Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Slowly - very slowly, mind you - COVID-19 vaccines are being made available.  Triage rules vary from state to state, but there is a general pattern.  The first round, in limited supply, is going to medical staff and other first responders.  After that, usually the priorities will be older folks, as well as people with medical conditions that place them at greater risk than the general population, such as those undergoing treatment for cancer.  Then, there are other essential workers.

It's worth noting that, in the later category, agricultural workers and vet staff are often included.   In many states, that includes zookeepers and other members of zoo staff which might come into regular contact with animals.  

If you haven't already done so, it's a good idea to register with your county to get yourself in the queue.  Likewise, if you work at a zoo or aquarium, your institution might be taking steps to get vaccines lined up for you and your co-workers - if you haven't heard anything, then ask your managers.  

The sooner this pandemic gets crushed - which in large part will be determined by how many of us get vaccinated - the sooner life gets to go back to normal.  Whatever that was.

givvus a turt

People think that the zookeepers and the vet staff have hard jobs, and they certainly do.  Those hard times are interspersed with a lot of wonderful memories and joyous occasions.  You know who has a really hard, thankless, Godless job?  The people who have to monitor our social media presence.

When Penguins Meet Polar Bears

 

There Be Monsters

The harpy eagle gets its name from the harpies of Greek mythology - half-woman, half-bird monsters, the "Hounds of Zeus," who carried off their victims and left unspeakable foulness in their wake.

The actual harpy is found in Central and South America, thousands of miles from Greece, and wasn't encountered by anyone who had ever heard of Zeus until about five-hundred years ago.  Ironically, among the places where they live is a rainforest surrounding a river, both of which are named for another denizen of Greek mythology, the Amazons.  

A host of lizards are dubbed "dragons," from the giant Komodo dragon which can devour a person to the docile bearded dragons which are the backbone of the reptile pet trade.  Echidnas are named after a half-women, half-snake like monster who lived alone in a cave.  The manatees and dugong are collectively called the Sirens.  The scientific name of the Indian rhino commemorates the unicorn.  There is even a tiny group of freshwater jellyfish-relatives named after the Hydra.  

In the names of the animals, we can find monsters everywhere.  

I wonder how much of the ancient lore of people from around the world was based on travelers who got way, way lost and wound up much farther from home than anyone in their civilization had every been.  If they made it back, they might have brought tales of, what to them, would have undoubtedly been monsters.  It's an idea that I've thought about before, and I'm sure others have too, so no points for original thought here.  

But it did make me wonder: what if the animals are named after monsters that are, in fact, based on the animals themselves?

Species Fact Profile: Harpy Eagle (Harpia harpyja)

                                                                        Harpy Eagle

Harpia harpyja (Linnaeus, 1758)

Range: Central and South America, from southern Mexico southwards to eastern Bolivia, southern Brazil, and northern Argentina.  Almost extinct throughout much of Central America, except for Panama

Habitat: Tropical Lowland Rainforest.  Prefer undisturbed forest, but sometimes found in open patches.  Generally found in the canopy

Diet: Monkeys and sloths, but will also eat large birds (such as macaws), lizards, rodents, other small mammals (opossums, porcupines, coati) and sometimes small deer

Social Grouping: Very territorial, will drive out intruders.  Active nests are usually 3-5 kilometers away from one another

Reproduction:  Monogamous, often for life.  Breeding season coincides with the start of the rains, usually April or May.  Nest is built in the upper branches of a tall tree, usually 27-43 meters above the ground and consisting of a woven stick platform lined with plants and fur.  They are quite large (1.2 meters thick, 1.5 meters across) and may be reused year after year.  2 eggs are laid, but only 1 chick raised.   Eggs incubated for 56 days and cared for by both parents.  Female does most of the incubation while the male hunts.   Chick reaches adult size at 5 months, fledges at 6-7 months, but stays with parents for an additional few months, begging for food, remain in parents’ territory for a year.  Reach maturity at 5-6 years old.  Pairs breed every 2-3 years

Lifespan: 25-35 Years

Conservation Status: IUCN  Near Threatened.  CITES Appendix I.  USFWS Endangered

• Largest species of eagle (rivaled by Steller’s sea eagle and the Philippine eagle), largest bird in Central America.  Body length 89-102 centimeters with a wingspan of up to 2 meters.  Females weigh 7-9 kilograms (one exceptionally large female weighed 12.3 kilograms), larger than males at 5-8 kilograms
• Sexes alike.  Dorsal plumage feathers typically black or dark gray, with the breast, belly, and flanks flight grey with horizontal black stripes.  The head, thighs, and vent are a lighter gray color, with a dark band across the nape of the neck.  The tail is gray with horizontal black bars.  The beak is black; the feet are yellow with black talons measuring up to 12.5 centimeters long. 
• The head is crowned with long, black feathers which stand erect when the bird is threatened or excited, possibly channeling sound to the ears.  One of the few diurnal raptors with a facial disk
• Relatively short wings and long tails, which act as a rudder.  Not built for soaring, but made for agile, maneuverable flight among the branches, traveling relatively slowly from tree to tree.  Can fly straight up, able to ambush prey from below as well as from above.  Can reach speeds of up to 80 kilometers per hour
• Their predation of capuchins and other monkeys is thought to benefit many birds, who would otherwise lose their eggs and chicks to monkey predation
• Predominately hunt from a perch, may wait for a day for prey to appear.  Prey is snatched from the canopy or (less frequently) off the forest floor and carried away to a perch to feed.   If the prey is too large, the bird will eat as much as possible so that it will be light enough to carry away.  Size difference of male and female allows them to specialize in prey of different sizes.
• Primary cause of decline is habitat loss, require undisturbed habitat, tall trees for nesting.  Also threatened by shooting.  The birds are sometimes accused of stealing small livestock (lambs, piglets), which probably does not occur often due to their intolerance for disturbed habitats where people and domestic animals are likely to be found.
• National bird of Panama, depicted on the Panamanian coat of arms; state bird of Parana, Brazil.  A harpy released in Belize in 2009 was dubbed “Hope,” a UN Ambassador for Climate Change.  Appears on the Venezuelan 2000 bolivares Fuertes bill.
• Captive breeding efforts were initiated at the Peregrine Fund’s headquarters in Boise, Idaho.  Chicks are born, but at a slow rate – 10 surviving chicks in 7 years.  The decision was made to construct a new Neotropical Raptor Center outside of Panama City.  The more suitable climate resulted in 17 hatchling eagles in the first year.  Between 1998 and 2008, when the program ended, almost fifty eagles were released into Panama and Belize.

Gorillas in the Snow

 

Bad-Ass Benny and the Napoleon Complex

It’s common for zookeepers to discover that the animals that they come to love and care about the most aren’t always the animals that are the most impressive or popular with the public.  From the public side of the railing, visitors can't realize just how enormous the personalities are with some of the most humble-looking animals.   Animals like Bad-Ass Benny

Benny (not his real name) was a Speke’s gazelle, a tiny little antelope from northeast Africa. Barely two feet at the shoulder, he had a plump little sandy body propped up with toothpick-thin legs.  His graceful neck held up an impish face, with a small flap of skin on the tip of his nose.  When excited, this flap puffed up like a balloon until it was the size of a tennis ball.  At the top of his hand was a tiny pair of neat, small sharp horns.  At a first glance, Benny looked like the most ordinary, uninteresting beast in the zoo - not that he usually even got that first glance.  Guests rarely saw him; he was only on exhibit for half a day, since he shared the yard with a pair of oryxes who he rotated on-and-off with.  When he was in the yard, he preferred to lie on a dirt heap, where he blended in perfectly against the sand.  He never called attention to himself, and he never made a show for the guests.  Those first glances were deceiving.  Benny was a bad ass.

He may have been tiny, but every ounce of Benny's petite frame was crammed with attitude, until he was one fearless, dangerously confident little antelope.  He delighted in racing along the fence line, tormenting the cheetahs in the adjacent enclosure.  You could tell that he was practically chanting, “You can’t catch me!”  

Benny was under the impression that all things in this world fell under two categories – food and sparing partners.  When first introduced to the massive scimitar horned oryxes, each the size of a small horse, he instantly tried to herd and dominate them.  Imagine an animal the size of a beagle trying to mount an animal the size of a horse.  That gives you an idea of what it looked like.  They promptly kicked his ass, hence the rotation in use of the yard.  Refusing to learn his lesson, the pint-sized gazelle would continue to challenge the oryx (and the cheetahs, and the zebras who were his neighbors on the opposite side of the enclosure as the cheetahs) through the fencing.  I had a hard time imaging Benny backing down to a lion, or an elephant, for that matter.  

Benny liked to stay in practice by challenging inanimate objects to duels.  On more than one occasion, we found him with an entire flake or two of hay impaled on his horns, shaking to get the wisps of hay from his eyes, and we knew that he had successfully vanquished his enemy.  During the winter, for enrichment purposes (ours and his), we would make him snowman (well, snow gazelles, really) to challenge.

Benny had shared his yard with a pair of crowned cranes; when one of the birds had died, the other had become lonely and bored.  Until another crane could be found, the keepers had installed a mirror in the yard, so the bird would have someone else to “talk” to.  It worked marvelously, and the bird spent hours preening and honking and resting with her new friend.  One day, when cleaning the yard, I glanced up at the mirror for no particular reason.  There, in the reflection, was Benny, just fifteen feet behind me, pawing the ground and shaking his little head for the charge.  I spun around, only to find him staring with the look of martyred innocence.   I turned back to the mirror.  He was again preparing for a charge.

From that day on, whenever I entered Benny's domain, he would slip up behind me, stalking me like a big cat.  If I’d turn around, he’d freeze, and then pretend to graze or to take a nap.  He was not only fearless, but crafty. The Bambi eyes didn’t fool anyone. From that point on, I made a habit of not turning my back on Benny while I was in the yard.

Benny was a pretty old boy when I met him, and he lived for many years after I left him.  He has since passed on.  I had a hard time believing it when his keepers told me - I just assumed he was too cocky and full of himself to ever day.  Sometimes when I visit other zoos and see some quiet, unassuming animal of the non-celebrity type (not a big cat or bear, pachyderm or primate), I find myself watching them a little extra closely, wondering what kind of stories their keepers might tell.

From the News: "Tiger King" not among Trump pardons

If you're already in a good mood today, this might make it just a little bit better.  It did for me!  I knew 45 was bound to eventually do (or in this case, not do) something I agreed with.  And the sleazebag was so sure that it was coming that he even had a limo booked and ready to pick him up from jail.  Tough break, big guy.  I wouldn't hold your breath on Biden, either.

"Tiger King" not among Trump pardons

Open and Shut

Yesterday, the National Aquarium Baltimore was briefly shuttered by local authorities after pictures went viral that seemed to show the Baltimore attraction overcrowded, with visitors not socially-distancing properly.  A visitor took the picture and complained, and the Aquarium was told to close until they could resolve the issue.  It didn't seem to take long - less than a day later, the Aquarium is again open to the public, having put some new rules into place that seemed to satisfy the authorities.

Granted, when I first saw the picture that caused all the commotion, I thought, "That's it?"  Have these people ever seen a really crowded zoo or aquarium?  It can be hard to socially distancing things at a facility like a zoo, no matter how hard you try.  You can meter the people as best you can and limit capacity, but if something cool is happening at an exhibit, crowds will form - even if that crowd is everyone in your 25% capacity facility.  

Less than a week after my zoo reopened, I spent a (guiltily) amused ten minutes watching a docent arguing with a visitor.  The visitor had been parked in front of one of our primate exhibits trying to get a shot of a newborn baby; the docent wanted him to move along because she felt that he was taking up too much of the viewing area and not letting other guests in.  I didn't step in because a) there really weren't any other guests, so I'm not sure who she was trying to make room for and b) I don't like getting too close to people these days.

I'm glad that the National Aquarium is back open - these times are tough, and every day of closure means money not coming through the gates, money that is needed to feed the animals, keep the lights on, support conservation and research work, and, oh yeah, pay us.  It's a good reminder, though, that there are all sorts of rules and regulations in place pertaining to COVID, and they're likely to stay with us for sometime.  We all need to adapt and do what we can to stay open while still staying safe.

Documentary Review: Magic of Disney's Animal Kingdom

A few years ago, Animal Planet debuted its documentary series The Zoo, detailing life behind-the-scenes at the Bronx Zoo and its sister facilities in New York City.  The success of this show led to a spin-off series, based out of the San Diego Zoo and San Diego Zoo Safari Park, and another, The Aquarium, at the Georgia Aquarium.  It also inspired several other zoos to make their own versions.  Among these is Disney's Animal Kingdom.

Narrated by Josh Gad, The Magic of Disney's Animal Kingdom (available on Disney+)  is a peek into the world of the namesake park, as well as Disney's aquarium facility, The Seas with Nemo and Friends, located a few miles away at EPCOT, as well as the safari lodge, a resort nearby that features a sort of mini-safari.  Unlike many of the other zoos featured with their own series, I've never been to DAK, so I was especially interested to watch this series to see what it was like.  Overall, it reinforced my impressions that Disney, deciding to build a zoo, put down the money and did it right.  The facilities look spectacular - I've been on wildlife-watching trips in Africa that looked less like Africa than some of these scenes did.

Apart from the interest in seeing the facility, I didn't especially enjoy the show.  It was too... well, too Disney... everything was too syrupy-sweet.  When keepers were interviewed, I feel like all they did was gush about how cute their animals were and how much they loved to baby them.   There wasn't much said about conservation, or how the animals at Disney impact animals in the wild - which was frustrating, because Disney is a major contributor to conservation programs.  There wasn't really any discussion about how DAK fits into the broader world of zoos.  It was almost like a glorified pet show, with every keeper going on about how cute and smart and wonderful their animal was.

Also, everything just worked out too well.  Every medical issue was neatly resolved, and most episodes ended with a happy baby being born.  Those are all nice, feel good stories, but sometimes I think it helps to show that things don't always have a picture-perfect ending, and that no matter what we do, sometimes bad things happen.  If we paint everything in too pretty of a light, I feel like our audiences end up feeling betrayed, maybe even lied to when they realize that not very story does have a happy ending.

The Magic of Disney's Animal Kingdom would be a great show for small kids to introduce them to animals - if I had kids that I was taking on a trip there, I would show it to them before to get them excited about it.  Having finished Season 1, I think I'll switch back to The Zoo -it just feels a little more realistic (with the lows and defeats making it that much easier to get invested in the lives of the keepers and the animals), and a lot more meaningful.

Little Packages

The first time that I ever held an African pygmy goose in my hand, my only thought was, "Where's the rest of it?"   This was followed by the exasperated suspicion that the zoo which had sent us the birds had botched things up and sent us chicks instead of adults, like we were supposed to get.

It didn't matter that I knew that these were the world's smallest waterfowl species.  It didn't matter that the weights that were listed on their incoming paperwork matched those that the books listed as being typical for an adult of the species.  My brain refused to believe it all.  It just looked at the little bird in my hand and thought, "That can't be right."

An ongoing source of amazement, amusement, and bemusement for me in working with animals is that nothing is ever as big, or as small, as it's supposed to be in my mind.  Usually, things are bigger than I expect them to be.  The first day that I worked with Amur tigers, or polar bears, or white rhinos, I felt dwarfed by the size and power of the animal that I was standing in front of.    As a very young child, my grandfather, knowing how much I loved animals, took me to a local fair to ride a pony - only for me to be unexpectedly terrified of just how huge it was (to three-year-old me).  It's that same feeling that I had the first time I walked up to an ostrich, and noticed that it was literally looking down at me.

Other animals struck me as smaller than I'd expect.  Sometimes, it's the case of an animal that is just really tiny, and I just didn't appreciate how tiny - like the pygmy geese.

Some animals only seem small in comparison to bigger animals that I already worked with.  I once unpacked a shipping box holding a pair of spiny-tailed monitor lizards, diminutive cousins of the Komodo dragon and crocodile monitor.  I knew that they were pygmy monitors, but I thought that they were "pygmies" in comparison to their giant relatives.  It never dawned on me that they'd be so small, so fragile, and so delicate as one sat comfortably in the palm of each hand.

Similarly, the first jaguar that I worked with seemed so tiny to me, compared to the lions and tigers that I'd worked with.  The first Andean bear that I cared for was dwarfed by the big bears that I was used to - and when sun bears came later, it was even more pronounced.  The reverse can be true too, of course.  I thought I was perfectly comfortable catching and handling cranes, having worked with sandhills and grey-crowned cranes for years... then I saw my first whooping crane, and changed my mind real fast.

What's funny to me is that some people I know outside of the field have gotten the majorly wrong idea of how big some animals are based on their own imagination.  I remember one college classmate who was disappointed to learn that giraffes were "only" 16-18 feet tall - he was expecting something in the 50 foot range.  

On a smaller scale, I can relate - when I first met a giant otter up close on a behind-the-scenes tour, I saw at once that it was much bigger than the North American river otters I was used to - but still not as big as I imagined.  Not that it wasn't still a cool experience.  In fact, one of my favorite parts of meeting a new species for the first time is discovering for the first time just how big - or small - the animal really is.

Coronavirus Continues

Last year, a handful of zoos reported cases of COVID-19 appearing in their big cats.  This year, we have our first documented cases of Coronavirus in great apes, with several gorillas at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park testing positive for the virus.  Being our closest relatives, it makes sense that apes such as gorillas would prove susceptible to the disease.  I guess this was really more of a "when" than an "if" situation.

The fact that we've made it a year into the pandemic before an ape came down with COVID is a testament to the precautions that keepers take when working with apes, usually already wearing PPE and staying home when sick.  Unfortunately, as we've seen, Coronavirus often presents itself asymptomatically, so it can be hard to determine if a staff member has it or not.  Testing and contact tracing still aren't were they need to be, and the vaccine rollout progresses slowly.

Thankfully, the symptoms displayed by the animals are mild and, as with the tigers, lions, and snow leopards at other zoos in the US, these animals are expected to recover fully.

Gorillas at California Zoo test positive for Covid-19

Species Fact Profile: African Pygmy Goose (Nettapus auritus)

                                                                African Pygmy Goose

Nettapus auritus (Boddart, 1783)

Range: Sub-Saharan Africa (Ethiopia to South Africa), Madagascar

Habitat: Freshwater Lakes and Ponds, Wetlands

Diet: Aquatic Plants, Seeds, Aquatic Invertebrates, Small Fish

Social Grouping: Pairs, Small Family Flocks

Reproduction:  Nest in tree cavities, termite mounds, or other holes.  Breeding is triggered by rainfall.  Females incubate clutch of 6-12 eggs for 2-4 weeks.  Both parents care for the young until the fledge at about 2 months.  Sexually mature at 2 years old.

Lifespan: 10-15 Years

Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern, CITES Appendix III

• The world’s smallest species of waterfowl (a title sometimes awarded to the Indian pygmy goose).  Body length 30-33 centimeters.   Weight 260-285 grams.  Males are slightly larger.  They have shortened bills, rounded heads, and short legs
• Males have a white face with black eye patches and an iridescent black crown, which extends down the back of the neck, with green ear patches.  The upper half of the neck is white, forming a collar, while the base of the neck and breast are chestnut color, growing richer on the flanks.  The back is metallic green, the belly is white.  The bill is yellow with a black tip, the feet are dark gray or black.  The iris is reddish-brown.·         
• Females are somewhat similar, but with a gray face and dark brown eye-stripe and a dark brown back.  The upper part of the bill is mottled brown.  Ducklings resemble adult females
• Primarily aquatic, not coming onto shore often.  Prefer roosting on partially submerged trees or on branches overhanging the water.  Primarily crepuscular, spending the day hiding among the water lilies
• Not migratory, but are somewhat nomadic, making movements in response to seasonal rains·         
• Despite the name, they are not closely related to geese, instead being named for their goose-like beak.  They are more closely allied to the dabbling ducks
• Threats include habitat loss caused by wetland drainage/siltation and the introduction of invasive species, as well as pollution from agricultural chemicals.  In Madagascar, they are in decline due to hunting pressure·        
• Shy and secretive, do not reproduce easily under human care.  They do their best in heavily vegetated habitats with access to several types of nest site.  Though they can be exhibited in indoor or outdoor habitats, they are cold-sensitive and need access to heat.  They are easily mixed with a variety of other species

Wallaby on the Loose

"Watch me wallabies feed, mate, watch me wallabies feed.

They're  a dangerous breed, mate, so watch me wallabies feed."

- Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport, Rolf Harris

As I said in the last post, one of the results of building your own exhibits is that, when something goes wrong, you have no one to blame but yourself.  Case in point:

I was working at a small, municipal zoo, building a series of Australian exhibits with my coworkers.  The city powers-that-be were in a hurry for results, so we made a group decision that, as each exhibit was completed, we would move the animals in and put them on display, then continue building the next part of the interconnected habitat.  We figured that it would show enough progress to keep folks off our backs while we worked.

With that philosophy in mind, we moved a small group of wallabies into their new habitat.  Then, we continued work on a bird exhibit immediately adjacent to them.  Everything seemed to be going fine.

It was a very mild winter day, which meant that a) we were unseasonably busy and b) we had relatively few keepers scheduled.  I was actually alone at the time, because it was lunch, and the other keepers that day decided to go off grounds for lunch.  Because there were so many guests on grounds, I thought it best to not take my lunch yet, but to be out where I could keep an eye on things and get some work done.  Being the lone keeper, I wouldn't have worked any of the dangerous animals like bears or big cats while I was by myself.  I figured I might as well clean up the wallaby yard, though.

I was just finishing up, pushing my wheelbarrow through the gate, when a brown streak zipped between my legs and out the door.  It was one of the young females in our group, a very tame individual who had opted to follow me out.  No big deal, I thought.  Most exhibits in the zoo were configured with a keeper area, double-door system that serves as a secondary level of contact if the animal follows the keeper out.  This wallaby had done this to me plenty of times when she was in her off-exhibit holding pen elsewhere in the zoo, waiting for the exhibit to be completed.

Except, I realized half a second later, we hadn't finished the keeper area here - it was part of the adjacent aviary construction.  Which meant that the wallaby was now loose in the zoo - and I was the only keeper.

The next half hour was a fun (for the wallaby, I guess, to say nothing of the visitors) chase as I sprinted around the zoo, alternately trying to catch the wallaby as well to get ahead of her and block her exit from the zoo - I was having terrified images of her bouncing out a gate, into the street, and under the wheels of a passing truck.  All the while, I was frantically going back and forth between my radio, trying to see if anyone was on grounds to help (it being the winter, concessions and gift shop were closed) and my phone, trying to get in touch with the other keepers to get them back from lunch.  I did manage to secure the assistance of one youth volunteer (who ran around a lot and accomplished little) and one part-time educator, who unexpectedly appeared to be terrified of animals.

The visitors, as one would expect, were no help whatsoever.  

Through dumb luck, I was able to corral the wallaby for long enough for the other keepers to get back - then we cornered her, grabbed her, and unceremoniously dumped her back in the pen.  We made an executive decision to finish a keeper area that afternoon, as soon as my pulse went back to below 200 bpm.  I called our director to let him know what had happened... and listened to him guffaw on the other end of the phone for a good five minutes.

That night, as I was grocery shopping after work, wondering what comfort food would best make me forgot the day, another keeper - one who was also in that day and had helped with the recapture - texted me a screenshot from Twitter.  Apparently, our mayor had tweeted early afternoon that he was taking advantage of the great weather to visit the zoo, and that everything looked great.  From the timestamp, it looked like he was there at the exact time that the wallaby was running amok, and never noticed a thing.

DIY Exhibits

When I pointed out a few exhibits at ZooAmerica that I wasn't crazy about, I wasn't trying to be hard on them.  Every zoo has one or two that the keepers can't stand.  The best solution would obviously be to rebuild them.  Depending on the size, scale, and species involved, that can be a project that either A) you need a major new capital campaign, a team of architects, and a few years of dedication to achieve... or B) you and some of your buddies knock out with some 2x4's and wire in between other jobs.

Sometimes you start with Option A, get frustrated when nothing happens, and then move onto Option B.  Sometimes you start with Option B, realize that you are dangerously in over your heads, and slink back to Option A.

We are all Homer Simpson, on some level... and not just the love of donuts.

I've always liked Option B because of the level of control and ownership that it gives you over your project - there are so many details that go into making a habitat for an animal that its nice to plan each one out yourself and not worry about what someone else might put into place.  

The problem, of course, is that I am awful at building things.  I have a perfectionist mind, but completely lack the skills to back it up.  I know exactly what I want the finished product to look like.  I just can't make it happen.

I've built (or at least helped more competent builders) on several exhibits over the years.  I've greatly enjoyed each project - though some, admittedly, took much, much longer to accomplish than I expected.... sometimes years.  That's not surprising - a professional contractor is building the enclosure as their actual job.  We keepers were hammering in a few nails and sawing a few boards between other jobs, all dependent on the animals.  Sometimes, weeks passed without us making an real progress.  Plus, we don't always know what we're doing.  I remember shamefacedly spending a morning taking down an entire row of boards that I'd put up just the day before after having it pointed out to be how crooked they all were.

I do always feel a tremendous amount of pride when I see an animal turned out into an enclosure that I just built.  There's always also a sense of dread and suspicion, like is it even possible that something that I built could actually keep an animal contained?  Am I sure that I put the wire roof up before letting the birds into the aviary?

Which does bring up one final aspect of DIY enclosure construction, though I'm not sure if I'd count it as a plus or minus -  you have no one else to blame if things do go wrong.

Zoo Review: ZooAmerica North American Wildlife Park, Part II

Continuing the review of ZooAmerica, we leave behind the temporarily-closed buildings and move into the outdoor exhibits, which are divided into three regions.

Eastern Woodlands profiles the wildlife found from Maine through Georgia along the Appalachian mountains.  Among the first exhibits encountered are a pair of raptor habitats, one for red-tailed hawks, one for common barn owl.   The motif of exhibiting barn owls in a barn is one that I've seen at many zoos before - I mean, the name begs for it - but Hershey's was the best that I'd ever seen.  It wasn't crammed into a building as an artistic afterthought, as I so often see, but was large, spacious, tall (allowing the birds to get up high above visitors to feel secure) and had natural light and air flow.  It might have been my favorite exhibit there.  Also featured in Eastern Woodlands are enclosures for river otter and bobcat and pens for wild turkey and white-tailed deer.  The largest habitat in the section is Black Bear Encounter where black bears can be viewed from an enclosed educational center which fronts a deep pool with underwater viewing.  I kind of got the impression that the exhibit was built mostly with the pool in mind, as the rest of the enclosure was kind of meh.  It wasn't a bad exhibit, per se, just one that I feel like could have used a little more furnishing, especially climbing structures.  Also, the terrain was a little awkward - so much of the land was built around the pool that it seemed like the entire habitat was one steep hill.

Next up is Big Sky Country, dominated by a large paddock home to pronghorn and sandhill crane.  I was surprised not to see American bison, that quintessential Great Plains zoo animal - the paddock was so huge I assumed that it was built for them.  I later learned about a flooding disaster some years ago when the park did have bison; one drowned and the other was euthanized to save it from drowning when they couldn't be evacuated.  I wonder if that had anything to do with their absence.  Northern ravens, black-tailed prairie dogs, and small raptor exhibits accompany the pronghorn paddock.  Along the perimeter is a hillside yard of American elk, as well as an enclosure of puma.  It was a fairly decent puma exhibit with lots of rocks for climbing and sheltering (there's a picture of the habitat at the bottom of this review - if you look carefully, you can see the cat).  If I had one issue with it, it was that it would have been great to have a viewing window for at least a section of the exhibit front - I have few pictures of ZooAmerica, largely because it was so hard to photograph many of the animals for exhibits.

The final section of the zoo is Northlands, depicting the boreal forests of Canada and Alaska.  A towering flight cage of bald eagles is the centerpiece of this area, with smaller aviaries for snowy owl and peregrine falcon nearby.  Grey wolves (not the Mexican subspecies, which the subject of a conservation breeding program and are the gray wolves most often seen in AZA facilities) have a large wooded yard - like the puma exhibit viewing can be a problem, but there are high vantage points from elsewhere in the park where you can observe them from over the tall fence.  I was less-impressed with the North American porcupine and Canada lynx exhibits, which struck me as a bit small and plain - though the lynx did have kittens at the time of my visit, so the enclosure can't be all bad.  Porcupines are one of those animals that I often feel like gets enclosures that are small and unimaginative, just a wooden pole sticking up in a small pen.  

Northlands was home to the one animal I was most eager to see here, and the one it took me most of my visit to finally spot - American marten.  I'd never seen one of these beautiful arboreal weasels before, and I wasn't willing to leave without spotting one.  I had to circle by several times before I did see one in its enclosure, a tall, mesh structure built overlooking the visitor pathway.  The exhibit was spacious for an animal that size and the animal was beautiful, active, and very engaging.  Again, I just wish it had been possible to get a clearer view.  Considering how mustelids such as martens are some of the species that are most susceptible to COVID, a solid barrier between them and human visitors would have been extra appropriate.

ZooAmerica provided a larger, more complete collection of American wildlife than I had expected, especially for what is essentially a plus-one to a candy factory theme park.  Most of the enclosures were decent, and the ones I disliked weren't horrible, and could probably be renovated or replaced without too much expense and effort.  There's enough pockets of space that there could be more development, putting up a few new habitats or replacing current ones.  Conservation was highlighted appropriately and the grounds were pleasant.  I would definitely be interested in coming back to see the buildings when they reopen after COVID.  Until then, I was just glad to drop a little support for a nice, small-town zoo during what has been a rough year for our profession.

Zoo Review: ZooAmerica North American Wildlife Park, Part I

First Zoo Review of 2021!  Sort of... monthly reviews aren't quite starting back up again.   In fact, I've only visited one new zoo since the pandemic began - this one.  Like most folks, I haven't been traveling much, certainly not outside of my state, and when I do make a trip to another zoo or aquarium for work reasons, it's usually very brief and without visiting with colleagues.  Still, I was on the road towards the end of the last year on a rare trip and, passing by, decided to stop in and see what it was like.  If nothing else, it was also interesting to do a visit to a zoo - as a guest - for the first time during the pandemic.

ZooAmerica is attached to Hershey Park, the theme park associated with the chocolate company for which the town is best known, and it was founded in 1910 by Milton Hershey, the founder of both the company and the town.  In its earlier years, the Hershey Zoo housed a full array of the expected zoo animals, including lions, leopards, monkeys, and, for a brief period, elephants.  Around 1980, the zoo was reimagined as ZooAmerica, focusing exclusively on the animals of North America.  The zoo is divided into five bio-regions, each containing wildlife from different parts of the continent.

Side note: Hershey Park itself features California sea lions as part of an aquatics show.  The sea lions are not part of ZooAmerica.  Also worth noting, admission to Hershey Park includes access to ZooAmerica - a monorail links the two attractions.  However, admission to the zoo does not equal admission to Hershey Park.  On my visit, I only got a ticket for the zoo (I wasn't even sure if the park was open due to COVID).

During my 2020 visit, the biggest impact of COVID-19 was that two of those five sections, each one essentially contained in a separate building, were closed for public health reasons.  These were the areas I was most eager to see; I've seen almost all of the larger American animals many times before, and it is when looking at smaller birds, reptiles, and amphibian collections that I'm most often able to see species that are new, or at least uncommon, to me.  Southern Swamps features marsh birds, snakes, and, of course, American alligators.  Great Southwest is dominated by an aviary that features roadrunners, quails, and other desert birds, with nearby terrariums displaying rattlesnakes, Gila monsters, and other herps of the southwest.  This building also features several small carnivore species - ocelot, white-nosed coati, ringtail, and black-footed ferret - as well as vampire bat (strictly speaking not an animal of the American southwest, but many of the bats that are native to that part of the country are insect-eaters, which are hard to maintain in zoos). 

I wasn't able to see anything of the swamp building, but was able to peer in through a few windows of the Great Southwest.  The aviary looked very handsome, and even from outside I was able to admire the roadrunners skittering about.  I was also able to look in on several of the terrariums, which had outdoor and indoor facing windows.  I was not able to see any of the mammal exhibits, which I was the most curious about.  I felt that it would have been nice if the two larger carnivore species - the ocelot and coati - had outdoor exhibit access (Hershey isn't alone in this - off the top of my head I can only remember seeing one outdoor ocelot exhibit in a US zoo, and many of the coati exhibits that I can think of have been indoor as well).  It would have been especially enjoyable under situations like this, where the building was closed to the public.  Plus, I'm just a big fan out outdoor access whenever possible.  As it was, the only residents of Great Southwest which do have an outdoor enclosure are the endangered thick-billed parrots, which occupy a small flight-cage behind the building.

Tomorrow, we'll go over the rest of the park... being the parts that were open as usual.

ZooAmerica North American Wildlife Park

The Call of the Karen

2020 saw the addition of many new words and phrases to our cultural lexicon - "social distancing," "herd immunity" (or "herd mentality"), "faithless electors," and many others, many related to the coronavirus pandemic, the election, or the racial justice protests of the summer.  One particular piece of online slang really jumped into the mainstream, to the point where I was even seeing it in headlines from major newspapers.

"Karen."

A "Karen", as defined by Urban Dictionary, is typically described as a middle-aged white woman who is insistent on getting her way and complains incessantly, often with a demand to speak to a manager.  Everyone who has ever worked in customer service (and yes, though we like to put on airs sometimes, we zoo and aquarium folks really do) has dealt with what could be described as a Karen.

The term has become fraught with charges of sexism (there is supposedly a less-often used male version, though no one can agree on what name it should be), not least of all from women who are actually named "Karen" (though I suspect we'll see far fewer of them in the future).  Tucker Carlson has indignantly called "Karen" an ethnic slur, likening it to "the n word," though to be honest if you can't even say "the n word," that to me suggests that that word is much worse.  Besides, Tucker Carlson is always indignant about anything... I digress.

Like many slang words that enter the public domain, this one can be distorted and overused, and some people go so far as to throw the label at anyone who raises any complaint or wants to speak to management, no matter how polite they are or how reasonable their concern is.

So, just throwing this out here for any zoo or aquarium visitors - it is okay to raise concerns and voices worries, dare I even say complaints.  Please be reasonable and polite, but if you see something that concerns you, you should be free to say it without ridicule.  If an animal looks bad, or an enclosure seems inadequate, it's fair game.  Sometimes things really are fine, and an explanation can be offered that satisfies everyone.  I had a woman who was very concerned one day that our turtles didn't have any water.  I explained that it was because they were desert tortoises and all they needed was some drinking water, not a pond that they could drown in.  Problem solved.  Or, a visitor raises a concern about an animal that is limping or seems worn.  Letting them know that the animal is just elderly and/or under veterinary care tells them that the situation is being taken care of and no one is being left to suffer.

Thank them for caring.  It's better than them not caring.  Sometimes, visitors who raise concerns are the first ones to let us know of a problem.  They have a lot more eyes than we do.

Not all concerns are animal related, either.  We may think that a facility is accessible, but a person in a wheelchair may let us know that no, it really isn't.  If that's their actual experience, who are we to argue with it?

Some complaints are ridiculous (no, I am not putting shock-collars on the animals to keep them from breeding in front of your kids - they have to learn sometime), some are delivered rudely, and some are downright malicious.  Those we can deal with one on one.  But we should never discourage visitors from making their voices heard.  Sometimes, complaints are the oil that greases the wheels of progress.

Jungle Jack Hangs Up His Hat

Well, three days into 2021 and so far no earth-shattering disasters.  I'll take it as a good start.  As the new year begins, there is one familiar face who won't be helping to steer the zoo and aquarium community into the future.  After 42 years (including his tenure as Director Emeritus) at the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium, Jungle Jack Hanna is hanging up his hat.

Hanna is responsible in large part for taking a small, relatively obscure zoo in Powell, Ohio and turning it into one of the largest, most progressive, and often regarded as best zoos in America, certainly one of the best in the central part of the country.  It's growth and progress continues to unfold with the opening of new exhibits, such as last year's Adventure Cove.  His impact was most visible in the world of zoo education - for every visitor who walked through the gates of the Columbus Zoo, there were scores more who made Hanna's acquaintance on a TV screen.

Jungle Jack Hanna retires from Columbus Zoo

Hanna followed in the footsteps of other zoo TV personalities, such as Marlin Perkins, but greatly expanded the popular appeal of zoos, bringing animals onto TV programs with a groundbreaking ambassador program, as well as bringing TV to the animals.  Towards the end of his career, Columbus became one of many zoos across the nation to have its own TV show, depicting life behind the scenes caring for the animals.  I attribute the recent rebound in popularity for zoos and aquariums in no small part on shows like these.

Jack Hanna's 42 years at Columbus witnessed so many changes outside of the TV studio, from advances in zoo husbandry and care standards (resulting, in part, in the first birth of a gorilla in a zoo, which was also part of Hanna's legacy) to an increased involvement, in some cases leadership, with conservation efforts in the wild.

Enjoy retirement, Mr. Hanna.  If you get bored with golf or whatever, remember - the zoo is still there.

Welcome to 2021

 

Congratulations - if you read this, then you survived 2020!