Stop Eating My Ivermectin

Last year, when the train-wreck that was Tiger King hit Netflix, I remember being repulsed, but also slightly weirded out.  Not in the same way that everyone else was weirded out by Joe Exotic and his crazy schemes - more weirded out that something that was once a part of the zookeeping world, something that we and really we alone ever talked about, was now in the public domain.  For months afterwards, whenever I heard someone joke about "that bitch Carole Baskin," I'd do a little start and wonder how they'd ever heard of her.

I've been feeling kind of that way this last week or so with ivermectin.

Ivermectin - sometimes sold as Stromectol, Soolantra, Sklice, or other names, is a medication that is used to treat parasites.  It has some approved uses in humans, but is most often though of in terms of veterinary use, especially as a wormer.  If you've been living under a rock for the last month a) congratulations, now do yourself a favor and get back under it while you still can, and b) you may have heard that in some circles... especially certain political circles... Ivermectin is being pushed as a miracle cure for COVID-19.

To be clear, it's not.  At least, the scientific evidence isn't there to support such a claim.  Even if that were the case, however, it would be human ivermectin, sold by a doctor.  Instead, we have people buying over-the-counter ivermectin for animal use, taking it, and, in many cases, having very bad results.  The State of Texas has reported more than a 500% increase in calls of ivermectin poisoning... though I really wonder how many they got in a normal year before this all began.

Ivermectin is a staple of many zoo vets and is used to treat parasitic infections in a wide variety of species, especially in ruminants (other species, such as tortoises, are not recommended for treatment with ivermectin).  Now, I'm not going to pretend that I haven't gotten patched up by a vet or vet tech before - a wound bandage, some disinfected applied, a tooth (not mine) pulled out of a finger (mine).  I've never taken medication meant for the animals, though.  It's just not made for humans and it would be so easy for something to go wrong.  No responsible vet that I know would even suggest doing that.  It's not only a tremendous safety risk, but a horrible professional liability for them as well, likely a career-killer.

The good news is, if you don't want COVID (and you most certainly do NOT want it), there's a much safer option already in place.  Get the damn shot.

Pinata Party at the Cincinnati Zoo

Great video of some great enrichment - but reading the comments, it's downright astonishing how many people are convinced that this is a real zebra... oh well, guess it's a testament to the artistry of the zoo's enrichment team!

The Chimpanzee Connection

The media, as is their custom, did a great job sensationalizing it.  When I first started seeing headlines about a woman having "an affair" with a zoo chimpanzee, I did a little shudder - not just at the thought of the sexual act, but at what the woman's face would probably look like by the time a very excited chimpanzee climbed off of it.  Upon reading, I realized that they probably meant something along the lines of an "emotional affair" -and even that is stretching it.

Antwerp Zoo says woman who had 'affair' with chimp asked to stay away 'for his health'

The truth is, some visitors develop special, empathic relationships with some animals.  Sometimes it's one way, other times, as in this case, it appears to be mutual.  Often it's with big, charismatic mammals (I know a woman who had a special fondness for a bear and visited her regularly when she left her hometown zoo to go to another facility hours away), but you never can tell where the connections will come.  At one zoo where I worked, there was a crow - just a plain American crow, such as you'd see in your backyard or loitering at the dump - who had a fan base.  Some people came just to see him, to sit with him and see if he'd croak a "hello" at them.

It sounds like this chimp has his own behavioral issues, which is not uncommon for chimps that weren't raised as part of a troop, and that the zoo is trying to work him through them.  Hopefully they'll be successful - and hopefully his human friend can see him again once he's in a more stable place (but maybe tone down the kisses).

Cheer Up, Colobus

Not that I'm a huge monkey person to begin with, but I have a special fondness for colobus monkeys.  They are very pretty monkeys, which certainly is appealing.  They tend to be more sedate than many other monkeys, which I attribute in large part to their diet - leaves aren't super nutritious, and a diet of leaves doesn't leave you as much energy to be a jerk as other monkeys.  A big part of it, I think, is their faces.  They always look so sweetly sad, like the world is one the cusp of falling apart, and they could really use a reassuring hug and a cup of hot cocoa.

This sign from Syracuse's Rosamond Gifford Park Zoo gets it...

A lot of keepers that I know who work with colobus joke about their depression face.  I know I did when I worked with them.  It's important, though, to remember to look at our biases when working with animals.  We need to remember to see them as they are, not as they necessarily appear to us.  For example, a "smiling" chimp is not a happy one - it's a scared and/or angry ape.  If we were to try to manage our chimps so that they were "smiling" all the time, their welfare would be seriously compromised.  On the other hand, if a colobus looks "sad," we shouldn't assume that anything is wrong, unless there is other cause to suspect that there is.

Still, it's nice to have signs, like the one above, to help visitors (who can't help but anthropomorphize primates) know that there's no cause for concern.  They're smiling on the inside.  Take our word for it.

Species Fact Profile: Black-and-White Colobus (Colobus guereza)

                                                          Black-and-White (Guereza) Colobus

Colobus guereza (Ruppell, 1835)

Range: Northern Central Africa, from Nigeria and Cameroon in the west to Kenya in the east, the northern Democratic Republic of Congo in the south to northern Ethiopia in the north

Habitat: Forests, ranging from lowland tropical rainforest to montane forests up to 3300 meters, Wooded Savannas.  Most abundant along rivers

Diet: Leaves, Fruit, Blossoms

Social Grouping: Troops of 8-15, usually a single breeding male, 3-4 breeding females, and their young.  Males defend a territory about 30-40 acres in size, but in very ideal habitat can be found in very dense numbers (500 monkeys per square kilometer)

Reproduction:  Breed year round, but with a peak occurring so that young are weaned when there is the most solid food available.  Females solicit males by smacking their lips and lying prone.  Single baby born after 6 month gestation, clings to parents' stomachs for 8-9 weeks, at which point it is weaned.  Females may nurse each other's young.  Females stay in their natal group, males disperse upon reaching sexual maturity.

Lifespan: 20-30 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern, CITES Appendix II

•       Head and body length 45-72 centimeters, with a tail length of 52-100 centimeters.  Weight 7.8 – 13/5 kilograms.  Slightly sexually dimorphic – males are about 20% larger than females.
•       Each hand has only four digits.  The thumb is either absent completely or only represented by a small vestigial tubercle, which sometimes is covered with a fingernail.  It has been theorized that the absence of a thumb allows the animal to move more quickly through the trees
•       Coat is glossy black, with a U-shaped mantle of white on the sides, as well as a ring of white fur surrounding the face.  The tail is either whitish or yellow in color with a large white tuft at the end of the tail.  The face is bare of fur and is gray.  Juveniles are pure white for the first few weeks of life.  All-white adults have been reported in Mt. Kenya, but not confirmed
•       Primarily arboreal, though in habitats with widely spaced trees, they will come to the ground both to feed and to travel from tree to tree.  Usually move through trees quadrupedally, sometimes leaping between branches.  Relatively slow and clumsy on ground
•       Active by day, but spend large amounts of time (about 50% of day) resting, probably a result of their low-energy diet.  Groups sleep at night in a group of close-growing trees
•       Able to consume plants that are toxic to many other species because of fermentation in their stomach (also produce large amount of saliva as a buffer for stomach acid).  Eat about a quarter to a third of their body weight daily
•        Predators include leopards, eagles, and chimpanzees.  They have been seen foraging alongside other primate species.  Infant colobus have been seen playing with the young of other primate species
•        As many as 8 subspecies, differing in coloration and body proportions
•       Species is still common over much of its range, but in decline due to hunting (both for meat and for their fur, used to make ornamental capes and hats) as well as habitat loss.  They are sometimes shot as agricultural pests

Le Le and Ya Ya in the Spotlight

Among the three US zoos to exhibit giant pandas is the Memphis Zoo, home to Le Le and Ya Ya.  The two have been in Tennessee for pushing twenty years, anchoring the zoo's China Exhibit.  I saw them in early 2008, visiting on a bright winter morning while passing through Tennessee.  Despite the usual fondness pandas show for cold weather, they were hunkered down in their indoor holding, sitting among mounds of bamboo, munching away as pandas are wont to do.  They weren't the immediate draw for me that they were for many other visitors - I'd seen giant pandas already at other US zoos - but I spent some time watching them.  They struck me as, well, typical pandas.

What hasn't been typical has been the sudden bizarre attention fixation that the bears have been subject to.  A viral picture early this year showed Ya Ya looking thin and a little patchy in her coat, which raised some concerns.  The zoo addressed these, saying that she was an older bear with some fur issues, and was under treatment for them.  Fair enough.  I've worked with old bears before - old all sorts of animals - and it's true, at a certain age, no matter what you do, they're going to start looking a bit shabby.  Applies to the keepers, too.

The hullabaloo faded away quickly, as internet outrage has a tendency to do.

Memphis Zoo rebuts claims of panda mistreatment

For some reason, this past week it's resurged with a vengeance.  I've seen lots of identical or nearly identical comments (also nearly identical with their atrocious grammar) demanding that the pandas be repatriated to China - they're spamming the facebook pages of the zoo, the City of Memphis, AZA, etc.  I'm a little puzzled by where it's coming from.  I wouldn't think that shipping two elderly animals on a long, stressful flight across the world would be in their interest.  It's not like the Chinese government - which owns the animals - is unaware that they are in Memphis and doesn't receive frequent updates on their status.  And I continue to be confused why so many people online think that they are experts on things that they have no experience with.

Memphis Zoo did the right thing in addressing the concerns earlier this year when they first arose, though I suspect they may have to again just to clarify the pandas' health status.  I'm a big believer in zoos having open communication and honesty with the public - I just hate it when it has to be in response to kneejerk, ill-informed, internet "activism."

The Birthday Bite

Well, the kids who were at this birthday party watching an alligator demonstration got an unexpected surprise.  So did the presenter.  Not all surprises are good, mind you.  It's a lucky thing that someone in the audience was able to come to the rescue.  The bitten handler herself, to give credit where it is due, did a good job of remaining calm, not making a dangerous situation worse, and directing her rescuer to be as effective as possible in getting her out.  Still, this is a good reminder that, when working with dangerous animals (and yes, as easy as they can be to take for granted, alligators are dangerous), the buddy system is invaluable.  You watch your partner's back, and they watch yours.

 

Keeping Keepers Happy

Denver Zoo recently announced that they will be closing for a day to give their staff a day to celebrate... well, making it through the last year is as good of a reason as anything else, I suppose.  They're following in the footsteps of Reid Park Zoo, Florida Aquarium, and other facilities.  Keepers and other staff will still be coming in on the 25th - animals need to be fed, after all - but there will be no visitors, and special activities and treats will be made available for the staff.  

Earlier this week, I read another article about how the San Antonio Zoo, which was forced to cut salaries during closure last year, is paying back its staff members what they lost.  Several keepers I know at other zoos have reported raises, bonuses, or, in some cases, both.

It really makes me happy to see that so many zoos and aquariums are starting to do a better job of appreciating their staff and working towards raising salaries and providing more positive work environments.  This can be an incredibly tough job, even discounting the grinding poverty than many frontline staff have to deal with.  I really hope that we're seeing the beginning of a new era of zoo staff of all levels being treated like professionals and compensated and celebrated accordingly.

Zoo History: The One-Eyed Warrior of the Kabul Zoo

Almost 20 years ago, the conflict that would become America's longest running war was about to become its youngest war.  The United States and its NATO allies bowled over the Taliban regime in Afghanistan, securing the country.  For most Americans, September 11th and its aftermath was the first time that they'd given the landlocked South Asian country the slightest notice.  Soon, everyone was overwhelmed with news from the country, much of which focused on the oppressions committed by the recently-ousted fundamentalist government.  And, as is often the case with the news, one of the most prominent human interest stories to come out of the country wasn't even about a human.

Marjan (his name came from the Persian for "Coral") was the star of the Kabul Zoo... which, considering the state of the Kabul Zoo in 2001, really wasn't that much to brag about.  Just a few years earlier, before the rise of the Taliban, the zoo had been a jewel of the city, specializing in the (surprisingly diverse) wildlife of Afghanistan.  In 1978, Germany's Cologne Zoo donated Marjan, a 2-year old lion, to Kabul Zoo.  Marjan was soon joined by a lioness named "Chucha."

Like the rest of Afghanistan, Marjan's life took a dark turn when the Taliban came to power.  The preceding civil war slashed the resources of the zoo, and many keepers were driven away by the conflict, to say nothing of the guests needed to sustain a zoo.  The Taliban considered shutting the place down entirely, questioning whether the zoo was in keeping with the ideals of Islam.  Thankfully, a quick-witted keeper pointed out that the Prophet Muhammad was himself said to keep pets, and therefore was something of a zookeeper himself.  The Taliban authorities were convinced and allowed the zoo to remain.

On March 27, 1995, one Taliban warrior, perhaps overconfident about his prowess after battlefield victories, decided that there would be no better way to commemorate himself than to take a photo with a lion... from inside the cage.  He entered the dens and began to pet Chucha.  Chucha didn't seem to mind.  Marjan did.  He charged, and the man was killed almost immediately.

The next day, the man's brother came to the zoo and, in rage over his brother's death, threw a live grenade into the lion dens.  Miraculously, Marjan wasn't killed.  The blast did take one eye (and pretty much ruined the other), all of his teeth, and much of his mobility.  A ramp had to be built to help the lion in and out of his den, and he was fed a diet of boned meat.  The man who attacked Marjan was himself killed a week later.

When the occupying forces rolled in Kabul, Marjan was perhaps one of the saddest sights in the city, and he became a celebrity symbol for the plight of Afghanistan.  While various humanitarian groups swarmed the country trying to undo the damage of the last decade of war, a consortium of zoos and aquariums worked to rehabilitate the Kabul Zoo.  Broken, antiquated facilities were rebuilt, staff received training and support, new supplies were brought in, and animals were donated.

Marjan wasn't there to see much of it.  He passed away in 2002, an impressive age for a lion, especially one with his medical history.  The next year, the Chinese government donated two lions.  Not that anyone could replace Marjan, certainly not as a symbol of his adopted country and its perseverance.  After his death, he was buried on zoo grounds, and a bronze statue of him was erected at the entrance of the zoo.  "Here lies Marjan, who was about 23," reads the plaque on his grave in Pashto.  "He was the most famous lion in the world." 

Book Review: Hunt for the Golden Mole

"All I have in common with [scientists] is that I like to watch birds and animals.  I do so very often without really knowing what I am looking at, or understanding the behaviour of the creatures I'm spying on.  Sometimes I regret it, but more often I cherish my own naivety.  It preserves my child's eye, a kind of pickled innocence that keeps nostalgia at bay.  There are always questions to be asked."

Science writer Richard Girling wrote a book ostensibly about the Somali golden mole, named, aptly enough, The Hunt for the Golden Mole.  That's kind of a tall order when you think about it, seeing as no one that we know of us ever actually seen one.  I mean, I'm sure some Somali tribesman at some point in history saw one poke its head above the surface and perhaps briefly wondered, "What the heck is that?", but if that happened, we have no proof.  In fact, the entire some of our knowledge of this species - including the only proof of its existence - is a small piece of bone that was found in an owl pellet nearly 70 years ago.

It's the fact that the Somali golden mole is so unknown - perhaps unknowable - to us that made it so fascinating to Girling.  It set him off on a quest to learn whatever he could about this enigmatic animal - but if that's what he limited himself to, this would probably be a one-page book.  It also led him to try and understand what wild animals mean to us and how we try to understand him.  What follows is a romp through the history of our species interactions with wild animals, from hunters and poachers to conservationists, zookeepers, taxidermists, and scientists.  Without much information on the subject animal itself to hold it steady, the text tends to wander, and at times it strikes me as a little stream-of-conscious, a collection of anecdotes and introductions to favorite mammals strung together in a loose narrative.  Reading it, I was never entirely sure where we were going to go next, except that somehow it would tangentially bring us back to that mole.

Normally, books like this kind of irritate me - I don't mind forays down interesting sidetracks, but I like the book to be a clear journey, helping me explore some greater idea (I'm recalling my dislike of Bernd Brunner's Birdmania, also more of a tangle of yarns than a cohesive book).  This book at least has more structure than that (and the author relies more of writing in this, whereas Birdmania was more of a picture book thinly strung together with spiderwebs of semi-relevant text).  The book ends not only with a visit to the only known physical evidence of the species existence, tucked away in an Italian museum, but with a meeting with the now-elderly biologist who found it.  That probably doesn't explain why I found it much more enjoyable, though.

I suppose that like Girling, I've had that experience of encountering a species - maybe in print, maybe in a museum, sometimes at a zoo or aquarium - and being fascinated by it - only to find, to my frustration, that there's so little that we know about it.  That's followed by a need to learn what I can about it, to try to fill in the gaps of knowledge.  Of course, the difference here, I suspect, is that the appeal of the Somali golden mole to the author is that we don't know it - and if we did, and it was just another of many very small, cryptic African mammals, I wonder if he would have much interest in it at all.  I think, for that reason, that one of my favorite parts of this book is the cover - we can see the shape of a golden mole, hinted at by its surroundings - but where the animal itself should be, there's only space.

The Hunt for the Golden Mole: All Creatures Great & Small and Why They Matter, on Amazon.com 

No True Keeper

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers"

- William Shakespeare, Henry V, Act IV Scene III

...or not so much.

I saw the post the other day about the St. Louis Zoo requiring staff to be vaccinated in a zookeeper facebook group.  It provoked a lot of discussion, mostly about where everyone else's institutions stood on the road to mandated vaccination.  One keeper (or former keeper... or aspiring keeper... it's hard to keep track on that group) seemed shocked that keepers would need to be ordered to get it, especially if they work with vulnerable animals.

"Zookeepers should believe in science," this keeper said (paraphrasing to protect anonymity).  "There shouldn't be any anti-vax zookeepers."

Well, you'd think that... but...

The longer I've spent working with keepers - as one myself, as a manager of them, as an adjunct position, and just from online observations - I've always been amazed that they themselves often think they are monolithic - that a shared love of animals and working with them is all that they need to understand each other.  What makes this weird (and sometimes amusing for me) is the weird shock, borderline betrayal that they sometimes express when someone doesn't act like a zookeeper "should."

I've met zookeepers who were adamant that a true zookeeper couldn't eat meat or animal products... even though most of us do, and are reliant on animal agriculture to provide animal food materials for our charges (even if you don't eat meat or eggs, it has to be understood that the only reason that these products are available for us to buy for our animals is that there is a human market for them).  I've met zookeepers who felt no "true" zookeeper could vote Democratic, because that meant allying with the Left, which to them represents PETA and HSUS, while others (probably more numerous) swear that a keeper couldn't possibly be a Republican due to the association with climate-change denial, opposition to protections for endangered species, and a host of other environmental issues.  

Not surprisingly, the tempers flare hottest on subjects pertaining to animals and animal care, both in the zoo and at home.  Cetaceans in captivity?   Feeding live prey?  Euthanasia for population management?  The culture wars burn just as brightly between keepers (sometimes at the same zoo in the same department) as they do among any cable TV pundits.

I don't think that there's any ideological purity litmus test that is applied to determine if a person is a zookeeper or not.  If you take care of animals in a professional setting at a zoo, aquarium, or similar facility, you are a zookeeper (or aquarist).  There are times when it feels like it's been my identity, but in reality it's a job title.   It tells people what you do.   It doesn't determine who you are and what kind of person you are.

From the News: St. Louis Zoo will require employee COVID-19 vaccinations by end of year

 St. Louis Zoo will require employee COVID-19 vaccinations by end of year

Expect more zoos and aquariums to follow suit, especially keepers working with susceptible animals, such as cats, mustelids, and primates, as well as those under government oversight.  Almost every keeper and curator that I know who doesn't have some sort of medical exemption has already gotten their jab.  Pretty much all of them have done so gladly, doing their part to protect the animals.  This mandate, of course, also extends to all other departments, including visitor services, who are most likely to have direct interaction with the public.

The Big Four

Topeka Zoo wasn't especially big - even with my taking time to loop back through all of the exhibits to make sure that I saw everything, it still was a half-day zoo for me.  I guess it just seemed big to me because it had so many large mammals.  Especially noteworthy, it had three of what I call the "Big Four" - these being the four mammals that, when I was a little kid, were indicative of whether a zoo was "a big zoo" or not.

They aren't species, exactly, more categories.  Elephant (African or Asian).  Rhinoceros (any species).  Hippopotamus (the Nile, or river hippo, as opposed to the pygmy).  Giraffe.

I remember where the concept of the Big Four first hit me.  I was a little kid on a trip to the National Zoo, standing roughly in the center of their old Elephant House.  Turning slowly in a circle from where I stood, I saw Nile hippos and Indian rhinos, a mixed herd of African and Asian elephant, and giraffe, before completing the panorama, all assembled inside the cavernous building.  Even at that age, I remember being impressed about seeing so many big animals together without even moving.

These days, it's not as common as it used to be to see the Big Four.  Our understanding of animal care and husbandry has expanded tremendously since I was a kid, and with it our understanding of what kind of an environment animals need to thrive.  That's largely translated to more space, and, with many zoos being landlocked within the confines of their city, that means that for some animals to get more space, others have to go.  The space at the National Zoo that once held all of those big mammals now holds Asian elephants alone - but more of them, in a larger, more natural family group, in a greatly improved habitat.  Better to house one species well than four or five in subpar habitats.

Of the Big Four, giraffes are far and away the most common - sometimes it seems like every zoo in the US, from the finest of accredited associations with sweeping savannah habitats to kinda scuzzy dumps made of chicken wire and plywood, has giraffes.  They breed very readily and their husbandry isn't that different from other hoofstock (provided you never need to anesthetize them or anything), they aren't as destructive as the others, and have much simpler housing requirements than hippo or elephant.   Plus, visitors can interact with them via giraffe feeding stations, which have become a popular feature of many zoos. 

Assuming you lump all the rhinos together, hippos are the least common of the four, with their expensive habitat requirements, as well as the growing belief that the only way to properly exhibit them is with underwater viewing, otherwise they may not look like much other than a submerged lump.  Not surprisingly, hippos have phased out of many zoo collections, and you rarely see them in the private sector - though in recent years they have been having something of a comeback, with several new exhibits opening across the country, sometimes bringing hippos back to zoos where they had been absent for many years.

Elephants, with their size, intelligence, and social needs, are among the most challenging of all terrestrial animals to maintain - and a flashpoint for people who don't believe that certain species belong in zoos.  Many zoos have gone one of two ways - greatly expand their elephant facilities to accommodate more animals in a bigger habitat, or phase the species out.  When facilities take the second option, rhinos are often the winner, as they are the species that is most often plugged in to replace them.

At the time of my visit to Topeka, it had been a few years since I'd been to a zoo that had all of the Big Four.  That's okay.  Our understanding of what makes a zoo great has changed in the last several years, and we no longer solely (or even chiefly) judge a facility by how many animals it has within its gate, but by how they are cared for.   Better a few smaller animals well cared for then a warehouse full of cramped giants... not that a zoo full of well-cared for giant animals in great habitats wouldn't always be my favorite.

Zoo Review: Topeka Zoo & Conservation Center, Part II

Continuing yesterday's tour of the Topeka Zoo & Conservation Center, we'll look at some of the new additions to the zoo.

When Gary Clarke, the longtime director of Topeka, left his position, he didn't exactly retire.  Instead, he started his own African safari business, which he called Camp Cowabunga.  That name and theme formed the basis for the new African area at the Topeka Zoo, which opened in 2018.  It's smaller than many zoo African exhibits, but its safari-camp style makes for excellent viewing, and what animals it does have, it does well.  Passing through a plaza that houses some enormous dung beetle sculpture, which make for perfect photo ops, visitors pass by an exhibit of patas monkeys, long-legged savannah primates that run as well as they climb.  The exhibit sits on either side of the path, with an overhead passage linking the two halves, offering visitors a chance to watch monkeys clamber overhead.  Children, however, will probably prefer to watch the monkeys from inside a land rover when appears to have crashed into the side of the exhibit, the monkeys frequently perching on the hood.  The monkeys share their habitat with dikdik, leopard tortoise, and helmeted guineafowl.

A nearby safari base camp building is the headquarters of Camp Cowabunga, complete with a replica of Clarke's office, a hippo skull perched precariously on the desk, books overflowing from the shelves.  Floor to ceiling windows provide excellent views of two of Africa's big social carnivores, the lion and the African wild dog.  Additional viewing for each species is outside.  Camp Cowabunga is expected to expand in the near future, as construction on a new habitat for giraffe, antelope, and ostrich is taking place at this time, which will see the giraffes relocated from the Animals and Man building.

Down the path from Camp Cowabunga is a set of densely-planted habitats for Sumatran tigers.  Nearby, outside the Tropical Rianforest, is a feeding aviary for lorikeets.

A third big cat species - the puma - is seen in Kansas Carnivores, a sprawling series of exhibits at the other end of the zoo.  Next to the pumas is a kind of so-so habitat for North American river otters - not bad, but lacking underwater viewing and perhaps a bit plain.  Additional native wildlife can be found nearby in the form of a pronghorn exhibit (shared with wild turkeys), a lagoon for trumpeter swans (which does a good job of attracting other native waterfowl), and  a tail flight cage for golden eagles.  Perhaps the best exhibit in the zoo is Hill's Black Bear Woods, an excellent, spacious, heavily planted yard (and I know it can be tough to keep plants with bears) that houses American black bears.  The bears can be observed from the ground level through windows in a viewing building or from the roof of the building.  Signage in there about humans living with bears is great.  The only thing I didn't like about the exhibit - and this is an issue with the zoo as a whole - is the background.  The zoo is small and, though adjacent to a park, seems surrounded by city, and there's seldom a view of an animal that doesn't have stores and streets and traffic lights serving as the backdrop.

One of Topeka's biggest weakness is, outside of the bug room in Animals and Man, a lack of small animals.  Apart from a caiman and red-footed tortoise in the rainforest building I didn't see a single herp in the zoo (the tortoises in the monkey exhibit were confirmed by sign, not by sight),  There is a small room near the gift shop that has a few small species, but it can only be visited when staff are present to man it, which was not the case when I visited.  The Liana Forest and the main building at Camp Cowabunga could probably have been planned to have a few small exhibits in them, and who knows what will happen when Animals and Man empties out as the giraffes (and later elephants) move out?

Topeka strikes me as a good zoo that, for many years, was perhaps too content to sit on its laurels, until one day it woke up and realized that it was getting up there in its years.  Recently it has shown new vim and energy, starting to improve or replace past exhibits and strive to do better for its visitors and animals.  I look forward to visiting again when the new giraffe exhibit opens, as well as to seeing what future changes are in store for this once - and perhaps future - "World Famous" zoo.

Zoo Review: Topeka Zoo & Conservation Center, Part I

When you think of zoos bearing the title of "World Famous," what do you think of?  San Diego?  The Bronx?  London?  Berlin?  Well, how about Topeka, Kansas?  It may seem doubtful, but that's how this mid-sized midwestern zoo (well, the Topeka Zoo & Conservation Center, to give them their full name) once billed itself to the world when it was under the directorship of the entrepreneurial Gary Clarke.  Topeka has had its ups and downs since its heydays in the 1970's, even briefly losing its accreditation with the Association of Zoos and Aquariums from 2001-2003.  With major overhauls and the addition of several exciting new exhibits in recent years, with more to come, this zoo seems full of promise.  In the first of this two-part review, we'll look at the older exhibits.

If there is one exhibit that really put Topeka on the map, it's The Tropical Rainforest, the very first indoor rainforest building in the United States.  If imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, then Topeka should consider itself very flattered, as this has become a common staple of zoos around the country, with some versions sprawling over an acre.  As with many prototypes, this version looks a little small and shabby compared to newer models.  The inside is a strange mixture of semi-natural and brutalist concrete, as if the architects didn't think the world was ready for a realistic rainforest.  Things are very squared off, the waterfall directly opposite the entrance looks like a shopping mall fountain, and there are several very obvious walls built up the define the side-exhibits.  These house a variety of small rainforest species from around the globe, such as chevrotain, armadillo, and what has got to be the worst caiman exhibit in terms of animal viewing that I've ever seen.  In the center of the building is an elevated deck, from which visitors can observe a variety of birds in free flight.  I looped through the building a few times before I left the zoo, and each time I did I saw something new that I'd missed on previous visits.  Among the birds swooping around visitors are Bali mynah, roseate spoonbill, blue-crowned motmot, and Taveta golden weaver.  Also at home here are a colony of flying foxes, taking up residence in the rafters at the highest point of the building.

More tropical animals can be seen in the Liana Forest, what was once called Discovering Apes.  This building has been repurposed to educate visitors about the rainforests of Southeast Asia, with Bornean orangutans as the stars.  The orangutans can be seen indoors or outdoors, with lots of climbing structures of both sides.  The building has a neat recreation of a scientists base camp, with educational features about saving orangutans in the wild, largely focusing on palm oil.  What used to be the building's gorilla exhibit is now given over to sun bear.  This exhibit had - and still has - a unique feature in the form of a glassed-in tunnel which leads through the exhibit, which gave visitors the option of watching gorillas climb directly over their heads.  I have no idea whether the sun bear actually uses this feature, but this is the sort of innovating thinking the helped put Topeka on the map back in its days.

The largest animals in the zoo can be found in the mishmash that is the Animals and Man building, a large mammal house which features giraffe, hippopotamus, and a mixed pair of one African and one Asian elephant (historically it was common for the species to be mixed in zoos, much less common today).  The building also features a small insectarium, as well as black-and-white ruffed lemurs and crested porcupines.  The exhibits are largely unimpressive, and the signage tries to present a cohesive theme to the building, but falls short.  Looking at the indoor holding, I thought that if anti-zoo folks wanted to make a documentary about antiquated zoo exhibits, they could just film this building in black and white while the animals are in for the winter.  They may have to hurry, though - the giraffes are slated to be moved to a new exhibit, with plans for the elephants (eventually consisting of a solely African herd) to follow.  What that means for the future of the building and its remaining occupants I don't know.  I love the idea of a building devoted to the concept of "Animals and Man" - this just doesn't pull it off very well.

Having alluded to the new giraffe exhibit, under construction at the time of my visit, it must be admitted that there has been a lot of change in the air in Topeka in recent years, which continues to this day.  We'll take a look at some of the newer exhibits tomorrow.

Topeka Zoo & Conservation Center

Under the Moose Dome

 "Changes in latitude, changes in attitude."

- Jimmy Buffett

It really is strange to me, the more I think about it, how many rare, endangered, exotic animals - some of which weren't even known to science a century ago - I saw in zoos before I saw my first moose.  I guess that's a testament to both how widespread and successful zoos have become, making once almost-mythical animals such as gorillas accessible to a huge swath of the population, as well as to just how hard moose can be to keep... outside of the north, at any rate.  Even polar bears aren't so problematic in warmer climes.

I wonder if it would be possible to keep moose in the south if they were kept indoors.  It would have to be a big building, mind you, and probably very expensive.  I'm sure you could do a lot of quirky stuff with it - a tunnel leading through underwater viewing of moose?  a hydroponic greenhouse to provide the aquatic plants that they eat - but I don't see it coming anytime soon.  Which is strange, because so many northern zoos build rainforest buildings to accommodate tropical species.  Why doesn't anyone do the opposite?

Maybe it would be best if we took a step back from building giant domes (or at least as many giant domes) and focused more on animals that could be exhibited outdoors year round (or at least for a greater chunk of the year).  Northern US zoos could take advantage of cooler climes to have species of the northern US and Canada, as well as northern Asia, the Himalayas, Patagonia, and parts of Australia.  Southern zoos would have their own native species, as well as Africa, tropical Asia, and tropical Australia/New Guinea.  Some species do well outdoors in both - lions, for example, are just about as comfortable in New England as they are in New Orleans.  Not building huge, expensive-to-maintain buildings would save a lot of cash which could go to other things... like salary raises?

Of course, some indoor exhibits would still be around, especially for smaller animals.  And you would need indoor holding regardless of where you are, especially for freak unexpected weather, such as when Florida has cold snaps or the Pacific Northwest has heatwaves.  Part of the appeal of zoos is also seeing animals from someplace completely different from your own, such as introducing the tropics to the Midwest, or the arctic of California.

Also, you  know who would really miss those indoor exhibits?  The keepers.  Because when its 30 degrees outside, it can be very nice to spend your workday wearing shorts in the tropics.

Species Fact Profile: Moose (Alces alces)

 Moose

Alces alces (Linnaeus, 1758)

Range: Northern North America (Canada, Alaska, northern continental United States) and Eurasia (Scandinavia/northern Europe, Russia, northern China and Mongolia

Habitat: Coniferous and Deciduous Forest, usually found near water

Diet: Stems, Twigs, Leaves, Shoots, Aquatic Plants.  Favorites include willow, aspen, birch

Social Grouping: Solitary outside of breeding or mother with calves.  Not territorial 

Reproduction:  Breeding occurs September or October.  Polygynous.  Gestation period 231 days.  Usually a single calf, sometimes twins.  Calves hidden at birth but can start following mother at 3 weeks, weaned at 5 months, independent at 1 year.  Sexually mature at 2 years, but males usually aren't able to secure access to a female until 4-5 years old

Lifespan: 8 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern

•       Largest species of deer.  Stand up to 2.3 meters at the shoulder, up to 3.1 meters long, and can weigh over 700 kilograms.  Males are about 40% larger than females.  Southern moose are smaller than northern ones, with the Alaskans being the largest.  Ears are long, tails are tiny .  Most distinctive trait is the large, bulbous, drooping muzzle,  the upper lip hanging over the lower lip.  A flap of furred skin under the neck, the bell, is present in males, sometimes in females
•       The antlers are the largest of any deer and can weigh up to 35 kilograms, spreading over 200 centimeters from tip to tip.  The antlers of North American moose are palmate (flat, broad), while those of Eurasian moose more closely resemble those of other deer.  Antlers are usually seen only in males, and are shed each winter and grow back in the spring.  Very rarely, cows may grow antlers due to hormone imbalances
•       Fur is dark brown or black, sometimes with a greyish tint, lighter on the legs.  All-white moose have been reported, but are rare.  Calves are reddish-brown and have a solid-colored coat, not the spotted pattern seen in many other deer species.  
•       Despite ungainly appearance, they are fast runners, clocked with a maximum speed of 56 kilometers/hour, sustained speed of 9.6 kilometers per hour.  They are also excellent swimmers, logged at swimming distances of up to 20 kilometers and diving to depths of over 5 meters
•       When feeding underwater, the nostrils are closed by fatty pads, responding to changes in water pressure. Adults require up to 30 kilograms of plants per day.
• ·         Predators across the range include gray wolves, brown and black bears, coyotes, pumas, and Amur tigers.  Bears are more important predators in the spring when calves are present, wolves in the winter when snow impedes the movement of moose and makes them easier to catch.  Moose defend themselves with their antlers and with kicks with their hooves.  Weakened moose have been taken by wolverines.  There are reports of moos swimming between islands being taken by orcas and, at least once, by a Greenland shark
•      “Moose” is from the Algonquin word for “Twig Eater.”  In Eurasia, the species is called the elk, not to be confused with the deer that also goes by that name in North America, the wapiti (Cervus canadensis).  Old English dictionaries simply define an elk as “a deer as large as a horse”·         
•       Subspecies include the nominate, or Eurasian; the Yakutia of eastern Siberia, Mongolia, and Manchuria (A. a. pfizenmayeri), the Amur of eastern Russia and China (A. a. cameloides), the Chukotka of eastern Siberia (A. a. buturlini), the eastern moose of North America (A. a. americana), the western (A. a. andersoni), the Alaskan (A. a. gigas), and the Shiras’ moose of the Rocky Mountains (A. a. shirasi).  The now-extinct moose of the Caucasus (A. a. causcasicus) ranged as far south as Iran and Turkey.
•      Some researches divide this species into two, with Alces alces being limited to the Eurasian populations and Alces americana representing the North American moose.  This argument has been made on the basis of some morphological differences (such as antlers_ as well as possible differences in chromosome counts 
•      Populations are overall robust, in some cases expanding, though some subspecies or local populations are in decline.  Tolerant of habitat disturbance, as clearing or burning forests promotes new growth for them to feed on
•       Hunted throughout much of their range, both for meat and for sport.  Historically, their hides were also valued for making leather, especially among Native Americans.  Moose hunting is an important draw for tourists in many rural communities in the north.
•          North American populations may be in decline due to competition and diseases introduced by the rapidly-expanding populations of white-tailed and mule deer, which are encroaching northward.  Heavy tick infestations can also threaten moose, as they lose their fur while trying to ride themselves of the pests and become more susceptible to hypothermia in the winter
• ·         There have been some programs in place to farm moose, including for their milk.  Domestication has been proposed off and on for years, with proposed use as pack animals, mounts (including for cavalry), and food, all of which have seen some small-scale usage, but negligible overall
• ·        Some efforts at reintroduction into former parts of their range, including the reintroduction of two moose into the Scottish Highlands in 2008.  They have also been introduced into areas outside of their native range, including in New Zealand in 1900; the species may or may not still be present in that country

      Zookeeper's Journal: I was almost in college before I first saw a moose.  Looking back on it, that's crazy.  By that age I had seen giant pandas (only in four US zoos at the time), koalas, Komodo dragons, and a host of other super-rare species from the opposite side of the globe - but not moose.  Not a species that could be found, in the wild, a long day's drive from my home.   Since then, I've only seen moose a handful of times - and always in zoos that are within the native range of the species.  Moose are notoriously hard to keep healthy in zoos, with warm temperatures and insects plaguing them.  Historically their diet was also problematic and they were prone to stomach ulcers (though recent advances in zoo nutritional science seem to have largely solved that problem).  The species may start to become a little more common, but I don't except that it will ever be as abundant as bison, elk, bighorn, or any other large mammal of the Lower 48.

Squashing the Litterbug

OK, I admit it.  Watching an adult orangutan decide to pick up a pair of sunglasses and put them on is pretty funny.  It's especially funny in retrospect, after the glasses have been removed safely and you know that you're not going to be spending the next week sifting through fecal samples to see if you find shards of Raybans in them.  I'd have been just as happy if they'd never found their way in there, though.

Working with animals has made me a compulsive picker-upper of trash.  Part of it is for the benefit of the animals.  I grew up reading a series of horror stories in newspapers about zoo animals getting sick or dying from trash that they've ingested.  Sometimes it's trash that's blown into the exhibit by accident.  Sometimes it's more deliberate.  Any animal that lives in an pool is going to inevitably get a shower of coins from visitors who think that any body of water bigger than a sink basin is a wishing well.  Coins, however, contain metals such as copper, which can be toxic if consumed.  

Not all of the coins go into aquatic exhibits.  One cheeky little DeBrazza's monkey that I worked with was given a quarter, which it took half of hour of coaxing for me to get back from him.  He would wait until he was sure I was watching, then pull it out of his cheek pouches, make a big show of admiring it, then pop it back into his mouth and leap away from me.  It cost me a banana to get that back.  I kept the quarter once I got it from him.

Besides animal safety, I just hate litter for aesthetics.  The zoo is my workplace, and I'm very fond of it.  I hate seeing people use it as a dump.  Plus, the more trash people drop on the ground, the more it sends the message to other people that it's okay to drop trash.  Like begets like.  Litter invites litter.  On the other hand, people are less likely to litter there themselves.

It can be hard not to spend an entire morning picking up trash.  I start, and then I can't stop - and I seldom mean to get started.  Some days, my hands develop weird cramps from straining to hold so many pieces of litter as I try to grab "just one more" on my way to the trash can.

The zoo is a public place, and it'll never be completely clean (and that definition excludes the animal poop, which if you think about it is supposed to be there).  I try to do a little bit each day to make it cleaner.  I also sometimes make a point of picking up trash in front of visitors, just ducking down as I walk to pick up a stray wrapper or something.  I like to think that it reminds them that there are actual people who are on grounds trying to keep the place neat, both for the wellbeing of the animals and for their own experience.  

Reminding them of that just might make them a little more careful about getting their trash in the can.

Orangutan Wearing Sunglasses

 

Just remember, for every object that gets dropped into an exhibit and results in the animal picking it up and suddenly starring in a viral online video, there's another incident where said animal tries to eat the object and makes itself sick.  There's also plenty of cases where the keeper than has to go in and recover the object before anything bad happens to the animal, which may then result in something bad happening to the keeper (I got my shins bludgeoned pretty badly an an angry vulture while trying to rescue a little girl's doll once.  Never even got a thank you).  So please, hold on to your stuff when leaning over exhibits.  Also, hold on to your children.

The Other Olympians

The animals aren't the only ones at the zoo who get into the Olympic spirit.   At many zoos, the summer also means the Zookeeper Olympics.  Unlike the Olympics, these are often held every year, which is just as well when you consider the crazy-high turnover at many zoos, which would mean that many contestants wouldn't be around for four years.   They are also held within a zoo or aquarium, rather than between a number of zoos, like the Olympics are between several nations.

The games are a series of contests that judge the skills of the keepers, with common challenges including:

• Hose-Coiling Races
• Wheelbarrow Races
• Blowgun Darting
• Diet Chopping
• Obstacle Courses
• Hosing "Soccer"
• Dung Flinging

Unlike the normal human Olympics, there is often also a knowledge component in the form of a trivia game of some sort.

A keeper from Omaha's Henry Doorly Zoo vies at that facility's 2018 Zookeeper Olympics

I never liked the Zookeeper Olympics much.  It always struck me that the keepers who were the most gung-ho about it were also usually the laziest ones who did the least work during most of the year.  We would joke that they were spending the other 51 weeks of the year resting up so they didn't impair their performance for the games.  Managers seemed to think the same thing, also; you could tell that they were wondering why some people could shovel or hose with so much skill or speed during the rest of the year, not just when a cupcake or gift card was on the line.

We don't have Keeper Olympics at my current zoo, and I can't say I miss it much.  With the right staff, though, I could imagine it being what it was meant to be - a fun bonding experience where members of a team come together to show their skills.

Going for the Gold

Zoos and aquarium educators have always been pretty skilled at finding ways to bring animals to the forefront of whatever is in our cultural foreground at the moment.  Remember a few years ago when "Pokemon Go" was such a huge deal?  My zoo - and really every other zoo that I know - was pretty quick to jump on that bandwagon, both in order to bring in the public and to steer at least some of the attention to animals and conservation.  One script that we can dust off every four years (two years if you count the Winter) is the Olympics.

For most Olympic events, there is an animal that puts even the best human competitor to shame.  I say "most" because there are no animal champions in beach volleyball or fencing, that I am aware of, but I can imagine gibbons taking to either quite skillfully if they ever put their minds to it.  Cheetahs and pronghorn can run faster than us.  Kangaroos and leopards jump higher and further.  Dolphins and sea lions swim faster and more gracefully.  Elephants can lift heavier weights (and if we're looking at it as a proportion of body weight, then ants and many other insects reign supreme).  Not surprisingly, many zoos make posts to show off the skills of their animals, some seriously, some with more comedy in mind.  Take this post from Timbavati Wildlife Park in Wisconsin as an example, celebrating their white tiger Diva earning a gold in their "diving competition".

With most physical activities there can be no denying, animals have us beat.  That being said, we can run faster than a lot of animals, climb better than a lot of animals, and swim better than a lot of animals.  We may not be the best anything without our technology backing us up, but we're pretty good at a lot of things.  We sort of have the Swiss Army Knife of physiques, Jack of All Trades, Master of None.  I like to think that, for mostly-hairless apes, we put on a pretty decent showing in an Olympics.  Not all of us, I mean...