The End of an Orca Era

When I was little, my parents took the family on a trip to Walt Disney World.  This was before Animal Kingdom opened, so I was only partially impressed on the whole Mickey Mouse deal (especially once I realized that the animals on the Jungle River Cruise were fake).  The part of that trip that I remember the most?  Our first day in Orlando, when we visited SeaWorld Florida.

It was there that I saw orcas for the first time in my life.  The second time I saw them was at SeaWorld California.

Unless I go whale watching in the Pacific Northwest (which I would very much like to do), I don't think I'll be seeing orcas again for a while.  I'm tentatively planning a trip to San Antonio, not only for their excellent zoo, which I've heard so much about but never seen, but also for the third and final SeaWorld.

The days of orcas in American marine parks are drawing to a close following the announcement of SeaWorld that it would end its orca breeding program.  It's probably not fair, however, to lay all the blame (or credit, depending on where you stand) on Blackfish.  The writing has probably been on the tank walls for a while.

Shortly after SeaWorld made it's decision, I heard a colleague scoff that people paid so much attention to the supposed hardships of the tiny handful of orcas in SeaWorld's care versus the plight of wild populations, some of which are in dire straits.  That's when it hit me.  SeaWorld has almost all of the orcas in the United States... which still isn't that many.  Many of these animals are related to one another.  Orcas breed slowly, and infant mortality has always been a problem.  The prospect of obtaining more from the wild is highly unlikely, largely due to the Marine Mammal Protection Act, which limits take on cetaceans and other marine mammals (contrary to popular opinion, SeaWorld does not take orcas from the wild these days and has nothing to do with the infamous dolphin drives in Japan).

The result?  If orcas were a managed Species Survival Plan under the auspices of the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, population managers would already be starting to write them off.  Without some major changes, that population doesn't seem like it could go on for that much longer - a few more generations, perhaps, but even that I wonder about.

Even if the breeding ban is reversed, as some zookeepers hope new management will do, I don't know how much of a future there is for SeaWorld's orcas, which is (apologies to Miami Seaquarium), pretty much saying all the orcas in the USA.  Which means I better make that trip to San Antonio a little sooner than later.

Zoo History: Before There Was Shamu...

"Orcas (the appearance of which no image can express, other than an enormous mass of savage flesh with teeth) are the enemy of [other whales]...  They charge and pierce them like warships ramming."

- Pliny the Elder

"Millions around the world simply knew in their hearts that orcas had to be saved from captivity.  What they didn't realize was that, decades earlier, captivity may have saved the world's orcas."

- Jason M. Colby, Orca: How We Came to Know and Love the Ocean's Greatest Predator

Any discussion of cetaceans living under human care inevitably circles back to the elephant (or, in this case, whale) in the room - Blackfish, the documentary/propaganda piece (depending on where you are standing) that has resulted in widespread criticism of SeaWorld and its practices of keeping and displaying orcas. Those who oppose the park emotionally cite the intelligence and majesty and family life of the orca, claiming that no marine park can provide these animals with the care that they need.  Which is ironic, really... because until SeaWorld and other marine parks came along, the public perception of the orca was very different.

Our history with Orcinus orca extends far past the opening of the first SeaWorld, and it was not a mutually beneficial one.  A lot of people know that the alternative name for this species is "killer whale", but fewer know that it was originally "whale killer."  Orcas were despised as ravenous killing machines that would slaughter any animal in their path, often cruelly and bloodily.  They were accused on attacks on humans (albeit with poor documentation), including one case where a pod tried to tip an ice floe and spill some sled dogs into the sea.  More damningly, they were accused of harming fishermen by "stealing" their catches and were persecuted accordingly.  The persecution of killer whales wasn't just tolerated by the governments of North America and northern Europe - it was actively abated.  The US Navy waged war against the whales, killing them with machine guns and depth charges.

So low was the public opinion of the orca that, when the Vancouver Aquarium commissioned a hunter to kill a wild orca to turn into an educational biofact back in 1964, no one objected.  A sculptor named Samuel Burich set off in pursuit of an orca to use as a model, eventually harpooning one.  The plan changed when the orca opted not to die.

Vancouver Aquarium's Vince Penfold records Moby Doll's vocalizations in 1964 (Vancouver Aquarium)

After consulting with the aquarium's founder and director, Murray Newman, Burich brought the whale back to Vancouver.  It failed to thrive, especially at first.  Part of this was a result of the trauma and stress it had just endured.  Part of it was that no one knew even the basics of how to care for an orca in an aquarium.  It took months just to get the animal - a fifteen foot male - to eat.  At the time, it was assumed that orcas only took warm-blooded prey, such as whales and seals, whereas many of the pods off the Pacific northwest feed on fishes.  Eventually, the whale began to feed.  His keepers dubbed him (originally believed to be a "her") Moby Doll.

Moby was only the second orca ever kept under human care, and the first - a female named "Wanda" lived for only a single day.  Everyone assumed that Moby would be a monster.  They envisioned him lunging and keepers and trying to drag them to a watery death.  They were wrong.  Instead, the whale proved to be gentle (especially considering what it had been through) and receptive to the attentions of its caretakers.  His stint at the aquarium provided scientists with some of the first up-close observations of an orca.

Gradually, Moby became famous and visitors from far and wide flocked for a visit.  That, in turn, generated some of the first ever positive press for one of the ocean's most hated animals.  The chance to see an orca up close and personal (in an admittedly unsuitable environment) changed people's impressions about the animal, especially when they saw that they are not inherently vicious or "evil" creatures.

Moby Doll lived only for a few months, but the public fascination with orcas began.  Soon, several collecting crews were out catching orcas for marine parks around the world.  Eventually, this resulted in lifespans of several decades being achieved, as well as the first ever captive-breeding of the species.  Scientists from around the globe have studied these orcas to obtain data that has been applied to the conservation of wild populations.  It's doubtful that the money and passion for saving wild orcas would have come to fruition at all if public attitudes about the species had not changed, largely on account of Moby Doll... as well as the whale that came after him.

In 1965, the Seattle Marine Aquarium obtained a male orca named "Namu," named for the town of British Columbia near where his capture occurred.  Unlike Moby, his capture was deliberate for an aquarium exhibit, and as such he was in much better physical condition when he arrived in Seattle.  Shortly afterwards, a female orca was obtained as a companion.  She was given a name in a First Nations language that translated as "Friend of Namu" - "Shamu."

The two whales ended up not being compatible, so she was later leased to another marine park, this one in San Diego, California.  That park is called SeaWorld.

From the News: Dolphin abandoned in Japanese aquarium

Abandoned animals at Japanese aquarium spark public outcry

I'd be fascinated to hear more from any Japanese zoo and aquarium professionals about what the story here is.  The idea of an entire aquarium being abandoned, animals and all, just strikes me as unbelievable, especially in a country as prosperous as Japan.

Honey, a bottle-nose dolphin, at the abandoned Inubosaki Marine Park Aquarium in Choshi, Japan (Reuters)

The Bathtub Bash

One final rant on the subject of whales and dolphins under human care... the bathtub bash.  It is impossible to read any commentary on cetaceans in aquariums without someone howling about how they are living "in bathtubs."

I took a lot of creative writing classes when I was in school, and two phrases come to my mind every single time I read that.  One, "Avoid cliches like the plague."  Two, "Hyperbole is a billion times worse than understatement."

They aren't bathtubs.  Can you swim in your bathtub, because I can barely fit in mine, hence why I don't take baths.  Can you swim with several of your friends in your bathtub, because even if the thought of asking some of mine to join me wouldn't be profoundly uncomfortable in the extreme, that wouldn't work.  Also, can you and your friends swim in your bathtub to the degree where you can get out of sight of one another?  Because if you can, I'd say I want your bathtub, except that it would be bigger than my entire apartment.

Show some originality, at least...

The Tricks of the Trade

Whales and dolphins are easily the most controversial animals to be maintained under human care.  Earlier this month, I mused that it might have to do with their relatively barren-looking habitats in aquariums.  Upon further reflection, another possibility has come to mind.

It's the shows.

Read any commentary protesting the keeping of cetaceans in oceanariums and you are bound to find lots of people outraged about the thought of these powerful, intelligent animals doing "tricks" for our amusement.  In our (recent) cultural imagination, there are lots of images of dolphins jumping through hoops or balancing balls on their noses.  SeaWorld was put on the map by the Shamu shows.  Despite its anti-captivity messaging, Free Willy, the most popular orca in pop culture, was only made possible because of a highly-trained killer whale that could act on cue.

Historically, the pendulum of education vs entertainment at zoos and aquariums was swung far more to the former, and not just with cetaceans.  In the old days, you could see tea parties with chimpanzees, dancing elephants, and other examples of the blurring of the lines between zoos and circuses.  Marine parks just took that to a further extreme.  Add in the carnival-like atmosphere of SeaWorld, the rock music accompanying shows, and the theatricality of the programs, and you could see what might leave a bad taste in the mouths of some people.

Today, the comedic/sensation shows are being phased out, but training demonstrations continue.  I could easily understand how some people might confuse the two - animals are performing trained behaviors while people watch.  To feel that the later "shows" are being done solely (or even mainly) for the amusement of visitors, however, would be incorrect.

Marine mammals pose special husbandry challenges.  The spend most of their lives completely submerged.  They are big and strong.  In the water, they are in their element and can swim endless loops around their keepers... or a vet.  If proper medical care is to be given to them - whether for routine physical exams and preventative care or as a response to illness or injury - keepers need to be able to examine them closely and apply treatment.  For this to be at all feasible, it requires the dolphins or whales to have a working relationship with their caretakers that allows parts of their bodies to be presented.

At the same time, cetaceans are extremely intelligent animals, as well as (for the most part) highly social.  They benefit from the stimulation and diversion that training provides, as well as the interaction with their caretakers.  Training encourages physical exercise as well as mental.

If SeaWorld was to keep orcas forever but never be open to the public, the routine for the animals probably would continue unchanged.  If there was one takeaway that I wish visitors who saw whale or dolphin training demonstrations realized, it's that the training isn't for the benefit of the visitor.  It's for the animal.  

From the News: Florida Sea World takes in manatees

The world is a white hot mess right about now.  It seems like every corner of the globe is currently being affected by one tragedy or another, whether geopolitical or climatic.  I had originally planned to type "man-made or natural", but these days the line between the two seems to be increasingly blurred.  Among the hazards our own country is currently dealing with is the deadly red tide plaguing the Gulf of Mexico.  Countless marine animals have been killed as a result, including several specimens of Florida's favorite aquatic zeppelin, the manatee.

The West Indian manatee is a massive beast with very specialized (read: expensive) care requirements.  As a result, only a select few institutions can provide rehabilitation care for them - when I visited Clearwater Marine Aquarium, I was told that, even in their newly expanded facility, they would be unable to accommodate manatees.  Among those that can take in manatees are a handful of zoos and aquariums - including SeaWorld.

As it happens, SeaWorld has currently treated a dozen manatees, some of which have succombed to the red tide, others are recovering to varying degrees.  To me, this exemplifies the best of zoos and aquariums.  There is no profit in taking in rehab manatees and nursing them back to health.  It represents an enormous expense, designated facilities, and a tremendous drain on staff time and resources.  It also happens to be the right thing to do, and one that almost no one else is in a position to help with.

Twelve manatees (and assorted sea turtles and other marine animals) may seem like a drop in the Gulf of Mexico when you consider the losses being suffered across the region.  For those twelve manatees, however, it means the actual world.  Any effort to successfully save these harmless, lovable sea cows and return them to the wild is to be congratulated and celebrated.  I would hope that even SeaWorld's harshest critics would be able to appreciate this job well done.

Photo Credit: SeaWorld Orlando

Species Fact Profile: Pale-Faced Saki Monkey (Pithecia pithecia)

Pale-Faced (White-Faced) Saki Monkey

Pithecia pithecia (Linnaeus, 1766)

Range: Northeastern South America (Between Caroni and Orinoco Rivers)
Habitat: Rainforest
Diet: Seeds, Fruits, Leaves, Flowers
Social Grouping: Pairs or Small Groups up to 6 (Breeding Pair and Offspring)
Reproduction: Monogamous.  Sexually mature at 32 months old.  Gestation period 146 days.  Usually 1 offspring at a time.  Siblings from previous years may assist with care of infants.  Infants stay on their mothers for five months, first on the thigh, then onto the back
Lifespan: 15 Years
Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern, CITES Appendix II

• Body weight 2.35 kilogram average for males 1.75 kilograms for females
• Sexually dimorphic.  Males are glossy black with a white face and dark snout.  Females and newborns are brown with a black face and white stripe along the nose.  Young males obtain adult coloration at 3.5-4 years old
• Home ranges consist of about 10 hectares, moving about 1 kilometer a day.  Territories are marked with scent glands, urine, and territorial calls.  Individuals will shake branches and grunt to intimidate intruders
• Predators include jaguars, ocelots, tayras, harpy eagles, and large snakes.  Different alarm calls are used for different predators.  Troops will mob snakes
• Almost entirely arboreal.  Move on all fours through the branches, capable of flying leaps of up to 30 feet (nicknamed "flying jack" in some parts of South America)
• A former subspecies, the golden-faced saki has now been elevated to full-species status (P. chrysocephala)
• Hunted locally for meat and for the pet trade

The Rescue Paradox

Even before my visit to the Clearwater Marine Aquarium, I was aware that plans were in the works for a relocation to a new facility.  I'm very glad to hear it, and hope that it works out for the best, because truth be told, the enclosures at CMA were a little... mediocre. 

I'm not holding it against them - they aren't a big city aquarium with a huge budget.  They are a working rescue aquarium, trying to release as many animals as possible and provide the best possible care to those that remain.  The animals that they house have no other real options.  It was this or death.  And I saw that this message resonated very clearly throughout the facility.  As visitors walked past the displays, looking at kink-tailed dolphins or flipper-less sea turtles, you could sense their... satisfaction, for lack of a better word.  By buying a ticket to the Aquarium, they knew that they were helping care for these rescued animals.

I've worked with quite a few rescues myself...  bald eagles that lost their ability to fly after colliding with power lines or getting shot.  Deer that were raised by well-meaning but misguided folks who saw a fawn crouching in the grass, jumped to the conclusion that it had been abandoned, and took it home.  Orphaned bobcat kittens and river otter pups and fox kits.  An entire aviary's worth of blind and/or crippled owls and hawks.  Turtles that lost fights with car tires and still managed to crawl away.

Some of these animals have settled in quietly and easily to life under human care - especially those that were orphaned or were otherwise very young when they had to be taken from the wild.  Those that were rescued as adults, on the other hand - they tend to be extremely shy, borderline terrified every single time I enter the enclosure.  Our bald eagle, for instance - we haven't tried to kill her any of the 5,000 times we've cleaned her enclosure since she arrived, but I suspect she thinks we're just bidding our time until her guard is down.  If she'd been a zoo-born eagle of a closely related species, say a Steller's sea eagle, she'd probably be eating out of our hands (which, considering how big a female Steller's sea eagle is, would probably end poorly for me rather than for her).

Still, when visitors see our eagle running in terror from us, they act concerned - until we mention the story of her rescue, and then suddenly we're all a bunch of heroes for taking her in when she had no place else to go.

It was during one of these conversations that I settled upon what I call the Zoo Rescue Paradox -

"The animals that zoo visitors feel the least conflict about seeing in a zoo are those that were injured and rescued from the wild, although these animals typically thrive less in a zoo than animals that were born under human care."

I've heard some folks go so far as to say that these should be the only animals in zoo or aquarium settings.

Take Winter the dolphin, for example, star of the movie Dolphin Tale and celebrity of the Clearwater Marine Aquarium.  She lives in what, if we're being honest, is a rather small, dull tank.  Compare it to the enclosure that the Atlantic bottlenose dolphins have at the National Aquarium in Baltimore (at least for now) or that the Pacific white-sided dolphins and beluga whales have at the Shedd Aquarium and there is no contest as to which is better.  But because Winter is a rescue, people who would criticize the larger aquariums for having cetaceans (and would burn SeaWorld to the ground if they could) are content.

Zoo born animals are more comfortable around humans - including both their caretakers and the members of the public - than wild-born adult animals tend to be.  That, in turn, makes them easier to work with, easier to implement training and enrichment and veterinary care for, and allows keepers to provide a better quality of care.

More many years, some of the most common animal ambassadors seen in zoo education programs have been non-releasable birds of prey.  They can't fly, they can stand on a glove and be admired, and they are relatively low maintenance, so what's not to love?   As it turns out, many zoos are starting to look at using these birds with a more critical eye, at the very least becoming a lot more selective as to which birds they use.  Just because an owl will sit on a glove doesn't mean it doesn't find the whole process quite stressful.

Rescued animals can make an important addition to a zoo collection.  They can help the zoo or aquarium highlight native species and describe their natural history and conservation.  It can certainly mean the difference between life and death for the individual animal in question.  I just find it exasperating how so many people disparage the important work that zoos do by maintaining breeding groups of exotic animals under human care while acting like the rescues are a holy mission.

Zoo Review: Clearwater Marine Aquarium

I felt like I was confessing a dirty, shameful secret, but the truth had to come out.  Three or four times during my visit to the Clearwater Marine Aquarium, I had to look a docent (of which there seemed to be dozens, more than animals it seemed at times) square in the eyes and tell them the truth.  "Sorry, I never actually saw the movie."

To a man (or, more often, to a teenage girl), they looked back at me shocked.  It was if they were thinking, "Then what are you even doing here?"

Truth be told, Clearwater Marine Aquarium predates Dolphin Tale, the cinematic saga of its most famous resident, Winter the dolphin, by nearly forty years.  Still, there is no denying that Winter is what put the Aquarium on the map and in the collective imagination of the world.  She and her companion, another Atlantic bottlenose dolphin named "Hope," are the stars of the (admittedly tiny) facility, visible from above the water or in an underwater viewing gallery.  Don't be surprised if you don't see Winter wearing her famous prosthesis - unlike in the movie version, she only dons it occasionally (when it's not in use, you can see it hanging over the pool).  An entire wall is covered with the dolphin's fan mail.  There are frequent keeper talks and training demos with the dolphins to keep them stimulated and the public informed.

Besides the dolphins, the aquarium is home to a river otter, a pair of nurse sharks, a flock of great white pelicans (the only nonnatives in the collection), and more sea turtles than you could imagine.  Oh, and a very few other fish - this tops Dallas World Aquarium as the least fishy aquarium I've ever been to.  That's because this is not a typical aquarium - it is not a member of AZA, it does not participate in Species Survival Plans and breeding programs.  They don't have big tanks with lots of different fish and invertebrate species from around the world, meant to highlight aquatic diversity.  It is solely focused on rehabilitation or, when that does not prove possible, permanent housing of local marine animals in need of a home.  This mission has been going on since 1972.  It just did so a lot more quietly until Winter came along.

At times, the presence of the movie seemed overbearing.  Half the signage seemed focused on the film rather than the animals ("Morgan Freeman was here!").  Exhibits are named after animal characters from the film.  That one exhibit of nonnatives, the pelicans?  That came to be because one of the pelicans was a former animal actor that was used for the film as a stand in for a native pelican (Hollywood often uses exotic species as substitutes for natives in TV and movies due to protections in place for native wildlife).  After the movie, he came to live at the Aquarium, and the rest of the flock was acquired for companionship.

I found the Aquarium the most enjoyable when it put aside its newfound celebrity and focused on what it is at heart - a rescue center.  The first exhibit I saw when I walked in was a long gallery of windows looking into the sea turtle hospital, where you could watch caretakers exam turtles in the hospital room or watch turtles potter around in their holding pools.  Informative graphics on the wall detailed the stories of past rescues and releases.  Upstairs was a display of a shrimp trap, describing how these traps were once responsible for the deaths of countless sea turtles and how the development of the Turtle Exclusion Device revolutionized sea turtle conservation.

Clearwater is a simple facility - the tanks are plain concrete, nothing fancy, as you would expect from an institution which has spent most of its existence on a shoestring budget.  Bigger and better things may be on the horizon, however, as the facility looks to move to a new building which, among other improvements, would give the dolphins three times the swimming space.

I love it when a zoo or an aquarium has a compelling story to share, and Winter's is hard to beat (at least until Cincinnati gets around to making a Fiona movie).  Clearwater Marine Aquarium should be immensely proud of the work they've done to give that dolphin the quality of life she has now -  I suspect many organizations or rehabbers might not have given her that chance.  It just feels a little like they focus so much on that one story - and the Hollywood telling of that story - that they risk losing track of the other stories that abound there.  I would hate to see the success of this plucky little Aquarium solely tied to the fate of one dolphin, when there are so many other animals to be saved out there.

Clearwater Marine Aquarium

Movie Review: Dolphin Tale

Some zoos and aquariums are famous for a species or an exhibit, or maybe a celebrity employee or animal.  At the Clearwater Marine Aquarium, that celebrity is Winter, an Atlantic bottlenose dolphin who came to the facility after losing a good portion of her tail and being fitted with a prosthetic one.  Her story is told in the 2011 film, Dolphin Tale.

(I'm slightly disappointed that they missed out on calling it Winter's Tail, but that's the Shakespeare-affacionado in me)

Winter stars as herself in the film, which I guess she would kind of have to, considering the unique nature of her anatomy would make it hard for another dolphin to pass as her.  That being said, dolphins can't talk, so it makes sense that the story largely revolves around the human characters.  The movie focuses on a young man who found the injured Winter and later volunteered at the Aquarium to help nurse her back to health; in the process, his time with Winter helps ease the trouble in his own life.  This is a movie, so of course this is a simplification of the story.  In reality Winter was found on Florida's opposite coast by a fisherman.  Other details of her life - especially relating to her celebrated prothesis - are also somewhat exaggerated in the film.

It's stuff like this that always makes me squirm a little bit at movies based on true stories.  The true story is often too messy, too complicated, with too many characters for a workable movie.  Simplifying it for the movie, while necessary, sometimes makes it seem too fake.  Also, with as much appreciation as possible being shown for Clearwater and it's rehabilitation work, I sometimes worry that popular culture depications of rescue and rehab facilities are too sunshine-and-rainbows.  In truth, there is a lot of loss and a lot of tragedy that often outnumbers the animals saved.  I sometimes wonder how many people burn out as wildlife rescuers because they start it with an unrealistic vision of how it's supposed to go.

Still, Dolphin Tale  is a fun (if a little too kid-friendly) story of how everyday folks can make a major difference in the lives of wild animals, while still stressing the importance of professional care and expertise.  It's also done wonders in sharing the story of a little aquarium and boosting its platform for wildlife rescue and conservation.  And that can only be a good thing.

From the News: Man spanks hippo at Los Angeles Zoo

Man spanks hippo at Los Angeles Zoo; police investigate

Imagine fifty years or so ago, you were a keeper at the Los Angeles Zoo.  Imagine, then, that you went to your director and said, "I really think we need to put a sign up at the hippo exhibit telling people not to spank the hippos."  Let me repeat that... "do not spank the hippos." 

Your director would probably tell you that you were an idiot.  After all, who would do such a stupid thing?

Now, we know...

The (Not So) Deep Blue Sea

Virtually no group of animals has proven more controversial to keep under human care in recent years than the cetaceans - the whales and dolphins.  Between the Blackfish-inspired backlash to SeaWorld to the decision of the National Aquarium in Baltimore to end its dolphin program, whales and dolphins in aquariums are starting to become scarce (side note: though a few new facilities with dolphins are opening up).

What is the source of the controversy?  The intelligence of these animals is often cited... but apes are pretty smart too, and there is a lot less fuss about chimpanzees and gorillas in zoos.  They are big animals, for sure, but giraffes and rhinos are bigger than dolphins and belugas and are much less of a hot-button topic (to be fair, elephants are controversial, but less so than orcas).  To me, the answer is simple: it's the habitat.

We have spent decades revolutionizing habitats for terrestrial mammals, but dolphin and whale tanks have largely remained the same - a concrete box with a glass wall.  Compared to an ape exhibit with tangles of real and artificial trees, or a savannah yard for giraffes, or a seal pool, with its haul-out spots, cetacean enclosures seem bare.  Just water for swimming in.

The other day, it hit me though... exactly what are they doing in the wild?  Swimming all day.  Generally in deep (read: featureless) water.

It may be that in some respects, whales and dolphins are given some of the most natural conditions possible.  Who cares if the floor is concrete and unadorned?  How much time to wild cetaceans in deep water spend on the sea floor?  Some, mainly to grab objects or take a food item, but they don't sleep on it.  Less clutter in the tank makes it easier to swim and maneuver at speed.  Constant keeper feeding, training, and enrichment keep the day varied and stimulating.  Conspecifics provide lots of opportunities for social enrichment.

I would like to remind you, also, that SeaWorld was all set to construct far bigger orca enclosures at their parks.  These plans fizzled after SeaWorld decided to phase out orca breeding.

I also suspect the antipathy towards whales and dolphins is also probably colored by the tradition of training shows, dolphins jumping through hoops and such.  After all, manatees are large aquatic mammals that live in tanks, but there care is less controversial.  Again on the other hand, most manatees in zoos are rescued individuals.

Every zoo and aquarium professional would like to see their animals in the best and biggest (though those aren't always synonymous) enclosures.   Sometimes I feel like we become so reactive to perceptions of how things are, however, that we lose sight of what is actually going on.

Cheyenne Mountain and the Seventh Plague

The big zoo news of the week was the freak hail storm at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, where softball-sized hail rained down on visitors and animals alike.  Human injuries were reported, along with the deaths of five animals as zoo staff rushed to get animals and visitors to cover.  It's a testament to the hard work of the staff that the losses weren't greater, but it's still a sobering reminder of how quickly weather can turn into disaster-mode.

The Rock and the Whale

This past week, the biggest attraction at the Georgia Aquarium wasn't its famous whale sharks - it was professional wrestler-turned-actor Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson.  Johnson and his family had a behind-the-scenes guided tour of the facility where they met many of the aquarium's animals up close and personal.  Afterwards, he did what many a father or husband did and posted some pictures on social media.

And there the headaches began.

Johnson was almost instantly beset by animal rights activists who alternately called him a monster for supporting "slavery" and by begging him to see Blackfish, the most unbiased and honest of all "documentaries."  Almost at once, zookeepers rallied to the Rock's defense, swarming his facebook and instragram with words of praise, invitations to visit their facilities, and defense against the critics.  Within hours, Dwayne Johnson was the favorite celebrity of many a zookeeper.

It makes me happy to see a celebrity with such a public forum sharing happy memories of a visit to the aquarium.  Still, I find it frustrating that we have to spend so much of our time justifying ourselves and playing defensive.  I think of what we could achieve if we didn't have to pour that much energy into this.

Species Fact Profile: Beluga (Delphinapterus leucas)

Beluga

Delphinapterus leucas (Pallas, 1776)

Range: Arctic Circle
Habitat: Arctic waters near ice edge, shallow bays, estuaries
Diet: Fish, Marine Invertebrates
Social Grouping: Highly social, in summer may congregate in the thousands
Reproduction: Sexually mature at 4-9 years old (females mature earlier than males).  Mate from late February through early April.  Males chase the females and ward off other males until the female is ready to mate.  A single calf is born after a one year gestation.  Calves lack blubber at birth and are born in river mouths, where the water is warmer.  Weaning takes place during the second year.  Females breed every 2-3 years
Lifespan: 35-50 Years
Conservation Status: IUCN Near Threatened, CITES Appendix II

• Boy length is 3.5 meters.  Weight is 500-1500 kilograms, with half of that weight being fat (the blubber layer may be 15 centimeters thick in winter).  Males are larger than females
• The stocky body ends in a small head with a very flexible neck, unusual among cetaceans.  The heavy head can be used to create breathing holes in the ice during the winter.  The enlarged melon on the forehead aids in vocalizations.  The lips are very flexible, allowing the beluga to display a variety of facial expressions.
• Calves are grey when born, but turn white with age.  Prior to the summer molt they turn yellow, turning white again after rubbing their withered old skin off on gravel beds.
• Latin name translates to "white dolphin without a wing", referencing their lack of dorsal fins
• The word "Beluga" comes from the Russian for "white"  - the name is also given to a species of sturgeon
• Most of their prey is found on the seabed.  They can dive to depths of nearly 1000 meters, but generally stay in shallower waters.  Prey is gripped with their flexible lips and often swallowed whole.
• Communicate with a variety of clicks, grunts, squeals, and whistles, loud enough to be heard through the hulls of ships.  This has earned them the nickname "Sea Canaries"
• Often observed plying with objects in the water, sch as wood, plants, dead fish, or bubbles, either alone or in groups.
• Rarely breach, but sometimes bob a third of their body out of the water
• Their only significant natural predators are orcas (killer whales) and polar bears, which may attack them when they are trapped in the ice
• The only member of the genus Delphinapterus; their closest relative is the narwhal
• Major threats include pollution, with the accumulation of toxins leading to deformed calves, and global climate change.  Some sub-populations are more threatened then others and receive special protection.
• Traditionally hunted for blubber, which became unsustainable during the era of commercial whaling.  They are easy to hunt due to their fidelity to certain migratory routes.  Today local peoples are still permitted to hunt them for food.

Remembering Alan Rabinowitz

Yesterday was a great loss for the big cats of the world - with the passing of Dr. Alan Rabinowitz, they lost their greatest advocate.  Dr. Rabinowitz had been battling a particularly form of cancer for several years.  His doctors had advised him that if he wanted to extend his lifespan, he would be best served by retiring from the field and leaving the adventuring - he was often referred to as the Indiana Jones of wildlife conservation - to the next generation.  After all, as the founder and CEO of the nonprofit organization Panthera, there was tons of paperwork and other safe, boring responsibilities to tend to.

If there was one thing Alan Rabinowitz was incapable of doing, it was taking the safe, boring route.  I mean, this is a man who shrugged off plane crashes, venomous snakes, and deadly poacher traps like you or I would shake off a bad headache.

Dr. Rabinowitz has always been a legend and an inspiration to me, and I count myself very lucky that I was given the chance to meet him once.  He was giving a lecture on tiger conservation at the National Geographic Museum in Washington, DC.  Afterwards, I was able to sneak close enough to get him to sign a copy of his first book, Jaguar, detailing his first major triumph, the establishment of the world's first jaguar reserve in Belize.  I was serving as a jaguar keeper at the time, and when I told him this, he got excited.  We chatted about jaguars for a while, and he described the latest book he was working on, detailing man's relationship with the jaguar.  It would, he promised, contain a chapter on zookeepers who worked with jaguars and their impressions of the cats.

The next time I crossed paths with Dr. Rabinowitz was online - we were both commenting on an article posted by a former college professor of mine on the conservation role of zoos and aquariums.  Despite the fact that he got his career started off under the aegis of the Bronx Zoo's Wildlife Conservation Society, and that Panthera received much financial support from zoos, Dr. Rabinowitz remained skeptical - not directly opposed, but still skeptical - about how well suited some of the large mammals that he studied - jaguars, especially - were to life under human care. 

Dr. Rabinowitz is survived by his wife, Salisa, whom he met in Thailand, as well as their two children, Alexander and Alana.  He is also survived by the countless animals across the globe that owe their survival to his tireless efforts.  Dr. Rabinowitz was taken from his family far too soon.  Still, I hope that he was able to draw some peace from the satisfaction of all of the good he had achieved for wildlife over his too-brief career.

Zoo Joke: Ape Apprehension

A zoo director is dismayed to come in one morning and find that one of his chimpanzees has escaped overnight.  After an exhaustive search of zoo grounds, they find him - sitting at the top of a tree, fifty feet off the ground.  No one has any idea of how to get him down.

Fortunately, after a quick internet search they find a listing for Ape Apprehension, Inc.  Not knowing what to expect, they give a call and make an appointment.

Not ten minutes later, a truck pulls in and out jumps a man with a suitcase.  At his heels is a big, mean-looking dog.  After shaking hands all around, the man opens the suitcase to reveal a feather duster, a roll of duct tape, and a sawed-off shotgun.  He takes the feather duster for himself, gives one zookeeper the duct tape, and gives the gun to the other.  The trapper arranges for a big pile of hay to be placed under the chimpanzee, and then turns to the zoo staff, explaining his plan.

"Okay, I've done this many times before, so here is how it works.  I'm going to shimmy up the tree and tickle the chimp with the feather duster.  That'll make him lose his grip and fall - don't worry, the hay will cushion him.  As soon as he hits the ground, Rex her -" indicting the dog "will be on him and bite him in the crotch.  The chimp will immediately grab at his crotch to try and get him off.  That's when you -" he indicates the first zookeeper "take the opportunity to wrap him up in duct tape.  From there, all we have to do is carry him back to the enclosure."

With that all said, the trapper puts the feather duster between his teeth and begins to climb.

"Wait, wait a second," shouts the second zookeeper, brandishing the gun.  "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Oh, that?" the trapper says, taking the duster out from his mouth.  "Simple.  It's never happened before, but if I fall before the ape does... shoot the dog."

Notes on a Near-Miss

Earlier this week, I shared the story of the bizarre and brazen theft of a shark from the San Antonio Aquarium.  Today, I heard a new development which struck me as even more bizarre and more disturbing.  The accused thief (well, "admitted" actually) is claiming that he is not a thief, but a hero - that he is activist who stole the shark to rescue it from the aquarium.  Purportedly, he posed as a contractor to gain behind-the-scenes access to the aquarium to scope it out before pulling off the theft.

I don't buy it.

Not the part where he lied his way behind-the-scenes.  That I can totally picture.  But the part where, if he had as few as two brain cells to rub together, that he thought this was remotely a good idea to help the shark.  The animal was put at great risk as it was snatched from its enclosure and rushed out of the facility where it was housed.  It could easily have been killed during this idiotic escapade.

What do we learn from this?  Obviously, we see that people can be stupid, but we already knew that.  Instead, I am reminded on how important it is that we strike the appropriate balance between transparency, allowing the public to see and understand how we manage the animals under our care, and protecting our image.  It's too easy for something to be seen or photographed, passed around the web, and then misinterpreted, viewed in a damaging light.

Thankfully, the San Antonio incident has proven to be a farce rather than the tragedy that it could have been.  I'd say maybe next time could be different... but hopefully there won't be a "next time."

I wish I could believe that...

Another Foiled Theft

Right on the heels of the San Antonio shark caper, we've got this.  I can't count the number of times I've heard visitors say that they wish they had a lemur as a pet.  I never thought the time would come when so many people would try to put the concept into practice.