Kicking of 2025 with the next entry in the Sporcle at the Zoo series, this time focused on one of the most cosmopolitan, intelligent, and adaptable species in the world, the northern, or common, raven!
Sporcle at the Zoo - Northern Raven
Insights into the World of Zoos and Aquariums
Kicking of 2025 with the next entry in the Sporcle at the Zoo series, this time focused on one of the most cosmopolitan, intelligent, and adaptable species in the world, the northern, or common, raven!
Sporcle at the Zoo - Northern Raven
I confess that I am utterly, 100% tired of hearing about fire alarms. Not tired of *hearing* fire alarms - though I suspect that would get pretty old, pretty fast if they were going off all the time. But hearing *about* them. It seems like our zoo has been getting fire alarms installed since... well, since the invention of fire. Every day we have contractors going around working on the project, which has been lasting for years. I have no idea when it will be over. I have no idea if it will ever be over
Not particularly wanting to die in a fire myself - and certainly not wanting any of the animals to go up in flames, should one break out after hours, I can certainly appreciate the importance of the project, even if I had no idea that it was so... involved. I suppose on some level I'm impatient for it to get finished so that we can move on to other projects, projects which I freely admit hold a lot more interest to me. Upgrading behind-the-scenes animal facilities. Exhibit renovations. Building new exhibits so we can bring new species in to the zoo! Pretty much, anything that directly pertains to the animals.
It's exhausting - but inescapable - how much of the work that goes on at the zoo - how much of the time and money and labor spent - goes towards things that are not directly related to animals, but are instead part of the nebulous infrastructure. In the end, all of it benefits the animals by improving the safety of the facility and our ability to care for them, but it's hard to get past the basic impatience with it and want to move on to the more fun, interesting projects. Nor is the feeling exclusive to the staff. It's not that hard, at the end of the day, to raise money for a new exhibit for a cool, exciting new animal... but what your zoo might really need is to get some work done on your sewer lines, or needed electrical work, or maybe repave your paths so you don't have potholes that swallow wheelchairs, golf carts, and anything else that goes down them. All important work, but less likely to attract the attention of a deep-pocketed donor.
After all, most donors want something that their name can be slapped on in gilded letters. An aquarium? A rainforest building? A savanna? Great! A compost facility? Less appealing. Trenchwork? Even less so.
Much like the staff, a lot of the work that goes on at zoo takes place quietly behind the scenes. Some of it unglamorous. Some of it, quite frankly, is boring. All of it is necessary, because all of it, in one shape or another, contributes to maintaining the zoo and supporting its mission.
Birdwatching is one of my main hobbies, but I give hummingbirds relatively little thought. In my part of the country, there's generally only one species - the ruby-throated hummingbird - so if a hummingbird zips by, I know what it was. When I'm traveling to a part of the world with a greater diversity of hummingbirds (so, almost anywhere else in the New World), sightings are usually so fast and so short that I don't have much of a chance to see it, let alone tell what it was.
Normally, I appreciate the opportunity to enjoy studying and observing birds in zoos and aviaries, but here again, hummers pose a challenge. I don't think there's any group of birds with a great contrast between the number of species in the wild and how few are represented in zoos. I think I can count on how hand how many facilities I've seen hummingbirds in (and in two of those facilities, I encountered the birds in off-exhibit spaces).
What gives? Well, hummingbirds pose a number of challenges. For a bird which can be difficult to observe and breed, that might make some aviculturalists wonder if they're worth the trouble. They are very small and delicate. They have super fast metabolism and require constant feeding - that makes the fact of capture and transport difficult, which has historically made them a challenge to send far from their range. They're very active and require larger habitats than one might expect for a bird of their size.
They're also surprisingly aggressive - I remember years ago reading a quote from a biologist who said that if hummingbirds were the size of crows, it would be too dangerous for us to walk in a meadow. That makes it all the more challenging to keep groups together, as the territorial birds were jealously see each other off of their favorite feeders (a pretty large number of my wild sightings of hummingbirds have consisted of one chasing another). When I most recently visited the San Diego Zoo and saw their new hummingbird house, I was surprised (but maybe only a little) that the vast majority of the birds that I met in the exhibit weren't hummingbirds.
Some zoos have luck with the family. One of the coolest walk-through aviaries I ever saw was the outdoor hummingbird aviary at the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum, home to several native species in conditions that were essentially identical to the wild just outside. For zoos that don't have the resources, skill, or (and this is okay) interest in dealing with some of the most charismatic yet frustrating birds to manage in captivity, there's another solution - just put a feeder or two in a public area. Let them come to you.
"Yet I could not escape the feeling that these efforts were papering over the cracks that were appearing across the continents in which the hummingbirds were found. They were indeed, I realized now, the most beautiful canary in the coalmine."
The distribution of birds in zoos and aviaries is an uneven one. Some groups, especially those that are most closely related to our domestic birds with well-understood, easily satisfied husbandry, are very well represented. Waterfowl, for example, as well as pheasants. I've cared for several species of each, and have seen many of the remaining species in one collection or another. Other birds remain far more elusive, far more difficult to manage. Perhaps the birds I've thought of the most in this way have been the world's smallest birds, the hummingbirds.
The interest is hardly mine alone, either. For as long as people have seen hummingbirds, they've been fascinated by them - their speed, their perpetual motion, their tiny size. At times, they seem less like birds, than they do largish insects, or perhaps even very elaborate pieces of clockwork. The Glitter in the Green: In Search of Hummingbirds is Joe Dunn's account of traveling the length and breadth of North and South America in search of hummers. I would've expected the book to open by telling us how Dunn grew up watching hummingbirds in his garden, or found and nursed a wounded hummer as a kid, or some such story. Instead, I was surprised to learn that he was from the decidedly hummingbird-free UK. Given the difficulties in maintaining hummingbirds in zoos, his first exposure to the little birds would not have been live animals, but as pinned specimens in the cabinet of a natural history museum, like little feathered jewels.
Dunn makes no claim that he is going to show the readers all - or even a majority - of the world's 366 or so species of Trochilidae. Instead, he focuses his book on the superlatives, birds that stand out as exceptionally unique even in the midst of such a strange family. An obvious candidate, for example, is Cuba's bee hummingbird, the smallest of birds (though Dunn tells us that this diminutive title is contested). He also bookends his work with the northernmost and southernmost of hummingbirds; I'll have to admit, I'd never even considered that Alaska would be a place where one could conceivably find these little guys! He even takes us on a quest in "search" (through history, as well as geography) of a hummingbird which never even existed, a fabrication of an era when new species were being described left and right, not always with the most accuracy.
As always when I read books like Dunn's, I'm equally entertained by the peppering of historical and geographical information in with the zoology. One of the most interesting chapters takes the reader to desolate islands off the coast of Chile, home not only to hummingbirds, but, centuries ago, to a castaway whose story was the inspiration for Robinson Crusoe. A few diversions aside, however, Dunn keeps his focus on his pint-sized avian protagonists. And, as with every modern natural history book out there, in the background is the looming specter of endangerment brought about by human actions. There's loss of habitat, there are invasive species, and there is an unsustainable demand for the bodies of these little birds, as Dunn shows us as he tours a Latin American marketplace and sees hummingbirds for sale. Fortunately for the reader, there are also plenty of people that we meet who are determined to do their part to save the little birds, and their stories inspire hope for the future of hummers.
Hummingbirds are birds that have always frustrated me on some level. They are so tiny and so fast that whenever I see them, in the wild or (less frequently) in a zoo, I feel like I can barely register them as they zip by, sometimes hovering for a few seconds to offer me the quickest of views. Perhaps because of this, I was all the more appreciative of a chance to sit down with a good book about the family so I could appreciate them at a more leisurely, less hummingbird-like pace.
The Glitter in the Green: In Search of Hummingbirds at Amazon.com