Social Distancing Is For the Birds

Earlier this year, I witnessed the periodical cicada explosion throughout the eastern US, and thought to myself, "It's a good time to be a bird."

Maybe not so much, after all.

A mysterious disease is ripping through songbird populations in the region, presenting itself in the form of crusty, swollen eyes with weeping discharge.  The disease, which has been observed in a number of species, has yet to be identified, and as such scientists aren't quite sure what's responsible for it.  As usual, there are lots of theories, many of them uninformed, bandying around, but hopeful the mystery will be solved soon.

In the meantime, if you live in a region in which similar symptoms are being observed, there is something that you can do to help, though it may seem counterintuitive - take down your birdfeeder.  Clean it thoroughly with some bleach, then pack it away for a while.  This time of year, there is plentiful food for birds elsewhere, but like us, birds are lazy and will go for the easy-to-find, always-reliable birdfeeders first - and there, they can congregate in large numbers.  Just like coronavirus, this disease is easily transmissible in these close-quarters, hastening its spread.  By not encouraging birds to congregate in dense crowds, we can slow the spread of this disease.

Mysterious Bird Illness Prompts Bird Feeder Warning From Officials

It's an idea that's getting some pushback from people who love birds (or at least people who believe that they do).  Songbirds have such a tough time these days, what with window collisions and pesticides and stalking outdoor cats.  It's tempting to want to do whatever we can to give them a leg up (wing up?).  Sometimes, though, the kindest gesture can have negative consequences, and in these cases we have to do what's best for the birds, not what makes us feel better about ourselves.

Photo Credit: Virginia Department of Wildlife Resources

Gorilla, Meet Snake

Man, I know Hollywood has taken a hit this last year, but this Kong vs Godzilla reboot is looking really low budget...

I love snakes, but I can't help but notice that plenty of people decidedly don't.  And not just people, too - a fear of the scaly and legless seems pretty ingrained in the minds of many of our primate cousins.  Working as a zoo educator in a past job, I made a point of not walking past our monkey exhibits when carrying a boa constrictor or ball python out to meet and greet the public - it just seemed to upset and agitate the monkeys too much.

Of course, in those cases the snake was outside of the exhibit and some distance away from the hysterical primates.  This video clip from Disney's Animal Kingdom gives you an idea of just how terrified even the biggest of primates can be towards the smallest of snakes.

Ah well, natural enrichment.

Shoo Fly, Don't Bother Me

Summer at the zoo means crowds, heat, sleepy animals... and, perhaps above all else, flies.  Of these seasonal delights, the flies might be my biggest pet peeve.  How serious of a problem they are depends on where you are in the zoo and what animals you work with.  If you're in the reptile house, you might not notice them.  Work with, say, elephants or giraffes, and you might as well keep a fly swatter attached to your belt.  Not that it'll be much use for swatting the flies on your animals.  Well, not politely, anyway

Flies can swarm unattended diets (which is why we tend to remove leftover diets - especially meat and fish ones - as soon as we can) and bother animals.  Most worryingly, though, they can lay their eggs in even the tiniest of open wounds.  And then you get maggots.   In case you were wondering, that's very unpleasant to deal with.  I'll spare you the pictures.

To combat flies, we can use traps, we can take hygienic steps (like removing the uneaten diets and cleaning poop frequently), and we can spray fly spray on the animals.  The success of that option depends on the willingness of the animal to be sprayed.  Very shy, skittish animals won't let you get close enough to apply the spray, so a lot of training and trust-building goes into the process.  Unfortunately, no matter what you do, when you deal with large animals that poop a lot, flies are inevitable, no matter what you do.  In the wild, some animals wallow in mud or swim in water to avoid them, so we provide those opportunities.  In other cases, animals in the wild just have to suffer and deal with it, sometimes seemingly driven mad by the hordes of insects.

The image above was shared by Utah's Hogle Zoo in Salt Lake City, showing their southern white rhino, Princess.  The contraption on the rhino's face is a series of horse masks, which are meant to protect the animal's face from flies.

Book Review: Birdmania

"It's easy for observers to project human experiences onto birds and get incredibly emotional about them.  At a deeper level, however, people who devote themselves to birds open themselves up to the beauty of creatures that live their lives according to the mysterious, alien laws.  It's almost as though birds inhabit an alternative realty  Despite the divide - or perhaps because of it - engaging with them brings many people great joy."

Like many zookeepers, I was slow to come around to birds.  I originally wanted to be a carnivore keeper, then a reptile keeper, then a hoofstock keeper, and then back around to reptiles again.  Then, I went through a small mammal phase.  For reasons that I can't explain, I'm proud that I never got into primates.  Birds were background noise to me in those days (often literally) - something bright and colorful that you put in an exhibit that was primarily devoted to other, more interesting animals.

Once I started really paying attention to birds, however, I was hooked.  They've become absolute favorites of mine, to the point where I've started primarily judging many zoos based on their bird collections.  Now, I often find myself in the position of being irked when confronted by people who just don't appreciate how cool birds really are.

Bernd Brunner gets that.  Actually, a lot of people do.  In Birdmania: A Remarkable Passion for Birds, the nature writer takes us on a very quick, scatter-shot tour of our shared history with birds.  He recounts the many ways in which birds have entranced us over the years, from the mysterious bird of paradise skins which European explorers brought back to their homelands centuries ago, completely baffled as to what they were looking at, to the pet birds that share our homes with us.  He also introduces an interesting cast of human characters who have spent their lives devoted to birds - sometimes with fatal, disastrous consequences for the birds... or, in a handful of cases, for the humans themselves.

I'd read Brunner's previous work on Bears, so was curious what he had to say about birds.  The answer seemed to be, a lot, but not much, really.  The book is too all-over-the-place for me, jumping around as a series of anecdotes and historical vignettes haphazardly strung together.  At the same time, I feel that there are so many important and more interesting stories that could have been woven into the book but were not.  As a zoo person, I was especially shocked that there was basically no mention of zoos - the California condor and whooping crane alone could have been a chapter.  You're going to write a book about people who are fascinated about birds and not give mention to people who devote their lives to breeding, rearing, and releasing endangered birds?  Or the facilities in which most people have their only in-person encounters with flamingos, penguins, parrots, and many of the other most recognizable bird species on the planet?

Even more surprising, there really was no mention of domestic birds - ducks, geese, turkeys, and, above all, chickens - the species which we have most intimate connection with.  It honestly felt like Brunner had just come across a few stories and thought, "Yeah, I could get a book out of this."

The book is full of lovely illustrations (it was the cassowary on the cover which originally caught my eye), but these don't do much other than take up space, and certainly don't contribute much to the text.  This book might be worth mining for a fun story or two, but I feel that birds, as a group, deserve a better biography than this.

Birdmania: A Remarkable Passion for Birds on Amazon.com

Jabba the Hungry

 In zoos and aquariums, turtles and crocodilians go together like peanut butter and jelly, often sharing exhibits.  The hard-shelled reptiles are some of the few animals that crocodiles and alligators can usually be housed with without risk of being eaten.  I've seen several peaceable living arrangements from over the years, such as alligator snapping turtle with American alligator and painted terrapin with gharial.  Not all of these arrangements are peaceable, however - and trouble doesn't always come from the quarter you'd expect it.

I'm specifically remembering one crocodile exhibit that I took care of, which was home to a pair of crocodiles in the 9-10 foot range, a dozen or so African mud turtles, and a school of colorful cichlid fish, all living together harmoniously.  The harmony was shattered the day that we introduced a new resident to the mix - a Nile softshell turtle who we'll call "Jabba."

Jabba was enormous, approaching four feet across the shell and looking like an enormous green, rubbery pancake with feet and a head.  She had been recently been donated to our zoo, having spent years as a private pet before ballooning to her current size and appetite, both of which her owner found to be unmanageable. 

I got to test Jabba's size myself shortly after her arrival at the zoo.  After clearing her mandatory quarantine in the Zoo Hospital, Jabba was being carried to her new exhibit  in a bathtub carried by another keeper and myself.   The last step to getting her into the exhibit was to carry her up the rickety wooden stairs that led to the service door - I, foolishly, offered to go first.  About half way up, Jabba decided that she wanted out.  The next thing that I knew, I had an enormous turtle climbing onto my shoulder, clawed feet scrambling to find a foothold in my back.  Not finding any, she began to try and make some, with painful success.  Her weight was almost unbearable as it throbbed up and down my spine, while my colleague in the rear, unable to do anything for fear of dropping the tub, did what I would have probably done in the same situation.  He froze - and then laughed.

When we finally got Jabba settled into the crocodile exhibit, it took her little time to establish her dominance.  She had no fear of her larger exhibit mates.  If anything, they came to fear her.  Driven by an overwhelming hunger, she let nothing stand between her stomach and that which could fill it.  The crocodile feedings soon became much more daunting, and through no fault of the crocodiles.  Jabba would belligerently charge into their midst and take what she considered her due, regardless of our having fed her before.  Things could get dicey.

On one occasion that I fed them early on in Jabba's residence, the male crocodile swam up to the shoreline and opened his jaws, patiently waiting for a rat to be deposited as was his custom.  Suddenly, there was a flash of bluish-green, as Jabba rammed her flabby neck into his open jaws and snatched the skinned rodent from his very mouth.  Crocodilians are thought to have quite a poker face, being fairly fixed of facial features.  Nevertheless, in that moment I swear that I saw shock, disgust, and outrage in equal parts on the face of the male crocodile.  This was to be typical of Jabba's feeding frenzies.

The turtle was almost suicidal in her hunger.  The situation could very well have ended life right then and there, had the horrified croc decided to chomp down anyway.  I certainly wouldn’t have blamed him.  The tiny nicks that would eventually appear periodically along Jabba's soft shell indicated that the crocs weren’t always so tolerant.

Unfortunately, Jabba's appetites weren't satisfied by fish and rodents.  When the female crocodile began to build a nest and lay eggs, it took Jabba very little time to plow into the mound of vegetation and start feasting on the eggs.  That was the last straw.  She was promptly placed on the surplus list and banished to another zoo.  She lived out her life happily there, perhaps achieving something close to a sated appetite.  I must say, I'm pretty sure our crocodiles were much happier too.

Species Fact Profile: Nile Softshell Turtle (Trionyx triunguis)

                                                                  Nile Softshell Turtle

Trionyx triunguis (Forskal, 1775)

Range: Eastern, Western, and Central Africa, Southwest Asia

Habitat: Freshwater and brackish permanent bodies of water.  Tolerant of seawater for periods of time

Diet: Small Fish, Crustaceans, Carrion, Fruits, Leaves.  Will opportunistically eat small mammals, smaller turtles

Social Grouping:  Solitary, Loose Groups

Reproduction:  Nesting occurs March-July (depends on location).  Female lays 25-100 eggs per season, with nest holes dug in earthen sandbanks.  Incubation period 60-80 days.  Hatchling sex determined genetically, not by incubation temperature.  Hatchlings are about 4.5 centimeters long and weigh 10-12 grams

Lifespan: Up to 50 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Vulnerable, CITES Appendix II

•      One of the largest softshell turtles, shell length 85-95 centimeters, with a maximum (unconfirmed) length of 120 centimeters.  Weigh up to 40 kilograms
•      Skin and carapace are brown/olive green in color, covered with white spots, which in turn sometimes have yellow rings around them.  Plastron is white
•      Shell is covered with thick, leathery skin.  Skin around mouth is especially thick.  Nose is upturned and snorkel-like.  Males differ from females in having longer, thicker tails
•      Seldom leave the water, even preferring to bask in shallow water rather than on shore
•      Capable of staying underwater longer than many turtles due to their ability to extract some oxygen from the water through their skin
•      In decline due to loss of habitat (especially due to irrigation, damming, and pollution from oil spills), destruction/disturbance of nest sites, and accidental death due to fishing activities (i.e, getting caught in shrimp nets).  Some hunting for meat and for shells.  Fishermen may also kill them as perceived competitors
•      Populations along the Mediterranean coast are considered to be especially in decline.  Turtles in this region may nest alongside sea turtles and benefit from protection for those species

The Power of the Pull

The biggest stressors (or, if you prefer, "keeper enrichment items") at the zoo seldom come in the form of animals... or even guests.  They are the kinky hoses that refuse to coil properly.  The muck forks which have just *enough* tines left on them that they could, theoretically, work, while actually lacking enough they, in effect, they do not.  And, one of my personal favorites...

Old Man Penguin's Fancy-Pants Shoes

Now for something a little more light-hearted, I found this one in the wild, so to speak... 

 

Fall of the Wild

Public radio recently ran a special on the morality of zoos, featuring Dan Ashe, President of the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, and Emma Marris, the author of a new book which opposes zoos.  To an extent, I always hate giving air space to anti-zoo folks with opinions which are, and I'm being generous here, half-baked (and let's not lose sight of the fact that the goal here is to push her upcoming book).  Still, I think it's important to understand what the opposition is thinking, so here it is for anyone who wants to hear it.

A lot can be debated about the moral cost of "captivity" I suppose - but it pales in comparison to the moral cost of extinction.  If I were asked whether to accept the current world as it is, or one in which the dodo, Tasmanian tiger, Caribbean monk seal, quagga, Carolina parakeet, and a host of other recently-extinct species were still with us, but only in zoos and aquariums, I would unhesitatingly chose that second option.

Fall of the Wild: Zoos, Conservation, and the Moral Cost of Captivity

Photo Credit: Spencer Plat/Getty Images

Satire: Snake's Revenge

 

Imagining life with the shoe on the other foot - which can be kind of tough when we're talking about an animal that doesn't even have feet.  Found circulating on Facebook, seems to be attributed to George Grillo, but I'm more than happy to correct if I'm wrong.

A Day at the Hospital

 A Day at the Denver Zoo Hospital (Denverite)

I usually write about keeper side of the zoo, since that's what I'm most familiar with, though I have worn a few other hats over the years.  I don't tend to write much about the vet perspective, in large part because, even after all this time, I still have a kind of murky idea as to what it is they do.  Possibly it's a continuation of my childhood rebellion against every well-meaning-yet-thoroughly-annoying adult who tried to shoehorn any kid who loved animals into becoming a vet.

This article by Denverite shows life inside Denver Zoo's excellent new hospital, which allows visitors the chance to better understand how the animals are cared for.  It explains most things much better than I could.  Unique among many zoo hospitals (though becoming more common), this one is partially open to the public, allowing the public a glimpse of what goes on when the animals have to go to the doctor.  

Sometimes (as in the case in the article, spoiler alert), hard decisions have to be made, and those don't always make everyone happy.  It's commendable that zoos like Denver are willing to share an insight into the process so that people can understand why zoos do what they do in terms of animal care decisions.

Denver Zoo vet staff prepare to run a CT scan on Koko the prehensile-tailed porcupine.  June 12, 2021.  Kevin J. Beaty/Denverite

Sneak Peeks

When I visit a zoo for the first time, I usually like to go first thing in the morning, as soon as they open.  The weather is usually pleasant, the crowds thin, and the animals at their most active.  When I visited the Sunset Zoo recently, I got there a few minutes before opening and was alone in the parking lot.  Well, not exactly "alone" - my zoo-viewing experience began before I made it through the turnstile.

Situated right along the perimeter fence, with no visual barriers, was the colobus exhibit, and as I stood watching, one of the monkeys poked its head out the door from its indoor holding, watching me.  After a moment or so, he decided that I was boring (accurate) and ducked back inside.  Still, it made me happy - it felt like I had a preview of the zoo.  It also made me wonder how many people in this town knew about this, and would swing by occasionally not to go into the zoo, but just to see if the monkeys were out and wanted to say hello.

I've seen a few similar exhibits that are accessible  outside the zoo, such as the harbor seal exhibit above, located just outside the New England Aquarium and visible to anyone strolling down the wharf.  I like the idea of letting the public have a peak at animals, possibly when the zoo or aquarium isn't even open.  A trip to the zoo (and especially aquarium) can be expensive, and not everyone can afford to go too often.  It's nice to offer a little something to members of the public who might not have the time or money or flexibility to duck in for a full-visit.  Even if they can afford it, but might not have the time, it could add a little color and magic to the day.  I saw a few folks in Boston who looked like they were in the habit of bringing lunch down by the aquarium so they could sit and watch the seals before going back to work.

I'd just throw out a few caveats.  The animals should have the opportunity to avoid the public outside the zoo, just as they should have the ability to avoid the visitors inside the zoo.  The animals should be safe from harassment and intimidation.  There should be sufficient barriers between the animals and the outside public - two rows of fencing separated the colobus at Sunset from the folks in the parking lot. Perhaps such exhibits could be put on view only during the open hours, when they can be reasonably monitored (for example, an aquarium with a large fish tank visible from outside, but which could be protected from vandals by drawing down a metal garage door over the glass at night).

I'm not sure if the colobus were meant to be on display like that at Sunset, or if they just hadn't gotten around to putting some shade cloth or other visual barriers up on that section of fence.  I didn't get the impression that it was a deliberate exhibit decision (no signage, landscaping, anything).  Still, it was a nice start to the day.  By the time I walked through the zoo and made my way to the (public) side of their exhibit, I felt like we'd already met.

Zoo Review: Sunset Zoo

"Animals are living artwork no man can reproduce."

- E. J. Frick, Founder/Director, Sunset Zoo

They say that when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade.  Well, if life gives a city a plot of land to build a cemetery on, but the ground is too stony to actually dig graves... build a zoo?  That's what the city of Manhattan, Kansas did in 1933 when the land it purchased to build the Sunset Cemetery instead began its life as the Sunset Zoo.  It's a relatively modest-sized zoo, as one would expect from a fairly small town, but not a crowded one - exhibits are spaced out in a large park let setting, giving visitors chances to wander and loose themselves between the animals.

The zoo is loosely broken into a series of geographic area, the first of which is Africa.  Black-and-white colobus and chimpanzees have an outdoor exhibit each attached to a small primate building.  The outdoor exhibits are decently sized, though I feel that each could benefit from more vertical complexity in the way of climbing structures.  The indoor space was a bit on the dingy side, a little cramped and darker than I would have liked to see.  The trail then meanders down to a pair of large, open yards for two African predators, cheetahs and spotted hyenas.  These yards I though were excellent, very spacious and with considerable depth (many cheetah exhibits I see are long and thin, which I feel like doesn't give the cats sufficient space to get back from visitors).  The hyenas especially struck me as very personable, and I've never been closer to one than I was at Sunset (perhaps a little too personable - there was signage at the front of the exhibit telling visitors not to bother the hyenas, so I suspect that if I were there on a busier day, I might have seen/heard kids running the front of the exhibit or whooping at the hyenas.

Australia was represented with a walk-through wallaby exhibit, where red-necked and parma wallabies hop across the path.  Emus are confined to a side yard.  There is a small but very attractive walk-through aviary, with visitors confined to one side overlooking a small billabong patrolled by black swans.  Kookaburra, straw-necked ibis, and rarely-exhibited silver gulls can also be seen here.

A second walk-in aviary marks the start of the South American section, housed American flamingos.  Not that I ever see them fly, but I do always appreciate seeing flamingos in covered aviaries instead of being in open pens and flight restricted.  At the very least, it allows them to be outdoors 24/7, safe from nocturnal predators.  A path loops around another pond, home to black-necked swans and crested screamers, with a side-pen for red-footed tortoise.  Titi monkeys, poison dart frogs, and a boa constrictor occupy a small building nearby.  The monkeys have an adjacent outdoor enclosure.

The entrance to the Kansas Plains is marked by a large exhibit of prairie dog, turkey vulture, and box turtle.  It didn't have nearly as many prairie dogs as I often see in zoo prairie dog towns, which might explain why this exhibit actually had grass.  

As it happens, that's all I was able to see of the Kansas Plains.  The remainder of that exhibit (along with part of South America, the part with the largest animals - giant anteater, maned wolf, and Chacoan peccary) was closed due to construction.  The zoo is in the finishing up its new Expedition Asia, which will bring a mixture of new and old favorite animals back to the zoo  - sloth bears, tigers, Amur leopard, red panda, lar gibbon, and small-clawed otters among them - when it opens later this year.   It's the first step in a masterplan which will almost completely re-invent the zoo, brining in many new species and greatly expanding some habitats.  A reptile house will hopefully be included, as the zoo has almost no reptiles, amphibians, fish, or invertebrates on display.

I was sorry that my trip timing didn't coincide with the opening of Asia.  Still, this was my first new zoo in nearly a year, so I was just glad to be there.  I had not expected to see such an excellent little zoo in this little university down.  Sunset is definitely worth keeping an eye on as it grows and rebuilds itself.

Sunset Zoo

A Spring Walk In The Zoo

I had a wonderful day a few weeks ago - I went for a visit to the zoo.  Ok, that sounds a little silly on the face of it.  I mean, I work at a zoo.  Since I graduated from college, the number of days that I have been at the zoo have greatly outnumbered the number of days that I haven't.  I've joked to friends that I think I spend more time there than some of the animals do.

It's also not unusual for me to go to other zoos and aquariums.  In pre-COVID times (which really does feel a lot longer ago than it was), I'd often go to a dozen or so facilities a year.  Sometimes it was for work, either for conferences or for animal transportation purposes.  Sometimes it was for pleasure, either part of another trip I'd be taking with someone, or a trip specifically made to see a zoo or aquarium that I wanted to go to.   In the case of the later, the trips were often focused around something special I really wanted to see - the whale sharks of Georgia Aquarium, the Sumatran rhino at Cincinnati - or to visit a colleague.  No pressure to do or see anything or anyone for the trip to be "a success."

Last month, though, I had the chance to go to a zoo that I had never been to before.  It was a small zoo.  I didn't know anyone who worked there - honestly, I'd barely heard of if before.  There were no strikingly unusual animals there - nothing I hadn't seen before at a half-dozen zoos, anyway.  But, I'd been unable to travel for so long.  I hadn't visited any zoos in 2020 for purely recreational purposes (and only one new zoo that entire year), so I was eager to go - and to go without any higher purpose in mind that just being there.

It was nice. 

I got there around opening time on a weekday, when it was quiet and mostly empty.  Slowly, relatively purposelessly, I just drifted through.  I stopped at each exhibit until I found the animal, and if that animal was up and about doing something, I stood and watched for as long as I wanted.  I read the signs and admired the artwork scattered around the grounds.  I noted the planted gardens, and stopped to sniff a flower or two.  When wild birds flitted by, I stopped to watch them as well.  When I left, a few hours later, I'd felt that I'd really seen and experienced the place.

Very often, when thinking about and talking about and writing about (and working in) zoos, I get wrapped up in heady topics, like conservation and animal welfare and social politics and all that... and all that is important.  When I walk around grounds, I fret, checking on the animals (do they seem happy?  Do they seem healthy?) and the guests (Are they behaving?  Are they enjoying themselves?  Are they being safe?).  Sometimes, though, it's nice just to have a little mindfulness - to actually see the zoo and the animals in it.

Thousands of years ago, before "zoos" were even a formalized concept, and before conservation and education became key concepts, our ancestors (well, the rich ones, anyway), built the first menageries because, deep down, they understood the simple truth that it is very pleasant to spend time in the company of animals.  It can be good to revisit that truth.

Good Stress, Bad Stress

One of the highlights of a visit to the zoo or aquarium is the chance to see animals engaging in cool behavior.  In their natural state, many of the most exciting behaviors are driven by animals trying to procure food, or animals trying to prevent themselves from becoming food.

In the case of the former, it's often possible to redirect that energy and behavior in predatory animals towards another outlet.  Wolves, wild dogs, and cheetahs can chase ziplines.  Big cats can stalk, charge, and pounce on papier-mâché giraffes and zebras.  Carcass feeding provides a natural outlet for the actual act of consuming prey.  And for animals that prey on insects... well, it sounds harsh, but not many people care too much for the feelings of crickets.

It's trickier when the issue is animals with defensive behaviors.  Predators, after all, generally like to... well, predate.  Your dog loves to chase things.  Your cat loves to pounce.  Even in the wild, predators will play hunt, especially when they are young.  Prey animals typically only go through their defensive motions when they are upset.  That means that showing them off in a zoo setting might require putting the animal under stress, which is not something a lot of zoos would want to do.

I find horned lizards fascinating - but have never seen one shoot blood out of its eyes, one of the more unique animal defense adaptations

Of course, you could make an argument that life in the wild is stressful, and that having to sometimes display those behaviors is replicating a natural lifestyle for the animals.  Is it healthier for the animals to be able to display these behaviors from time to time?  Would it keep them from getting bored?  If a species is slated for eventual reintroduction into the wild, does it behoove the zoo to prepare them for a world in which predators and other unpleasant sources of... well... death occur?  Is there "good stress" vs "bad stress"?

I would say that there is.  The differences would be 1) how long does the stressor last and 2) is there anything that the animal can do about it, either to overcome it or to evade it?

That doesn't mean we unnecessarily startle an animal for giggles, just so guests can see a frilled lizard frill up, or an armadillo roll into a ball, or a Tennessee fainting goat faint.  Instead, it means that we should be willing to put animals in situations where they have the option of utilizing a range of their natural behaviors, with the understanding that sometimes they might react in a way that indicates some displeasure, maybe even fear or anger.  

From an educational perspective, video screens or QR codes and apps can provide a substitute for displaying some behaviors which would be too stressful or dangerous for the animal to perform (at least regularly) in a zoo setting.

Species Fact Profile: Frilled Lizard (Chlamydosaurus kingii)

                                                            Frilled Lizard

Chlamydosaurus kingii (Gray, 1825)

Range: Southern New Guinea, Northern Australia

Habitat: Tropical Savannah, Open Woodland, Semi-Desert

Diet: Arthropods, Small Rodents and Lizards

Social Grouping:  Solitary

Reproduction:  Breed in the early wet season (September through October).  Females lay 1-2 clutches of up to 25 soft-shelled eggs a few months after breeding (November-February) in a burrow in a sunny area.  Incubation takes 2-3 months, with incubation temperature determining offspring sex.

Lifespan: 10-15 Years (Wild), 20 Years (Captivity)

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern

• Body length up to 85 centimeters.  500 grams to 1 kilogram.  Males larger than females.
• Brown-gray coloration with irregular dark splotches (sometimes of an orange or red color), giving the appearance of mottled tree bark
• Namesake feature is the large fold of skin, usually laying flat behind the head but capable of being erected into a fan-like display (about 30 centimeters across) when startled or angered.  The frill is bright red or orange on the inside, which, coupled with the gaping pink or yellow interior of the lizard's mouth, can startle predators and intimidate rivals.  The frill is supported by spines of cartilage which are connected to the jawbones 
• Primarily arboreal.  Usually comes to the ground just to feed or engage in territorial conflict.  If startled on the ground, capable of running bipedally (though usually move on all four legs)
• Adult males fight for access to females.  If displays do not intimidate one of the combatants into standing down, they will bite each other aggressively
• Predators include birds of prey, monitor lizards, large snakes, and quolls, as well as introduced dingoes
• Scientific name translates to "King's Cloaked Lizard," honoring early Australian explorer Phillip Parker King, who collected the first specimens for western science

Zookeeper's Journal: One of the most iconic scenes of the blockbuster sci-fi movie "Jurassic Park" features the villainous Dennis Nedry being confronted by a predatory Dilophosaurus.  Shortly before attacking, the dinosaur fans out a massive, colorful thrill, terrifying its victim before pouncing and devouring him.  The frill (which there is no fossil evidence of) is the hallmark of the frilled lizard, one of the most remarkable and visually striking of Australia's lizards.  I've worked with this species at two zoos and seen it in several others - and yet I've never actually seen one frill up.  I've noticed a lot of zoo animals don't display their defensive behaviors because they are comfortable with their caretakers and don't feel threatened, which is a good thing, of course, but slightly disappointing if you were hoping to witness a really cool behavior.  Even on the one occasion when an irate frilly (as they are often called) objected to being weighed and nipped me when I picked it up, there was no frill.  In fact, the closest I ever saw to the behavior being displayed was when I would tong-feed them pinky mice as a special treat, which they absolutely loved.  They had to be tong-fed these favored items or the male (housed with a trio of females) would monopolize them all.  Right before taking a mouse, each lizard would make a sort of hiccup-motion, presumably of excitement, and the frill would flicker out a little bit - but only a little, and only for a second.

Satire: If Keepers Ran Jurassic Park

Competence never makes as good of a movie as incompetence, nor good luck as good of a movie as bad luck.  The fictitious theme park "Jurassic Park" was plagued with both problems.  Still, it's fun for keepers to imagine what could have been if they'd been given their chance to take care of dinosaurs... though to be honest, I'm having a hard time imagining even the most hard-core carnivore keeper I know being ok with the idea of shoving a single, let alone several, live goats inside a pumpkin (even if a pumpkin the size of a Volkswagen Beetle could be found for the purpose).

The Musical Rhino

 

Not all of the enrichment offered to animals is "natural," as evidenced by this Indian rhino at the Denver Zoo, playing on a keyboard.  I had a purist phase when I was younger that would have hated this, seeing it as a slippery-slope back to when chimpanzees wore dresses and had tea parties.  

These days, I take a more laid-back view.  Zoos aren't 100% natural environments, and can't rely on 100% natural enrichment to make the animals content (and it's not like the diets or vet care are "natural" either).  

Besides, rhinos are smart, curious animals that often investigate novelties in their environment.  If you were to drop off a keyboard in the middle of Nepal's Chitwan National Park, I'm sure it wouldn't take too long for a rhino or elephant to toddle up to investigate it, maybe compose their own melody.  Or smash it.  Either way, something would happen with it.

From the News: Tucsonan Rick Dyson 'changed the world for animals'

Tucsonan Rick Dyson built natural zoo habitats 'changed the world for animals'

If there's one thing I've harped on over and over in this blog, it's that zoos aren't just animals, or the buildings that hold them.  They are the people who work there, forming a community that supports the institution and its mission.  And not just the keepers and vets, who we most often think of, but the educators, groundskeepers, commissary, security, maintenance, office support staff, and administration.  It takes a village to run a zoo.  Some people flit in and out of the field without making much of a difference - or, sometimes, making a bad difference.  Other people come in and change everything.

Among those folks was Rick Dyson, who recently departed.

Dyson was a visionary architect of natural zoo exhibit design, who practiced his trade at zoos across the country, from Seattle to Atlanta.  He's probably best known for his pioneering work at the Arizona- Sonora Desert Museum, creating habitats that were so seamless with the surrounding desert that at times it was difficult to tell where the desert ended and the zoo began.  His work was a tremendous boon the quality of life of zoo animals, the experience and education of visitors, and the conservation efforts of zoos everywhere.  He will be missed.  His work lives on in the continued efforts of zoos to rebuild themselves into havens for wildlife.

Socially Distant Goats

By now, just about all of our zoos and aquariums are reopened to the public following what will hopefully be the worst of the coronavirus pandemic.  That doesn't mean everything is completely back to normal, though.  Mask mandates and capacity limits are still in effect in some places.  Sensitive animals still need to be vaccinated.  And some exhibits haven't yet reopened.

Among the last things to reopen will probably be animal contact areas - especially places where visitors can come into contact with mammals.

It's varying from zoo to zoo and species to species.  I recently paid a visit to a zoo and was surprised - a little pleased, a little nervous - to see that animal contact areas were open.  Visitors were feeding lorikeets and petting stingrays, all with great pleasure.  At that same zoo, I noticed additional barriers in front of COVID-sensitive species, such as cats and otters.  At another zoo I visited, the giraffe feeding station and petting yard with goats were closed.  Many places are suspending encounters with animal ambassadors, or behind-the-scenes tours.  Every place has different levels of comfort with settling back to a new normal.  For some places, this might be the new normal.  I've heard a few vets voice concern about ever going back to allowing visitors to interact with some animals, or at east scaling it back.

I have no idea what the new normal will look like - maybe we go back to things exactly as they were, maybe ambassador cheetahs become a thing of the past.  Whatever happens, I'm sure we'll adjust.  We've made it this far, after all...