Can I Keep It?

Recently, my zoo was looking to deaccession some of its old biofacts, part of an old "Suitcase for Survival."  Some of them looked like straight trash, as old and motheaten as they were from years of disuse.  Others... well, others looked pretty cool.  Cool enough that, were it not for issues of legality or permits (to say nothing of practicality), I would have loved to have asked, "Can I keep it?"

Zookeepers and aquarists, I've noticed over the years, definitely have a strain of packrat-ism.  We have a tendency to want to collect and hold onto things.  Some of it is nostalgic - our animals don't live forever, and it's great to have keepsakes of them - a painting, a pawprint, a feather, a quill.  Part of it is just because a lot of the things that we work with are so cool that it's hard not to want to hold onto them.  Some psychologist could probably draw a link from this to the Victorian compulsion to collect and classify, whether in zoos, gardens, or museums, but I'm not touching that can of worms.

Where this becomes a problem, of course, is that we tend to be a nomadic folk, constantly moving from job to job, which makes the collection of large amounts of (often fragile) possessions problematic.  I've tried to tone down my acquisitive impulses to only a few more prized possessions, either those that are really cool or of great sentimental value to me.  Still, it's hard sometimes not see something absolutely awesome and feel a possessive twitch.

It also doesn't stop with me - I project it onto my zoo.  I am the worst at throwing out stuff, because I'm always convinced we'll want it for later as an exhibit, an educational prop, or whatever.  Left to my own devices, I'd bully and browbeat our admin into building an entire museum wing for all of the treasures that we'd accumulate over the years.