Surprise! It's USDA!

It's never a welcome announcement, coming as it always does whenever we are inevitably in the middle of something complicated and important.  The most recent time, most of staff was in the midst of an elaborate animal catch-up, a prelude to a medical procedure which we had been planning for some time.  Then, right at the critical moment, everyone's radio squawked on at once.


"USDA is here!" announced the zoo's receptionist. 


With a collective groan, we hurriedly put our catch-equipment away and fanned out.  There was a lot to do.


Unlike an AZA accreditation visit, USDA inspections are surprises.  They're meant to get an accurate glimpse of what day-to-day operations are like.  This, essentially, means that someone's job is to stall the inspector while the rest of the staff frantically runs ahead of them, beating down cobwebs, sweeping floors, and making sure that everything is correctly stowed in the kitchen.


That stalling usually comes in the form of the other half of the inspection - the paperwork.  The inspector reviews veterinary and transport records from the time of the last inspection, making sure that all animals are receiving adequate treatment under a written program of veterinary care, and that the movements of all mammals in and out of the collection are documented on specific transit forms.  Apart from that, they wander the grounds, inspecting public areas and behind-the-scenes areas alike, whether the night houses and winter quarters of the animals or the food prep and hospital facilities.


Many USDA inspectors are veterinarians, but few that I've encountered really have a background in working with non-domestic animals.  Sometimes, this means that they might not really know what is normal, so you have to be prepared to speak up to defend institutional honor.  Long, splayed hooves on a goat are a sign that they are not being trimmed, or at least given the chance to wear down naturally.  Long, splayed hooves on a sitatunga, a semi-aquatic marsh antelope from Africa, are perfectly normal, an adaptation for walking through the swamps.  Fortunately, USDA as a whole seems to realize things like this, even if they don't know the specifics, and doesn't take too heavy-handed of an approach to zoo animals.  Instead, they have their strictest requirements for rabbits, guinea pigs, and other domestic species.


Most inspectors that I've worked with have a neuroses or two, which it helps to pick up on.  Some are obsessed with dust and cobwebs, another that I knew had a passion for inspecting for protruding nails and screws.  Some will glance cursorily at your paperwork and declare it all in order.  Others will read... every... page... twice... most of which is boilerplate.  Most irritatingly, a tiny handful that I've worked with have had a mindset that if they don't find something... anything... then their bosses won't believe they did their job, so they'll keep going in circles, looking for something to complain about.  I've almost been tempted to leave out a very minor infraction just to give them something to latch onto so they'll shut up and go away.


I used to really think highly of the value of inspections, which come once a year (more often if complaints are lodged that require further investigation).  I liked the idea of surprise inspections to keep us on our toes and make sure everything was being done properly.  Lately, I'm less sure.  USDA seems to be getting scaled further and further back, and I keep seeing evidence of frankly atrocious conditions that are allowed to flourish that go unchecked by what it supposed to be the most powerful authority we have - some of these we'll explore later.  Inspectors that I have alternate widely between being far too relaxed and indifferent to obsessed with minor details and complaints that have, almost universally, all been thrown out upon appeal.  Neither has left me with much confidence in the agency.


I love zoos and aquariums and believe in our mission, but acknowledge that there are some dodgy actors out there and that we need a watch dog.  Lately, I just wish we had a better one.