The Polar Vortex at the Zoo

"On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson Trail.

Talk of your cold!  Through the parka's cold it stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see.

It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee."

- Robert W. Service, The Cremation of Sam McGee

I've made no secret of it.  I hate the winter.  Last winter was especially brutal in our neck of the woods, and we wound up having to pull animals inside or provide supplemental heating for species that I never, ever would have thought we'd have problems with, including some of our most cold-tolerant species.  This winter, it's worse

At least I'm not in Chicago or Minneapolis was my main thought at the start of the week.  There are actually parts of Antarctica that are warmer than the American Midwest right now.  I don't worry too much about zoo animals - they have their devoted keepers who will keep them warm and safe.  This may be an exceptionally bad winter, but these zoos are built for winter and tend to have lots of indoor holding.  It scares me a lot more when these sudden blasts of unusually cold weather hit southern zoos, which are less prepared for winter conditions and have fewer options for moving animals inside.

I worry a little about native wildlife with this horrific cold.  I worry about pets, and hope that their owners keep them inside, warm and safe.  I worry even more about any human who is forced to be out in it, especially if they don't have a choice.

I barely clean (outside) during these events.  The poop will freeze to the ground instantly and I can get it later.  No wet cleaning, certainly.  Besides, I want the animals to hunker down and be comfortable.  The less I disturb them, pushing them out from their preferred shelters, the happier they'll be, which means the happier I'll be.  Winter storm cleaning tends to be perfunctory.  It's the clean up afterwards, on the first decent day, when things really stink.

The good news is that this polar vortex looks like it won't be going on for too much longer, so the end is in sight.  In the meantime, if you have to be outside, whether for animal care or any other duty, here's a tip - make it brief.

The Fading Flamingos of Kamfers Dam

For the last week, much of the zoo world's bird community has been preoccupied with an unfolding crisis in South Africa.  A very important breeding colony of lesser flamingos at Kamfers Dam is seriously threatened by a severe drought.  The water reserves are shrinking rapidly, resulting in the abandonment of hundreds, possibly thousands, of flamingo eggs and chicks.

We could call it a natural disaster - except it's not quite natural.  The dam itself isn't a natural water source, being the byproduct of water accumulation from the nearby city of Kimberley.  The island on which the birds nest in man-made (another example of the supposed "wild" being managed more and more like a zoo).  The flamingos have come to greatly rely on this sanctuary.  Although they have a broad range, lesser flamingos only nest in a tiny handful of sites worldwide, congregating in those sites in tremendous numbers.  As those sites are lost due to human disturbance, as many seem in peril of, the fate of the species becomes more dire.  The loss of the Kamfers Dam population would have extremely serious consequences.

So far, hundreds of chicks have been collected and moved to the National Zoological Gardens of South Africa in Pretoria and a few related facilities for rearing and rehabilitation.  As I'm sure you can imagine, this is taxing their resources to the limit and they are scrambling to come up with the funds and equipment needed to carry out the rescue.  Many international zoos are sending funds in, with some also offering to send staff members raised in flamingo hand-rearing.  Hopefully, chicks can be successfully reared and reunited with their (highly nomadic) flocks in the future, while the habitat at Kamfers can be saved.

Incidents like this remind me of the vital importance of zoos.  How many other organizations could mobilize so quickly for such a massive undertaking?  Who else has nearly as much experience in handraising animals, or in the veterinary care of flamingos?  If some birds prove to be nonreleasable, who else would be able to find homes for them where they can live with other flamingos in a safe, enriched environment?  I'm so proud that some people that I consider friends and colleagues are leading the fight on the US end to save these beautiful, endearing little birds.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go back upstairs and try to find my passport.  You know... just in case.

PS: Images of orphaned or abandoned flamingo chicks certainly can tug at the heartstrings... and scammers are counting on that.  A few shady people have popped up in the aftermath of this flamingo crisis to try and swindle some money out of folks in the name of saving the birds.  Right now, the Pan-African Association of Zoos and Aquariums (Africa's version of AZA) is marshaling the funds that come in and directing them to partners who are helping with the project.  If you are going to give, make sure it is to an actual partner of the project, such as BirdLife South Africa, not some fly-by-night con-artist.

Book Review: The Waterfowl Man of Sylvan Heights

"How crazy were the things he did on that expedition?  Why didn't he just take the flight back to Edmonton along with his birds after that incident?  How many times had he narrowly escaped serious injury or death?  He was too young to be scared too adventurous to be wise in those days.  But somehow, some way, he survived in the Arctic and may other dangerous situations throughout his life with birds."

The keeping of exotic waterfowl as a hobby has largely been in decline in recent years.  Many professional breeders of ducks, geese, and swans have responded by opening their facilities up to the public as specialized zoos.  Among the waterfowl parks in the United States, I would say that there are three that truly stand out - the Pinola Preserve in Louisiana, Livingston Ripley Waterfowl Conservancy in Connecticut, and Sylvan Heights Bird Park.  The later, located in Scotland Neck, North Carolina, was founded - and is still led today - by one of the world's leading aviculturists, Mike Lubbock.

Sylvan Heights volunteer Dale A. True recounts the story of Lubbock's life in The Waterfowl Man of Sylvan Heights: Mike Lubbock's worldwide quest to save waterfowl.  True to the title, Sylvan Heights itself does not appear until almost the absolute end of the book.  Instead, it is a recounting of how Mike Lubbock, a rambunctious, restless young man from England became a crusader for wild waterfowl.  The narrative is framed through a series of expeditions Lubbock has taken to widely diverse habitats - from the Arctic Circle to the Botswana's Okavango Delta - in order to capture birds (or, more commonly, collect their eggs) to bring into captivity for breeding programs.  Even more diverse than the habitats he traverses are the dangers he faces, from shipwrecks in the freezing waters of Tierra del Fuego to hungry crocodiles in Africa.  On top of all this this are the far more mundane - yet I'm sure in Lubbock's shoes more harrowing - threats, such as getting permits sorted out and keeping incubators functioning out in the wild.

More than just a series of adventure stories, The Waterfowl Man frames the quests into what they mean for waterfowl conservation.  In one chapter detailing Lubbock's fieldwork in Spain, True describes how Lubbock spear-headed the initiative to reintroduce (through captive breeding) two vanished duck species to the marshes of Spain.  Perhaps to remind his audiences of what is at stake if we are to fail in our responsibility to protect endangered species, True bookends his narrative with the tragic tale of the Atitlan grebe of Guatemala, a flightless waterbird that Lubbock hoped to save from extinction, but was unable to do because of a variety of factors, not least of all a civil war.  The habitat of this unique bird was lost completely; had grebes been established and bred in captivity, there at least would have been hope for reestablishing them elsewhere.

If I have one major issue with the book, it's the writing style - it's kind of drab.  Interspersed periodically with monologues from Mike Lubbock itself, the book reads like its the hurried notes of the man's field journal, placed in order and left at that.  I mean, the man had a crocodile jump out of the water and snatch a duck from his hand!  He swam ashore from a shipwreck that killed his traveling companion, using his incubation cooler as a life raft!  With material like that, I'd hope for a little more drama in the writing.  Also, you are left with a sense of Dale True's hero worship for Mike Lubbock, which permeates every page.  A few missteps are alluded to here and there (sometimes literally, like when he accidentally stepped on a rare torrent duck egg), but you're mostly left with the impression that Lubbock is absolutely perfect.  I think a little more humanizing, perhaps a little more exploration into the controversies involved in some of the actions, would have made for a more interesting read without detracting from its hero.

Still, True isn't trying to write the Great American Novel - he's trying to build interest in Sylvan Heights and waterfowl conservation, and in that he succeeds quite well.  When you put down The Waterfowl Man of Sylvan Heights, you are left with the impression of a man who has a passion for protecting wild things and would do anything for the birds.  Having met the Lubbocks and visited Sylvan Heights, I'd say that's a correct assessment.  You're also left with a new appreciation for a group of animals that many people pay scant attention to - and you are reminded of what a tragedy it would not only to overlook ducks, geese, and swans, but to loose them.

The Waterfowl Man at Sylvan Heights at Amazon.com

Get Thee to a Duckery

"When I arrived in Long Island, New York, in 1969... there were seven major waterfowl collections just on this on island of New York.  Now none of them remain.  The same thing has happened with the major private collections in New England.  Except for the Ripley collection, they have all disappeared."

- The Waterfowl Man of Sylvan Heights

Collectively, zoos and aquariums have seen a decline in their populations of wild waterfowl over the years, both in terms of the number of individual birds and in the number of species they maintain.  Waterfowl exhibit space, such as duck ponds, are being lost.  A few very hardy (and common) species which do well in mixed-species exhibit, such as Egyptian geese, are thriving in the changing conditions.  Rarer, more delicate species, especially those that don't fit neatly into the popular geography-themed exhibits, are not.

It sometimes seems that there is a flaw with the Noah's Ark mentality of zookeeping - as some animals get bigger staterooms, others get tossed overboard.

It's a problem being encountered by many groups of animals.  Fortunately, waterfowl have something that many other species don't have - an enormous support base of private keepers who support these populations.  The duckeries, if you will.

For centuries, long before any traditional zoos were in existence, people have kept waterfowl privately, including exotic species as, essentially, living lawn ornaments.  Sometimes things have gone, well... fowl, as was the case in the United States, where European mute swans, brought over by private keepers, went rouge and overran much of the country, competing with an threatening other, native waterfowl species.  In other cases, in the hands of responsible owners, like the Lubbocks of Sylvan Heights, these collections have been an essential conservation resource, doing more for conservation of endangered waterfowl than any conventional zoo.

Laws and regulations for setting up private collections vary tremendously over the country.  In some places, a would-be aviculturalist will find himself or herself hogtied with red tape.  In others, anything goes - where perhaps a tiny bit more regulation wouldn't be the worst idea.  Still, I'm very supportive of this hobby.  Most caretakers will only want a pair or two of some common, easy to keep, colorful species - mandarins, ringed teals, etc - from a breeder.  That's fine.  Their business would still be supporting the breeder, their bread and butter, so to speak, which could then give them the resources and the freedom to dedicate themselves to a pet project of working with an endangered, delicate species more in need of conservation efforts.

I've sometimes thought that, if I ever got just enough money and land, I'd love to have a little aviary at home (assuming "home" ever means something other than an apartment).  Nothing fancy, maybe just a pen the size of a normal living room, holding a few pairs of birds of different species.  With a little pond, of course, so I could get a pair or two of ducks.  After work, I could come home and sit in the aviary, maybe toss a handful of Mazuri Waterfowl out over the surface of the water and watch the birds feed.

And in doing so, supposing that I selected my source well, I might know that, in a way, I was making my own special contribution to conserving a group of birds that I absolutely adore.

Species Fact Profile: Scaly-Sided Merganser (Mergus squamatus)

Scaly-Sided (Chinese) Merganser

Mergus squamatus (Gould, 1864)

Range: Northeast Asia
Habitat: Forested Mountain Rivers, Lakes
Diet: Small Fish, Insects, Crustaceans
Social Grouping: Pairs, Small Flocks
Reproduction: Breed in late March or early April.  Monogamous, sometimes polygamous (breeding trios of one male and two females).  Nest in tree holes lined with down.  4-12 eggs incubated by the female for 31-35 days.  Ducklings fledge at 8 weeks old
Lifespan: 15-20 Years
Conservation Status: IUCN Endangered

• Body length 52-58 centimeters
• Males have a creamy white breast with a grey-black back, a glossy green-black head, and a shaggy crest on the nest.  Females have a buff-colored head with a wispier crest.  Legs and beaks are orange in both sexes.  The white feathers on the flanks of both sexes are edged in black, giving the scaly appearance alluded to in the name.  
• Beak is long, slender, and serrated, useful for grasping small, slippery fish
• Migratory, flying south to southern China in the winter; there are historical records as far south as Vietnam and Thaiand
• In decline due to habitat loss and hunting.  Also threatened by pollution, as well as entanglement in fishing nets
• Wild populations are being bolstered through the addition of artificial nest boxes

Take a Loaf Off

"But he answered and said, it is written, Man shall not live by bread alone."

- The Bible, Matthew 4:4

And, apparently, neither shall ducks.

With a few, monitored exceptions (like lorikeet aviaries and giraffe decks), we discourage feeding of zoo animals.  We also discourage the feeding of wild animals that happen to reside in our zoos.  Among the most plentiful of the later are mallards and Canada geese.  We tell people not to, both inside our gates and in the park outside, but they do it anyway.  After all, what's more pleasant than an afternoon in the park feeding the ducks?

Depends on what you feed them.

Bread is the preferred food for people to dispense to the waterfowl.  But it shouldn't be.  It's poor in nutritional value, leaves a soggy mess, and can lead to deformities in young, growing birds, such as angel wing.

Do you feel absolutely compelled to feed the birds?  First, don't do it in the zoo itself - we don't need any more of the little monsters attracted to our grounds.  Come to think of it, don't do it anywhere where it is permitted.  If you do feed them, give them something nutritious and healthy, like grapes, lettuce, or peas.  Feeding birds for our pleasure shouldn't come at the expense of their health and well-being.

The Goose on the Loose

I was raking up one of our aviaries when a visitor ran up in a hurry.

"Come quick, there's an animal out of its cage running around!"

I dropped my rake and shovel and ran out as quickly as I can (making sure to carefully close and lock the aviary behind me - no reason to compound the escape problem) and followed her in a hurry.

"What is it?" I asked, unhooking my radio from my belt.

"A bird - a big black bird!"

Well, to be sure, that could have been any number of things.  It could have been a raven - which was brought to us with some wing injuries, so probably wouldn't be too hard to catch.  It could be a male curassow, a mindlessly-aggressive turkey-like bird from Latin America.  Or a black swan.  Or a cassowary, in which case, we were all probably going to die.

Unfortunately, no further details were coming, just "big", "black", and "bird."  (I feel the need to point out that this visitor did not appear to be someone from whom English was not their first language, so I'm not sure why we couldn't go into a little more detail here.)

"There!" She yelled, stopping suddenly and pointing dead ahead.  Looming in the center of the path, largely ignored by everyone else but given a reasonable berth was... a Canada goose.  Identical, in fact, to every single member of the flock of thirty that was grazing a few yards away on one of our lawns.  Or the dozens that were swimming in the nearby creek.  I looked over this visitor again - appearance, clothes, accent... nothing to suggest that she wasn't a local.  I tried to wrap my head around an adult human being who had lived in this area for more than seven minutes without encountering a Canada goose before.  When I told her what it was, the name meant nothing to her.  She still thought it was some exotic zoo beast on the loose.

I mean, they aren't even predominately black...

Courtesy of Doc Thompson, Facebook

I love waterfowl, but Canada geese are ones of the banes of my existence.  During the nesting season, they become savagely protective of their nests and attack small children who try to harass them.  But they have negative qualities as well.  They eat food meant for other animals, sometimes chasing them off their own diets.  They decimate our grass.  And there's that smug look on their face when they poop on the path directly in front of you, then look at you like they're saying, "That's right.  I did that."

An adorably naive new keeper once asked if we could catch them all and sell them to or trade them with zoos in other countries, where they would be considered "exotic."  I had to patiently explain that that's not how this works, and that they are protected as native wildlife.  Besides, as invasive as Canada geese have proven to be around the world, there's almost nowhere where I think they really would be considered "exotic."

Canada geese have their place here.  It's just that they also have a time here, too, and that time is not during the spring and summer.  Then, they're supposed to be in... well, Canada, sitting on eggs and raising their young, then migrating down for the winter.  The problem is that life is so pleasant down here what with no predators and endless grassy lawns that they see no need to migrate anymore.  They have become alien invaders in their own country.

With proper legal permits, there are steps that can be taken to reduce their numbers and impact.  There is a hunting season, of course, but not in the residential and urban areas where they make their presence most known.  There is egg control, through pinning or oiling (don't bother removing the eggs - they'll just lay more).  There is harassment, through trained dogs and other methods.  Still, Canada geese are tough, resilient birds.  They can be hard to scare off for too long, and they breed fast.

After all, it wasn't by being lazy, stupid, or weak that they conquered the United States.  So we continue our arms race - I try to drive them off, they slip back in as soon as my back is turned.  I'll probably be doing it for the rest of my career.  I'm still just amazed, however, that a functioning human adult had gone so much of her life without ever noticing the geese among us.

The Quacking Lagoon

Trumpeter swans are spectacular birds.  The world's largest waterfowl, they are imposing, stately, and elegant.  I've watched them in the wild and in several zoos, gliding serenely across the water or grazing on the shoreline.  The first pair I ever saw was presiding over a motley crew of other ducks, like a king and queen surrounded by jostling courtiers.  The other birds were all much smaller, of course, but what they lacked in size they made up for in color.  And personality.  I could have spent an hour watching the mixed-species flock of ducks, geese, and swans swirl around each other.

It used to be one of the most common sights at many zoos.  Now, duck ponds are far rarer.

I'm not really sure why.  I suppose that back in the early days of zoo design, duck ponds just made lots of sense.  They were cheap and easy to build, or, more likely, to just throw fencing around an existing pond.  Ducks and geese are cheap to feed and most species are easy to breed (fueled by our thousands of years' worth of knowledge having domestic waterfowl).  It's easy to keep many different species together.  They are colorful and active.  Many species are very cold hardy, especially compared to, say, parrots.  For a new zoo that was building itself up from the ground up, having a duck pond probably just seemed simple.

Then, the face of the modern zoo began to change.  There was a demand for bigger and better habitats for animals, especially large mammals, and as most urban zoos are tightly locked in by their surrounding neighborhoods, that space had to come from within.  Waterfowl ponds - pretty but perhaps not as popular as bears and elephants - were sacrificed to give more space to mammals.  And it wasn't all paradise, either - waterfowl in open-topped ponds were vulnerable to predators, such as owls and minks.  No matter how many signs you put up, visitors still insist on feeding them bread and other junk food.  Also, building an ideal waterfowl habitat inevitably attracts... waterfowl.  Nuisance Canada geese and armadas of mallards descend, dominating and harassing and out-eating the zoo birds... sometimes even breeding with them.

The best solution is to cover these ponds with netting, keeping zoo birds in, predators and freeloaders out, but considering the size of the pond, that can be an enormous expense.  Who needs the hassle?  They're just ducks, right?  Who comes to the zoo to see ducks?

Well, I mean, I do.  Besides, ducks (and geese and swans) are awesome.  They are, for starters, quite beautiful.  They are almost very active; a troop of monkeys has nothing on the drama that a flock of ducks can start up with each other.  Many species are endangered and could benefit from more zoos working with them.  Captive-breeding has played a tremendous role in saving some species, such as the nene, from extinction.

The face of zoos are always changing, and exhibits seem to come and go like fashion fads.  Still, I wouldn't mind if duck ponds made a comeback.  In a world full of action and loud flashy experiences and everything trying to be bigger and better than it was last year, there are few pleasures as simply and enjoyable as just sitting on a bench and watching ducks.

Sporcle Quiz - Sporcle at the Zoo: Trumpeter Swan

Sporcle at the Zoo kicks off 2019 with its next quiz, featuring the world's largest waterfowl species and a great conservation success story, the trumpeter swan!

Sporcle at the Zoo - Trumpeter Swan

From the News: Macedonians Learn to Love Their Neglected Zoo Again

Macedonians Learn to Love Their Neglected Zoo Again

Compared to other parts of the Balkans and the former Yugoslavia, Macedonia has had a cakewalk the last decade... which isn't to say that times weren't still plenty hard (just less you know, active warfare).  When societies are shaken, zoos are some of the first institutions to suffer, and the zoo of Macedonia's capital Skopje was no exception.  It's a story that's played out across the globe in stressed, often wartorn societies, from Kabul to Caracas.  Here, at least, things seem to be improving by leaps and bounds.  What's happening in Skopje is a great reminder of the positive energy that a zoo can bring to its community, as long as it gets support and stability.

New animals, new exhibits, new conservation partnerships, the prospect of accreditation in the European Association of Zoos and Aquariums... quite a turn around.  Congratulations to every Macedonian zookeeper - and their collaborators across Europe - who have worked so hard to nurse this zoo back to health.  Hopefully it's future will continue to shine, serving as an inspiration for down-on-their luck zoos across the globe.


Sea lion Khan and his keeper Dragan Traikovski.  Photo: BIRN

Kevin the Seriema Presents the Weather

Staff from the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium decided to visit their local news station, accompanied by the red-legged seriema "Kevin" - who obviously had other things on his mind than participating in a demonstration on seriema behavior.  Instead, the leggy South American bird decided that it was the perfect time for an on-air audition for his dream job - meteorologist.  You do you, Kevin.

Zoo Review: Denver Zoo, Part II

Continuing our tour of the Denver Zoo, we come to the newest, biggest expansion, Toyota Elephant Passage.  Like Predator Ridge, Elephant Passage is a rotating habitat, in this case for three of Asia's largest mammals - the Asian elephant, the Malayan tapir, and the Indian rhinoceros.  At least, theoretically it is - I had a hard time imaging the species being in exhibits other than those I saw them in.  I feel like the tapirs would have completely vanished inside the massive elephant enclosure, while I couldn't picture the elephants fitting comfortably into the tapir habitat.  At any rate, everyone looked great where I saw them.  At the start of the trail is an amphitheater for elephant training demonstrations; during my visit, a massive bull elephant was holding court with his keepers, demonstrating his skills at completing husbandry behaviors.  Just down the trail, the visitor walkway ducks underneath a bridge that looks like it could support a herd of elephants - which is what it is for, as the elephants can use it to pass overhead from one yard to the next.  Further along are islands of gibbons, swinging in front of plodding rhinos, beautiful Sarus cranes, and a tall, meshed-in habitat for clouded leopards.  At the center of the trail are two indoor exhibits - the elephant house, where the pachyderms can be viewed in inclement weather, and the Asian-styled Village Hall, where rhinoceros hornbills, monitor lizards, and fishing cats can be observed.  The big draw here is likely to be the playful family of Asian small-clawed otters, frolicking around in their pool.

More pachyderms can be seen in the nearby pachyderm house, now home only to black rhinos (in a yard that I assume used to be for elephants, as it is huge) and Nile hippos (in what is actually one of the less impressive exhibits at Denver).  Both species can also be seen indoors, while a herd of alpacas is stationed outside in the Be A Zookeeper Zone, a neat little play area that every zoo should consider a version of.  Across from the rhinos are two towering mountains for wild sheep - one for Dall's sheep from Alaska, another for the bighorn sheep of Colorado.  Next door is the exhibit that first put Denver Zoo on the map - Bear Mountain, perhaps the first naturalistic zoo exhibit in the United States, built in the style of Carl Hagenbeck's German exhibits.  At the time of my visit (not right now, I believe) it was home to grizzly bears.  A Mesa Verde styled enclosure by the bears, resembling Anasazi cliff dwellings, houses a pack of coatis.

Most of Denver's excellent collection of monkeys, apes, and lemurs can be seen in Primate Panorama, a sprawling compound of primates from around the globe in handsome mesh-enclosed habitats.  Smaller primates, such as golden lion tamarins, lemurs, and aye-ayes (in a nocturnal display, where, to be honest, viewing is very difficult) are housed in the grandiosely named Emerald Forest building, which didn't really live up to the hype of its name.  Far more impressive are the habitats of gibbons, mandrills, orangutans, and gorillas (babies of the last two species were present during my visit).  The great apes can be viewed from inside their holding buildings as well as outside in their grassy enclosures.  Non-primates in the exhibit are included as well in the form of red-river hogs, duikers, and the avian occupants of the Forest Aviary.  The exhibit ends in the Congo Basin-themed marketplace, home to many visitor services.  Outside of Primate Panorama is Monkey Island, where a troop of capuchins clambers about on a lushly-planted island, while pelicans patrol the moat.

Bird World is the nucleus of the Denver Zoo's bird collection.  Outdoor displays house bald and Steller's sea eagles, American flamingos, cinereous vultures, and mischievous kea parrots from New Zealand, as well as imposing cassowaries.  Directly outside of the building is a small habitat of African penguins; like many zoos, Denver Zoo now offers penguin encounters for visitors.  The building itself largely consists of spacious free-flight aviaries, with a few smaller single-species exhibits thrown in for good luck.  Like many zoo aviaries, the bird keepers here apparently are forced to cope with the fact that a lot of visitors aren't that into birds by tossing sloths into one of their exhibits.  Not featured in the viewing experience is the extensive Avian Propagation Center, the center of the Zoo's impressive breeding program.  Between Bird World and Primate Panorama is a lorikeet feeding aviary.

I expected Denver Zoo to knock my socks off, and in many ways it did.  Outside of guided tours or zoo conferences, I don't think I've ever been to a zoo and seen so many training and enrichment demonstrations - without even trying, I wound up seeing demos for lion, tiger, sea lion, and elephant... and all of this on a slow week day in the off season.  Many of the exhibits were spectacular, and even those that were more on the blah end of the spectrum - hippos, smaller primates, (at the time) polar bears - still compared favorable to the average exhibit of that type I'd seen at many zoos.  Many of the old, less-suitable habitats - the Monkey House, the Feline House - have recently been shuttered.

The commitment to field conservation here is also extraordinary.  The Lake Titicaca water frogs in Tropical Discovery are one, representing the Zoo's field work in Lake Titicaca.  In previous posts, I've mentioned Denver's work in Mongolia, home to many imperiled (but ignored) endangered species.  The Zoo also walks the walk with its commitment to sustainability, especially waste management.  Its wellness-based approach to animal care is hard to beat.

I would highly recommend Denver Zoo to anyone visiting the area.  For those already living in the Mile High City, take pride in the fact that your city can boast of one of the best zoos in the country, and it's only getting better.

Denver Zoo

Zoo Review: Denver Zoo

Like many American zoos, the Denver Zoo began modestly - accidentally, even - with a single donated animal.  From that single bear cub back in 1896, the zoo grew steadily and slowly.  Its trajectory changed forever, however, at the tender age of 20, when Denver mayor Robert Speer made a fateful decision:

"Prison bars can be done away with," replaced with "concrete rocks, waterfalls, trees."

Denver became the first zoo in the country to have a naturalistic exhibit, Bear Mountain, which stands today.  It was the first step in the zoo becoming one of the most progressive in the country.  This trend continues today, as Denver Zoo is one of the most environmentally friendly zoos in the country, being the recipient of AZA's first ever Green Award and being a pioneer in the use of renewable energy.  These trends, coupled with an outstanding collection in dynamic exhibits, easily make Denver Zoo one of the best zoos in the western United States.

The best that Denver Zoo has to offer can be seen almost immediately upon entering the gates.  Predator Ridge is a spacious compound of exhibits dedicated to Africa's three great social carnivores - the spotted hyena, the African wild dog, and, of course, the lion.  The three species are rotated through a series of exhibit, allowing them to explore each other's territories and keeping them on guard against rivals, just as they would in the wild.   The best place to view the predators is in Pahali Ya Simba ("Place of Lions"), an indoor viewing area from which keepers give demonstrations while guests can get inches away from the lions, hyenas, or wild dogs through floor-to-ceiling windows.  During my visit, I watched a trio of lionesses going to town on a whole sheep carcass right in front of the window, which was an incredible experience.  The building also houses displays of African reptiles; small African mammals (dikdiks, porcupines, mongooses) are outside.

Behind Predator Ridge, much of the center of the Denver Zoo is taken up by a series of yards for (mostly) African ungulates.  The two most iconic species - Grevy's zebras and giraffes - are the first up.  The giraffes can be seen indoors as well as outdoors in their barn.  Other ungulates seen include okapi, Somali wild ass, bongo, addax, and Cape buffalo, an impressive species which, while common in the wild, is not often exhibited in American zoos.  Somewhat separated from the African species is a spacious paddock for an Asian - Mongolian wild horses.  That might have been my favorite yard - the horses were really kicking up the dust while I watched, and it was nice seeing them in a space that really gave them room to run.  Also occupying the zoo's central region are (in no particular order) secretarybirds (sharing an exhibit with the okapi), red kangaroos, and sleek cheetahs.  That the cheetahs aren't located next to the lions and hyenas is no accident, even though they are fellow African predators.  Though it used to be common practice to house them alongside other cats, we know now that cheetahs are easily stressed by the presence of larger, more dominant predators, hence their being removed to a safer distance.

At the time of my visit, polar bears were the stars of Northern Shores - but no longer.  The Denver Zoo sent it's pair of bears out to other facilities, as they weren't breeding and it was decided that the (relatively new) exhibit wasn't quite up to snuff anymore.  To say that the decision generated some controversy would be putting it a bit mildly, though I feel it was for the best.   Northern Shores  is also home to the Zoo's pinnipeds (California sea lions and harbor seals), along with North American river otters, with underwater viewing of all species.  The entire area is slated for renewal at some point in the future, possibly resulting in the return of polar bears.  Until then, the Zoo's brown bears are hanging out here.

Rivaling Predator Ridge - but on a smaller scale - is The Edge, Denver Zoo's new habitat for Amur tigers.  The tigers occupy two grassy yards with pools and climbing structures, linked by an overhead tunnel system of the sort that seems to be the rage these days.  The exhibit also includes a training wall, allowing visitors to watch as keepers train the tigers to assist in their husbandry.

The Zoo's reptile, amphibian, and fish collections - along with a few stray mammals - is centered in Tropical Discovery, a sprawling compound that anchors the east end of the zoo.  Inside it's humid interior, visitor walk through a simulated rainforest, ducking through its winding corridors to see a very impressive collection of diverse species in beautiful exhibits.  It's a huge building, and I had to do a few double-takes to make sure that I saw everything.  Highlights for visitors will probably include the Siamese crocodiles (visible above and below the surface of the water) and probably the biggest and finest indoor Komodo dragon exhibit that I've ever seen (the dragons have access to an outdoor enclosure during clement weather).  I really appreciated that the dragons weren't just exhibited - they were showcased, the center of a themed gallery that included a complete Komodo skeleton, a behind-the-scenes peek into the keeper work-space, and video monitors depicting life in the wild.  The venomous snake collection was dazzling, featuring an impressive variety of cobras, rattlesnakes, and tree vipers.  The aquarium wing was modest but interesting.  Other stars included green anacondas, alligator snapping turtles, caiman lizards, and capybara.  My biggest treat was, ironically, one of the smallest animals present - Denver Zoo is the only zoo in the country (to my knowledge) to exhibit the bizarre Lake Titicaca water frog, and I was thrilled to see them here.

There's lots more to see at the Denver Zoo, so check back tomorrow as I finish my walk through the Zoo!

Denver Zoo

"What is a Cassowary?"

Recently, the TV quiz show Jeopardy! featured a question (sorry, answer) for which the correct question was... "What is a cassowary?"  The contestants were unable to identify the pictured bird.

This of course led to lots of snickering on the Zookeeper Facebook community, with lots of "OMG, dummies don't even know what a cassowary is!"

Ok, let's be honest, though.  Outside of the range countries (Australia, Papua New Guinea, and Indonesia)... how many people really do know what a cassowary is?  And for those that do know, how did they learn it?

I remember the first time I ever saw a picture of one.  My grandfather had gotten me a few packs of trading cards that depicted animals from the San Diego Zoo.  In that first pack was a card depicting a cassowary, and I was immediately entranced by it.  By some striking coincidence, later that same week I was watching one of my favorite cartoons - Batman: The Animated Series - with my brother, when what should happen to lurch across the screen but... a cassowary?  Yes, a cassowary, sicced on the Caped Crusader by the nefarious Penguin during a heist at the Gotham Zoo.

A year or so later, I saw my first zoo specimen.

My point is, no one taught me what a cassowary was in school - nor did anyone teach me what an echidna was, or a tuatara (or that it isn't a lizard), or any number of other animals.  Or what the difference is between a bison and a buffalo.  There was no class in high school biology where a patient teacher explained the difference between "venomous" and "poisonous."  There were classes on ecology and evolution and basic biology, but most of the nitty-gritty animal knowledge, I picked up myself, either studying on my own, watching esoteric nature programs, or going to the zoo.

There are times when we animal care folks - especially,  hate to say, those who are new to the field and reveling in our newfound glory - take too much pleasure in rubbing in our vast stores of useless knowledge...  it's one of the reasons that people hate watching any movie with us where an animal might appear, even for a second.



So no, I'm not going to laugh at some guy who doesn't know what a cassowary was, and I'll even give them points for guessing "emu," which is pretty darn close.  Instead, I'll be glad that cassowaries made it onto Jeopardy! at all.  Maybe seeing that big blue-headed murderbird on the screen, just for that instant, will inspire some kid to flip to Wikipedia and look it up.  And who knows where that will lead them.

A Far Flung Friendship

"Distance cannot matter - ours is a friendship of the heart."

- Mary Anne Radmacher

I was cleaning up my desk the other day, which is always a task fraught with peril.  On one hand, I could easily get pinned under a falling stack of papers, either crushed outright or left to starve as I lie there, immobile (I have little confidence in my coworkers coming to the rescue).  On the other hand, which is far more likely, I could happen to come across something, some long forgotten note or memo or photograph, which distracts me and brings cleaning efforts to a grinding halt.

In this case, that is what happened.

There were five of us in the photo.  It was taken at the southern zoo where one of us worked, and sure enough she was in the center of the photo, clad in her guano-streaked uniform.  The rest of us were there as part of a conference and had made a point of seeking her out.  The big silverbacks of the zoo world were all there, but so were we - the small fry, climbing our ways up with enough seniority that we finagled invitations to the conference, but still in the trenches enough that we had fresh zebra dung on our boots.  We met for dinner and talked for hours, the endless catching up of personal lives and chaotic madness from our respective zoos.  It was easily one of the best evenings that I had last year.  When I left, I hated to think that I'd have to wait another year.

As much as I love my job, sometimes my favorite parts of it are the times when I'm not there.  Instead, I'll be on the road, doing an animal transport or participating in a conference or workshop.  Part of it is the joy of visiting a new city, seeing a new zoo, and maybe meeting a species of animal that I'd never encountered before.  A big part of it lately has been the chance to see my friends.

I have a network of people scattered across the country that I rarely see, but paradoxically consider to be some of the best friends I ever had.  Some of us worked together for a while, before changing jobs pulled us in different directions.  Some of us were in school together, undergrad or graduate.  Some of us just met happenstance through the course of our jobs and formed bonds.  Every time a bunch of us meet, new faces are drawn in - someone's coworker, or ex-boss, or whatever - and another strand of the web is formed.

We don't interact much, but in some ways we have so much more in common with each other than we do with our immediate coworkers at our respective aquariums and zoos.  We've seen a lot together, risen through the ranks on parallel roads, and compared battle scars many times.  I'd feel silly saying it to their faces, but I really miss a lot of these guys outside of our brief get togethers.   I like to think they miss me, too.

When I'm at the airport, ready to head home, I find myself wandering around the terminal before my flight, hoping to bump into one or two of them so we can have one last chat before we go our separate ways.  After that, there's not too much except a few facebook messages, maybe a text or two, and getting caught back up in the daily grind that I left behind... but man, sometimes that next conference seems so far away...

Species Fact Profile: Kea (Nestor notabilis)

Kea

Nestor notabilis (Gould, 1856)

Range: New Zealand (South Island)
Habitat: Alpine Forest and Scrub
Diet: Shoots, Fruits, Nectar, Seeds, Birds, Carrion
Social Grouping: Loosely Structured Flocks, Pairs
Reproduction: Monogamous with long-term pair bonds.  Nest in rock crevices, logs, hollow trees, or other cavities.  1-5 eggs are laid between July and January and are incubated by the female for 22-24 days.  The male gathers food for the female while she sits on the eggs.  Chicks leave the nest at about three months old, are independent at five months old, and are sexually mature at four years old.  A single clutch is usually raised per year.
Lifespan: 20 Years (Wild), 50 Years (Captivity)
Conservation Status: IUCN Endangered, CITES Appendix II

• Body length 45-48 centimeters, wingspan 1 meter.  Males weigh 900-1100 grams, females weigh 700-900 grams
• Olive green plumage with orange on the rump and the undersides of the wings and blue iridescence on the primary flight feathers.  The beak is black
• Name "kea" is derived from the most common call the parrots make
• Kea are known to occasionally harass sheep to the point of mutilation, perching on their backs and ripping out chunks of fat and meat.  This behavior, while uncommon, has led to heavy persecution - until 1971, bounties were paid on keas to protect sheep
• Threatened by introduced mammalian predators, especially weasels and cats.  Keas are vulnerable because they often make their nests on or near the ground
• Natural curiosity of keas leads them to ingest objects which they should not (such as lead), get hit by cars, and engage in behavior which may annoy or anger humans (often by damaging property), resulting in their being persecuted
• Extremely intelligent, have been documented preparing and using tools and demonstrate considerable problem solving abilities.  Well known for interacting with tourists, sometimes stealing possessions or damaging parked vehicles.
• Despite historic conflicts with humans, keas are today (mostly) beloved in New Zealand - they previously were on the New Zealand $10 bill (replaced by another endangered New Zealand bird, the blue duck), star in a series of children's books, and are the name of a rank of Boy Scout in New Zealand

Zookeeper's Journal: I knew a bird keeper once who would talk non-stop about her dream exhibit.  It would be a large aviary for kea - with a car in the middle of it.  Every month or so, she would get a new clunker donated, swap it out for the old one, and then sit back and watch with maternal pride as her flock of keas would demolish it before the eyes of horrified zoo guests.  She was never able to pull this off, but I salute the ingenuity behind it.  Kea are notorious for their destructive genius - it's part of the reason (coupled with New Zealand's strict protections for native birds) that they never really made it on the pet trade, compared to many other parrots.  In many ways, they are a very un-parrot-like parrot - the only alpine parrot, as well as (to the best of my knowledge) the most carnivorous of the parrots.  I suppose it's just as well that my friend never got her kea exhibit - she might have decided that an old car wasn't enough enrichment, and that what the birds really needed was a live sheep or to.  That would have been an unsettling scene...

Eye of the Tiger

A (T)horny Situation in Melbourne

The 2019 edition of "Kids Fall Into Exhibits with Zoo Animals" got off to a great start yesterday when a small child tumbled into the white rhinoceros enclosure at the Brevard Zoo. 

The child was present with his parents, who were participating in a close-up encounter with the rhinos, when she fell between the concrete bollards that separate the guests from the animals.  The child was bumped by the snout of a rhino - which, when you consider what is at the end of a rhino's snout, was probably pretty terrifying to behold  - before being retrieved from the exhibit and rushed to the hospital.  The child's mother was also injured in her attempt to remove the child from the enclosure. 

All in all, everyone is expected to be okay, human and rhino.  The encounter program is on hold pending a review for safety reasons.  Seeing as this program has been going on at Brevard since 2009, and that this is the first incident to occur, it sounds kind of like a one-off.  Hopefully, everything will be back to normal soon from this near-miss.


Photo Credit: Brevard Zoo

Happy New Year (... for Some)

Happy 2019!

If you are in the Washington DC region and want to start the year off right by taking advantage of the beautiful weather and taking a stroll around the Smithsonian National Zoo, you only have a few hours.  While the Zoo - along with the other components of the Smithsonian Institute - had been thus far spared the effects of the Federal Government shut down, their luck runs out at midnight.  Tomorrow morning they will be closed, and will remain so until the government reopens.  Whenever that may be.  (I feel like we've seen this movie before, and it wasn't any good then, either).

Of course, the keepers at the National Zoo - and their counterparts at the Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute in Front Royal, Virginia, will still be in, doing the good work of caring for animals.  The blow is falling the hardest on the non-keeper/animal staff, such as the guest services team, who have a lot less financial security in this furlough position.  Hopefully, this will get resolved soon, everyone will get paid what they are owed, and the Zoo and museums will reopen for all to enjoy.

Here's hoping that this is just 2018 trying to squeeze in a few residual drops of crazy, and that 2019 will be, on the whole, a great year.