous snake this way

This mostly becomes a headache for herp curators who are formulating protocols for their facilities.  When I was starting off in the field, the dichotomy between venomous and nonvenomous snakes was clear.  If you had training and experience that had been signed off by the curator, you were clear to work with the venomous snakes.  If you didn't, then you did not.  There were no ifs, ands, or buts, and an untrained keeper were to be found working with a venomous snake without approval, there would be hell to pay.  Some of those "mildly venomous" species - the tentacled snakes came to mind - were still counted as venomous, because no one wanted to decide where to draw the line, and it seemed like a slippery slope.

Still, new keepers were, on their first day, working with gartersnakes, and hognosed snakes, and other snakes that we know now are venomous.  I wonder how the protocols have changed to embrace this new reality.  Which species are safe to work with?  Does it matter for training purposes?  For safety drills?  For insurance?  Can venomous snakes neatly be divided into dangerous and non-dangerous categories?

Nature is messy, and animals don't seem to read the rule books that we write.  That's part of what makes working with them so chaotic - and so much fun.

Force Feeding a Giant

Samantha, the Bronx Zoo's reticulated python, may "only" have been 21 feet when they got her, but she was able to tack on another 5 feet in the decade that she lived at the zoo.  She fared far better than many of the giant snakes collected from the wild over the years for zoos and collectors, which is why she was able to live (and grow) so much longer.  The early days of the keeping giant snakes in our reptile collections, around the turn of the last century when Roosevelt first issued his reward, were sagas of failure.

Big snakes were collected from the wild, but typically failed to survive for very long in many cases.  There are a few reasons why.  Difficulty in keeping snakes and other reptiles sufficiently warm with the technology of the era was part of the challenge.  I'd read of several zoos that gave their snakes blankets trying to keep them warm.  In some cases, the snakes ate the blankets.

A more recurring challenge was getting the snakes to eat.

A big snake can go for a long time - over a year, in some cases - without a meal.  This is true in the zoo as in the wild.  They do need to eat at some point, however, and early zoos had a very difficult time getting their snakes eating.  I suspect that this was in part due to the fact that the snakes weren't sufficiently warm and didn't have good lighting, which depressed their appetites.  Part was that the exhibits of the day were pretty barren, so a snake, feeling exposed and unable to hide, would be reluctant to eat (a feeding snake is a vulnerable snake, as its only defensive mechanism is plugged with food for a period of time while it slowly swallows).  Part was also that the snakes were adults taken from the wild, set in their ways and having a harder time adjusting to a zoo based diet.  In many zoos, the keeper superstition arose that the snakes would only eat live prey - but the problem is that if you put a live prey animal in with a snake, and the snake isn't hungry, sometimes the prey animal will actually harm the snake (especially if it's a bitey rodent).  

So, many zoos resorted to the nuclear option - force feeding.  This had the disadvantage of being dangerous not only to the snakes, but, in the case of larger or venomous species, the keepers.

Consider this account from Peter Brazaitis in his memoir of the Bronx Zoo, You Belong In A Zoo!

" We once had a seventeen-foot-long anaconda that refused to feed on anything we offered it... it held to its fast for nearly a year.  While it was a giant in length, its emaciated body was little more than skin and bones.  Finally we decided that the poor beast had to be force-fed, something we were were reluctant to do for fear of damaging the snake's mouth in the process and, because of its already debilitated state, having it develop an infection.  The snake was sure not to cooperate."

With reinforcements from other departments, keepers managed to grab the thin but still-mighty snake and stretch it out.  Brazaitis was given the job of inserting the food into the snake's mouth with a pair of forceps.

"As I pressed the dead rat to the snake's lips, the snake suddenly opened its jaws wide and lunged forward, carrying with it the army of surprised keepers who held on to its body.  In and down went the rat, followed by the forceps and y hand.  The jaws closed, imbedding dozens of its three-quarter-inch-long teeth into the top and bottom of my hand."

Indian rock python "Diablo" being fed with a sausage stuffer at the San Diego Zoo (San Diego Union-Tribune)

By the time Brazaitis retrieved his hand from the snake's mouth, he described it as looking like a cancelled check, full of little punched holes.   None of my force-feed experiences have been this dramatic, but most have equally been fiascos.

Zoos tried all sorts of tricks to improve force-feeding, from tying several prey items in a row to induce one "mega feed" to even using sausage stuffers to feed the snakes held by keepers.  While force-feeding is still used on occasion with particularly difficult feeders, it's generally only an emergency occurrence (and the increasing availability of captive-bred snakes means that more snakes are accustomed to life in a zoo and feed better as a result).

What's really made the difference for most animals, I suspect, is habitats that better resemble the wild, both in terms of furnishings and climatic variables, as well as keeper patience and empathy - trying to figure out what will make a snake want to eat on its own, rather than seeing a recalcitrant snake as a challenge to be beaten.

Zoo History: Speak Softly and Carry a Big Snake

Few, if any, US Presidents could boast a more action-filled life than Theodore Roosevelt, both during office and in his years as a private citizen.  Among Roosevelt's many accomplishments, both in statesmanship, sport, and warfare, his contributions as a naturalist and conservationist are often overlooked.  And yet it was Roosevelt who established the first National Wildlife Refuge, who co-led a scientific expedition down a previously-uncharted tributary of the Amazon, and who was a recognized expert on wildlife.  It was also Roosevelt who played a key role in the formation of the New York Zoological Society, which we today call the Wildlife Conservation Society, and the opening of its flagship institution, the Bronx Zoo.

Roosevelt was a competitive man, both in and out of office, and always strove to have things be the most superlative - the biggest, the best, etc - and to this end, he posed a challenge for the young zoo.  Roosevelt would put up $1000 - more than a car cost, back in the day - for anyone who could provide the Bronx Zoo with a snake that measured over 30 feet long.  In 1912, reports came of a 33-foot python that was killed in Indonesia, but it was never confirmed.  Dead snakes make poor evidence, in many cases - snakeskin is quite stretchy, and so a skin can't be used to accurately estimate the size of the animal in life.  Over the years, the reward crept upwards - inflation, am I right? - until it peaked at $50,000 in 1980.  Yet despite all of that temptation, a snake that met Roosevelt's criteria was never found.  

But some came close.

It seemed like a champion might have been found in 1992, when an Indonesian leather company reached out to the Bronx after having captured a reticulated python that they said fit the bill.  The snake had been a long-time resident of a village in Borneo, but after a series raids into local chicken coops, the townspeople decided that it was time to part ways with their hungry neighbor.  The reticulated python of Southeast Asia is generally considered to be the longest snake on earth; green anacondas, from South America, tend to be much bulkier and heavier, but do not grow as long.  In those pre-internet days, communication between the zoo and company was slow and uncertain, but the snake was eventually boxed up and shipped to New York.  At the zoo, the python, named Samantha, was uncrated and measured (measuring a large snake is a tricky business, as snakes are not inclined to stretch out in a straight line).  And the result was... 21 feet, 175 pounds (an anaconda of that length would have weighed several times as much).  A big snake - about tied for the biggest I've ever seen in my life - but not 30 feet, by a long shot.

Still, Samantha was now in the Bronx, and it wasn't like they were going to send her back to Borneo.  For the next 10 years, the python continued her residence in the Big Apple... and she continued to grow during that time.  At the time of her death in November 2002, she had put on 100 pounds, as well as 5 feet, topping off at 26 feet long.  A very impressive snake, by any definition - but one that was still less than 90% of what Theodore Roosevelt's gold standard was.  Her obituary ran in the New York Times.

That same year, the Bronx Zoo officially rescinded its reward for a giant snake.  Reticulated pythons and other large constrictors have been heavily hunted for years for their hides, with the biggest snakes being the most sought after.  With their deaths, their genes for bigness likely went with them.  That makes it all the more unlikely that a truly giant python or boa is out there - but it's nice to think that, in a corner of the world somewhere far off the beaten path, a real giant still lives, unnoticed and unmolested.

Sporcle Quiz: Sporcle at the Zoo - Reticulated Python

Let's celebrate the Year of the Snake with our newest Sporcle Quiz, Sporcle at the Zoo: Reticulated Python!  See how much you know about the world's longest snake, a perennial favorite of zoo visitors!

Nice to Meet You, Tula-Tu

Perhaps given the nature of current events, it's not entirely surprising that this blog has gotten a bit dour lately.  So, while not ceding the ground on the good work still to be done, let's take a step back and admire this adorable newborn Asian elephant from the Oregon Zoo

 

Lead, Follow, or Out of the Way

Talk about a St. Valentine's Day Massacre...

Last week saw the mass-layoffs of thousands of federal employees.  While the cuts took place across departments, it seems like the agency that I kept seeing highlighted most often in my newsfeed was the National Parks Service.  Perhaps this is partly because I like/follow a lot of National Parks, as do my friends, who share the content, so the algorithm worked that way.  Perhaps it was also because the Parks, being some of our most beloved American institutions, are of great interest to the public, and the sacking of dedicated public servants that care for them is the most upsetting to the average social media user.

One post, shared by a friend of mine, was written by a young woman who was one of many of her colleagues suddenly fired from the US Fish and Wildlife Service, where she had worked at one of the Hawaiian refuges.  Specifically, she and her colleagues had worked with habitat restoration, trying to protect the vanishing endemic birds of Hawaii.  For her, this wasn't just a profession, but also a cause, a labor of love, and I was very sorry to hear about her loss.  I was equally sorry to hear about the impact that it might have on those endangered birds... which got me thinking.

Right now, the US Government, through the USFWS, maintains ownership of a large number of endangered native species held by zoos and aquariums.  Bald and golden eagles are the most prominent examples, but a host of other species, especially those associated with reintroduction programs, are owned by the government.  My suggestion?  Ok, Secretary Burgum - your department has decided it doesn't really care anymore?  Fine.  Relinquish ownership of all captive wildlife held by zoos and aquariums to those zoos.  

No more having to get the Fed's permission to move animals.  No more tedious annual reports that there will be no one left to read, because everyone's being fired.  No more restrictions of partnerships between AZA and non-AZA facilities.  We can keep up the idea of sending eagle feathers and body parts to Native American nations for use in cultural regalia, but no reason we need to have you involved in that.

If DOI isn't interested in saving species, at least have the courtesy to get out of the way.

Zoo Review: Buffalo Zoo, Part II

 Continuing our tour of the Buffalo Zoo, we come to exhibits of two of the largest resident species.  Just down the path from the Main Animal Building, at the end of the row of hoofstock yards described yesterday, is a large, grassy field for Indian one-horned rhinos.  Past that is a paddock for giraffes, with an attached barn that allows visitors to view the animals indoors - giraffes are notoriously ill-suited to walking on snowy or muddy ground which, I imagine, is a lot of the year in Buffalo.  I've frequently felt that it would behoove many northern zoos to invest more space in their indoor giraffe quarters, considering how much of the year that the animals often spend in them, and Buffalo is certainly a good example of that.  I'd have liked to have seen the animals outdoors to get a better appreciation of their habitat as well, but it was a gray, drizzly day when I visited.

The oldest remaining structure of the Zoo is the former elephant house, built in 1912.  It's a lovely piece of architecture, but one which is wholly unsuited for house elephants these days, and Buffalo phased out its Asian elephants about 7 years ago.  At the time of my visit, the exhibit was home to a black rhinoceros, which, being much smaller and solitary, is a better fit for the space, but I don't know if this is the long-term plan for the space.  I would have liked to have had the chance to go inside to glean what historical impressions I could have gotten from the building, but it doesn't appear to be public accessible.

Other features of the "older" zoo are a mountain for bighorn sheep (a fairly unattractive structure, to be honest, especially if compared to the beautiful mountain habitats in many western zoos.  Concrete moated islands for wild sheep and goats such as this used to be very common features in American zoos, but are seldom encountered these days), a paddock of deer, a small outdoor walk-through aviary, a goat corral, and an exhibit of cinereous vultures.  Which then leads us to the newer additions to the zoo.

At the turn of the millennium, Buffalo Zoo unveiled an ambitious new masterplan.  As is often the case with zoo masterplans, the entire program was not completed, but several were, to the great improvement of the campus.  Immediately inside the entrance are a pair of new habitats for two popular aquatic mammals, Sea Lion Cove, for California sea lions, and Otter Creek, for North American river otters.  I was especially impressed by the later - too often, otter exhibits focus so much on the aquatic component that they neglect land area, but this was one of the better river otter exhibits I've seen.

Nearby is the new (2015) and rather good Arctic Edge.  There are side habitats for Canada lynx, bald eagle, and arctic fox. but the stars, of course, are the polar bears.  The bears have habitats with grass and dirt, no just the concrete-disguised-as-ice that is too typical of polar bear exhibits, as well as pools with underwater viewing.  An especially unique feature of the exhibit is the impressive interpretive center, where visitors can learn about climate change and its impact on polar habitats, as well as what they can do to help lessen their carbon footprint.  Most attention, however, will probably be drawn to the giant mounted specimen of polar bear in the middle of the room, which allows visitors to truly appreciate just how giant the bears can be.

Indoor rainforest buildings are a popular feature of many zoos located in cold, gray places, and Buffalo is no exception.  M&T Bank Rainforest Falls is perhaps the flagship exhibit of the masterplan, focusing on the wildlife of Latin America.  Most of the exhibit consists of a large free-flight aviary, featuring birds such as scarlet ibis and roseate spoonbill, which fly over a water feature filled with stingrays and other Amazonian fish, while capybaras loaf on the shoreline.  Ocelot, giant anteater, and various South American monkeys are found in mesh-enclosed habitats that line with walls, while a small cave-like area towards the rear of the building features vampire bats, turtles, and an exhibit of green anaconda with underwater viewing.  There is also an elevated viewing deck which provides opportunities to view the birds and primates at canopy level.  I'll admit that I often find these indoor rainforest buildings somewhat underwhelming, with the exception of a few truly breathtaking examples I've seen, but it's a solid addition to the Zoo and indoor exhibits are always a good investment in Buffalo.

My recent visit was the first time I'd been to Buffalo is 15 years - the otter, sea lion, and polar bear exhibits, to say nothing of the rainforest - were all completely new to me.  Buffalo Zoo is a facility where the divide between the old and new is still very much apparent, with the newer exhibits perhaps making the older ones appear that much starker and more antiquated.  I'd love to see the Zoo resume the exciting trend of construction and renovation that it showed during the earlier years of the 2000s, with the gorillas being a priority, the giraffes perhaps a runner-up.  In may be that the size of the campus and climate of the region force the re-evaluation of some species, but if some species have to go, there are other, perhaps better-fitted candidates that could be brought in.  Many of their newer exhibits show innovation and good planning, and I certainly admire Arctic Edge's willingness to tackle the thorny subject of climate change head-on.  With the right resources and support, I'm sure Buffalo could achieve some wonderful things with its zoo.

Zoo Review: Buffalo Zoo, Part I

The Buffalo Zoo is one of three northeastern zoos - the others being Roger Williams Park, in Providence, RI, and the Maryland Zoo in Baltimore - that frequently makes the claim of being America's Third Oldest Zoo.  Located in Delaware Park, it is a compact facility of hardly more than 20 acres, which still manages to fit a surprisingly large number of large animals onto the campus.  Like many American zoos, it had a history of a small collection of mostly unwanted pets and local wildlife until becoming the beneficiary of funds and construction from the WPA in the 1930s and 1940s.  At about that time, the Zoo also promoted reptile keeper, then curator, Marlin Perkins to the directorship.  Perkins, who would later go on to host Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, lead the zoo to increased growth and success.  

Today, the zoo boasts of a large, diverse collection spread across exhibits of varying quality, from the modern to the archaic.  Perhaps the most valuable asset the Zoo can boast of is its location.  It is only a few miles away from the world famous Niagara Falls, and is able to benefit from tourism drawn to that spectacular natural feature.

At the far end of the zoo from the main entrance is one massive building, which curves along the perimeter of the Zoo.  Dating back to the WPA, the structure, once simply called "The Main Animal Building" houses not only the administrative offices, as well as a cafe, but many of the most iconic animals in the collection.  At one extreme of the building is one of Buffalo's weak points, the gorilla exhibit.  This is one of the last all-indoor gorilla exhibits in North America, and having seen many excellent gorilla exhibits elsewhere, one can understand why the trend has been to move away from this.  The world's largest primates are in a grim, cave-like exhibit, all fake rockwork and glass panels.  It comes nowhere close to being the worst primate exhibit I've ever seen, but I'd be very surprised if the Zoo leadership itself was happy with it anymore, and if there weren't plans for a different future for it.  The gorilla exhibit is joined by habitats for meerkats, naked mole rats, and a few fish and herps, which the Zoo has attempted to tie together thematically as "Diversity of Life."

At the other extreme of the U-shaped Main Animal Building is one of the stronger part of the collection, the reptile house.  When the first reptile house opened in 1942, Perkins declared it the finest in America.  It may since have been overshadowed by a few other facilities (or many facilities, as it may be), but it's still quite a good one, with large, attractive, well-planted, well-designed habitats for a variety of reptiles and amphibians.  The lack of a crocodilian exhibit makes it hard for me to rank this among my favorites, but Komodo dragons are quite suitable as an anchor species (I always enjoy seeing Komodos with outdoor exhibit access, but for a zoo with a local climate like Buffalo's, I can appreciate that it wouldn't be worth the investment of space).  Other notable animals in the gallery include reticulated python, king cobra, bushmaster, matamata (perhaps the first time I ever saw a member of this notably sedentary turtle species actually swimming), and that ever-popular staple of northeastern herp collections, the hellbender.

At the center of the curving Main Animal Building are grottos for the world's largest cat species, lions and tigers.  The cats are visible both across moats or through glass windows.  The yards are respectable, grassy and rocky with some varied terrain, if not being the most exciting I've seen.  Back inside the Main Animal Building, linking the gorilla side and the reptile side, is the EcoStation, which is essentially a modest all-purpose small animal house featuring a few mixed species habitats depicting ecosystems around the world.  Featured here are animals such as sand cat, Brazilian agouti, and laughing kookaburra.

On the outside of the "U" are more outdoor habitats for mid-sized species.  A row of mesh-enclosed habitats feature ring-tailed lemur, red panda, snow leopard, and Japanese macaque.  Like the EcoStation and the Diversity of Life, there's an attempt to group these habitats by lumping them together as Vanishing Animals, but there's not much there to tie them.  This area also contains a row of open yards, mostly featuring hoofstock, such as zebra and roan antelope, but terminating in a fairly nice habitat for spotted hyenas.  As one would expect from the BUFFALO Zoo, there is also a habitat for that species that most visitors would call buffalo, the American bison.

Tomorrow, we'll work our way back towards the entrance of the Buffalo Zoo, including a visit of some of the newer exhibits that the facility has added since the millennium. 

Buffalo Zoo