Zoo History: The Big Bug House

“The thing that bugs me.  I’ve been stepping on bugs all my life and now they give them a great place to live in.  I’m a second-class citizen.”

- John Davenport

Zoological parks are facilities devoted to the study and conservation of animals.  Almost without exception, however, they present a highly skewed look at animal life on earth, focusing on the biggest creatures.  By some estimates, approximately 80% of Earth’s species are insects.

Insects had historically made the odd cameo in zoo and aquarium collections, usually in association with the reptile house (under that official taxonomy of “things visitors find creepy”).  The London Zoo, already a pioneer with its first reptile house and first public aquarium, followed up with its first insect building, which opened in 1881.  (Further ground was broken in that building in 1916 with the appointment of Evelyn Cheesman as Assistant Curator, a first for a woman in what was then a very male-dominated field).  Still, insects always had a very difficult time competing with big cats, bears, pachyderms, and primates, and with funds always limited, many zoos decided to ignore them.

With the exception of a few display tanks here and there, most focusing on the biggest, most spectacular-looking, and (above all) easiest-to-care for specimens, insects and their relatives hardly had a presence across the pond in American zoos.  Ed Maruska of the Cincinnati Zoo resolved to change that.

In the late 1970’s, Maruska began to plan for what would become the first insect house in the United States.   To put it politely, his colleagues – all of the other directors of major American zoos – were not supportive.  Some of them had tried similar feats on a smaller scale and had to watch their visions rebuffed by the disinterest of the public.  “Many of my colleagues thought I was bugs myself.  [They told me] better men than you have tried it.”

To stock the 6400 square foot building, the newly minted zoo entomologist Milan Busching was sent on collecting expeditions around the world, bringing back bugs for Maruska.  When it opened in 1978, it was a revolutionary facility that challenged visitors on how they thought about insects.    The museum-like building combined graphics, interactive devices (such as a scale to tell you how much you weighed… in insects), and, of course, live animals to tell the story of insects.  Galleries were arranged around themes, such as Insect Lifestyles and How Insects Feed.

As with any enterprise in working with a group of animals that have barely been kept in captivity, there was trial and error… lots and lots of error.  “We’d build up a collection, they’d die off,” Marsuka recalled years later in a interview with Cincinnati magazine as he prepared to retire.  “Nobody knew how to keep them.  I developed a bleeding ulcer.”

Trial and error eventually led to success.  The very year that the building open, Cincinnati received the coveted Edward H. Bean Award for its work with royal goliath beetles.    It was the first of several such awards for the zoo.   In 2015, the zoo received for its conservation work with giant jumping stick insects, being the first North American zoo to display and breed this species.   In 1979, it received the Exhibit of the Year Award from the Association of Zoos and Aquariums.    In 2003, the zoo celebrated the 25^th anniversary of the World of the Insect by receiving a Significant Achievement Award from the AZA, highlighting Cincinnati’s work with leaf-cutter ants. 

Insectariums aren’t as common as aquariums or reptile houses in American zoos, but they are certainly more present than they were before Ed Maruska’s vision came to life in 1978.  Many of the features that World of the Insect included when it opened – leaf-cutter ant tunnels, walk-thru butterfly exhibits, the inclusion of naked mole rats – have been duplicated at other zoos around the country.  They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  For Ed Maruska, however, the best compliment might have been watching one of his former naysayers walk around his brand new building, slack-jawed with amazement.  According to Maruska, if you got close enough, you could hear him mutter “The crazy son of a bitch actually did it…”