The Babies in the Box

This last month or so, my Facebook feed has been a happy one, because it's overflowing with zoo babies!  The recent stars have been a lion at Audubon Zoo, a polar bear at Columbus Zoo, an Andean bear at the San Diego Zoo, a chimpanzee from the Maryland Zoo in Baltimore, and Binder Park Zoo's adorable black rhino calf, but there are so many others to choose from.  That's a whole lot of cuteness.

Currently unnamed female chimpanzee, from Maryland Zoo in Baltimore (credit: Maryland Zoo)

Historically, many zoos kept quiet about their newborn animals until they were a few weeks old, sometimes even months.  Partially it was to allow the keepers and vet staff to work in peace and quiet during the delicate time, without being swarmed by media and visitors.  There is also a PR element - a newborn animal is a delicate animal, and they don't always make it, especially with an inexperienced, first-time mom  Some zoos didn't like to people's hopes up only to crush their hearts.  Starting off in the field, I knew a litter of snow leopards and a polar bear cub that never made the news for that reason.

Now, there is a lot more focus on zoos being open about everything - evidence: anything related to the early days of Fiona the hippo at Cincinnati Zoo - and sharing the stories of newborns almost from the get-go.  Sometimes, that even means live-streaming the birth, a la April the giraffe.  Even when a week or so of privacy is given, many zoos still share photos or videos of the babies long before they are on public view.

Which brings me to my TED talk:

Whenever such images are shown, of babies in the den building or holding barn or whatever, someone who probably hasn't been to that zoo in ages, if ever, will start making comments about unnatural it is, how little space there is, how miserable the animals must be, etc.

Big cats and bears, in the wild, do not drop their tiny, vulnerable, and oh-so-edible-to-larger-predators young in the middle of the forest or the savanna.  Instead, the female sequesters herself in a den - maybe a cave, or a hollow log, or under the roots of a tree, where she can raise her infant in relative safety.  This is for the welfare of the cub and her own mental well-being.  A highly-stressed mother, in the zoo or in the wild, may kill and eat, or at the very least abandon or neglect, her young.  It's nothing personal.  It's just that she doubts that the young will survive anyway, why invest the effort in raising them?  Better to cut losses and start fresh.

In zoos, that feeling of security is often replicated by keeping the mother in a den building.  She'll be snug and secure, safe from visitors and exhibit-mates (such as the father, in many cases), with staff access restricted to essential caretakers.  These buildings don't look like much - no waterfalls, no planted areas, no rocky outcrops.  Honestly, they look like jail cells with straw or shavings on the floor.  That doesn't matter to the mother - it's exactly what she needs.

Taking care of animals in a zoo - and especially the delicate business of breeding and rearing shy, secretive animals, means doing what is in the best interest of those animals, whether or not it's what we think we might like in their circumstances.  If you see a baby animal in a zoo, and the setting doesn't look necessarily ideal, ask yourself - would you, as an adult, like living in the nursery room that you spent your first few days in?

Probably not - but it's what you needed at the time.  At this fragile stage, what these babies need is peace, quiet, security, and a chance to bond with mom.  Let's just enjoy the sneak-peeks that we're given, and await the day when baby takes the first steps outside to play in the big, wide world, shall we?