The Fragile "Wasteland"

In my high school years, one of the most pressing political/environmental debates concerned whether or not to open up the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge for oil drilling.  It's a perennial hot-button issue that comes up fairly often, but I seem to recall that it was in full swing then.  One particular ignorant and unpleasant classmate of mine keyed in on the fact that I was concerned about and against the prospect of drilling.  He would occasionally taunt me about how silly my concerns were.  "There's just snails and stuff up there," he would repeat with a smug smirk.  How he decided that snails, of all things, were the lone denizen of what is one of the most diverse and beautiful ecosystems in America was beyond me, even then.

The crux (to glorify it as such) of the simpleton's opinion was that the Arctic was a wasteland, nothing lives there, and nothing we can do to it matters, because it's already a dump.  I've heard the same argument made about the desert.

The truth is, the harshness of the desert (or the Arctic) makes it even more important that we preserve those habitats.  The animals and plants that exist there are already living on the edge of extremes - heat and cold, drought and flood, scarcity and plenty.  They have little margin for error.  Their ecosystem is a hard, sometimes brutal one, but they've evolved and adapted to it.  It doesn't take too much change for what is already a harsh place to live to become an impossible place.  

That can mean a slight decrease in water levels that are already low, a decrease in the already small amounts of vegetation growing there, or an increase in temperature.  Or, it can mean introducing new threats to complicate an already precarious existence, such as competition from domestic livestock, or hunting pressures previously unknown to those animals.  Conversely, modifying the habitat to make it more hospitable - such as adding water sources for irrigation projects - can allow other, non-desert species to move in and muscle and native desert dwellers out of their own homes and niches.

The plants and animals that live in the world's great deserts are already masters of living in some of the most challenging environmental conditions on earth.  I feel like the least that we can do is not make life harder for them.

Dangerous Prey

Employee gored to death by antelope in Swedish animal park

Earlier this week, an employee at the Oland Animal and Entertainment Park in Sweden was killed by an eland, the Park reported.  As always after tragedies such as these, we extend condolences to the family of the deceased.  The news might surprise many people, who think of antelope chiefly in terms of being prey for lions, cheetahs, and other predators.  I was not particularly surprised.

The truth is, there are a large number of different antelope, some of which, such as eland, can be quite massive.  A bull common eland can weigh over one ton and stand over five feet tall at the shoulder.  Many antelope (the males, and in many species the females too) are equipped with horns, which can vary from massive hoops of bone and keratin, thicker than your arm, to the arguably deadlier short, sharp daggers of small forest antelope.  Some species can be quite aggressive - or, "proactively defensive," if it helps to think of it like that.  Put together size, horns, and a willingness to use them in one animal, and you can have quite a dangerous creature.  Sable antelope - one of the larger antelope, equipped with huge horns and a fiery disposition - have been known to kill lions.

Unlike big cats or bears, many zoo employees work directly with antelope, especially in safari park settings.  Also unlike carnivores, large ungulates, in my experience at any rate, show much more of a willingness to hold their ground when angered.  They aren't easily scarred or bluffed off.  Most potential prey species have that flight or fight response - and in a zoo, the capacity for flight is limited, making fighting all the more attractive of an option.  Of course, flight can be dangerous also, especially if you are in the direction that the animal decides to flee to.  I've been knocked flat on my back before and been treated to the view of what a zebra looks like on the underside as it leaps over you.

I'm actually surprised that we don't have more incidents of keepers being severely injured or killed by hoofstock.  The fact that it doesn't happen more often I think we can attribute to a combination of better facilities, better animal care practices (such as shifting and training), and, that most valuable of resources, good old fashion dumb luck.

Satire: The Safety Rail

Putting a Safety Rail Around Our Zoo's Tiger Pit Would Be a Slap In the Face to All the People Who Previously Fell Into the Pit and Got Mauled

Zoo History: Operation Oryx

For centuries, few large land mammals seemed safer or more removed from the threat of humanity than the Arabian oryx.  At home in the desolate deserts of the Arabian peninsula, the oryx - smallest of the world's four species - was sheltered by its seemingly inaccessible habitat.  By the dawn of the twentieth century, however, that was changing.  The introduction of motor vehicles and more powerful, long-range guns replaced the horses, camels, spears, and bows and arrows that the Bedouin had once hunted the animals with, allowing humans to follow the oryx into the heart of the desert.  More concerningly, the boom in oil exploration was luring more and more humans into the desert.  Soon, the numbers of oryx, which had not evolved to face this type of hunting pressure, began to plummet.  The species began to disappear throughout its range.

Responding to the crisis, the Fauna and Flora Preservation Society, an international conservation charity, and World Wildlife Fund, proposed an ambitious plan to capture the last few oryx and relocate them to a sanctuary elsewhere.  Originally, they planned to transport the animals to Kenya - already home to wild oryx of a separate species - until an outbreak of hoof-and-mouth disease scrapped those plans.  Instead, they began to look for a site that, while removed from the dangers of Arabia, would have a climate and habitat suitably similar to the Middle East.  They found it on the other side of the globe, in Arizona - at the Phoenix Zoo.  The Zoo had just opened to the public, and was already being thrust into the center of one of the greatest wildlife rescue projects ever attempted.

Four wild oryx were captured in present-day Yemen with the aid of local tribesmen.  An additional seven were cobbled together from zoos and private collections, both in Arabia and abroad, including two owned by the King of Saudi Arabia, Saud bin Abdul Aziz.  One of the wild oryx and one of the captive oryx died shortly after their assembly.  The remaining nine were transferred to Phoenix and became what was known as "the World Herd."

After the initial bad luck, fortunes reversed quickly.  The first calf was born in October 1963, the result of a conception that took place en route.  Another birth followed, and a few more oryx were scrounged up in Saudi Arabia.  The oryx thrived in Phoenix and bred well, despite the small population bottleneck.  Soon, some were sent to the San Diego Wild Animal Park to start another herd.  Other zoos followed.  Such was the success that, in 1982, reintroduction back into the wild began, first in Oman, then in countries throughout the Middle East, from Israel and Jordan in the north as far south as the bottom of the Arabian Peninsula.  Some of the herds still receive supplemental care, while others are truly wild.  Sanctuaries for the species have been established throughout the region.

Breeding continued to carry on in the US; in 2002, twenty years after the first reintroduction and forty years after the arrival of the first oryxes, Phoenix Zoo welcomed its 225th calf.  The species is now spread throughout zoos, and even has spilled into the private sector.  Today, the oryx has been downgraded to "Vulnerable" by the IUCN.  What really makes the story of the species so remarkable, however, is its example as one of the first international success stories to use captive breeding and reintroduction to save a species that was on the brink of extinction.  Collaboration took place between countries in Europe, North America, and the Middle East, including some nations that have historically been at odds with each other.  Working together, they proved what is possible when nations work together to help restore a priceless piece of their shared natural heritage.

Trailblazing

Visiting an immersive zoo-exhibit like those at the Living Desert is enjoyable, but even so, I still love to go off an explore actual wild places.  It's great to lose yourself in a natural landscape, leaving the crowds behind and have your own more intimate experience.  Even more exciting, you leave the controlled environment of the zoo behind and enter a landscape where anything can happen.  You don't know what - if any - animals you'll see or where they'll be or how they'll react to your presence.  Anything can happen - the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The Living Desert does offer hiking trails.  So do a handful of other facilities I've visited.  Most recently, I was at the International Crane Foundation in Baraboo, Wisconsin, where a snake's nest of trails branches off near the wattled crane habitat.  Staff told me that, had I visited at a different time of year, I might have encountered wild sandhill cranes nesting in the wetlands the trails meandered around.  It was the wrong time of year for nesting, bur I did see a few straggling sandhills about the grounds, even a small flock flying across the road as I was leaving the facility.   It greatly enhanced my experience there.

Ever zoo is somewhere - as in, it's in the landscape of some natural ecosystem, be it Sonoran desert or Great Plains or eastern deciduous forest.  A natural trail is an excellent, relatively low-cost addition to any zoo.  The two main arguments I could see against it are the use of space, which could be devoted to exhibit space or off-exhibit holding and breeding, and liability.  Nature trails are, by definition, a little more rugged in many cases, unless you install a boardwalk or some similar path.  It would be easier for visitors to fall, trip, or otherwise injure themselves, especially if they wander off-trail.  An additional concern is that natural spaces can serve as reservoirs for native predators that may slip out under cover of darkness to harass your collection animals.

I think that the installation of nature trails is of huge potential benefit, though.  For one thing, few zoos have the resources to develop and staff their entire campus, so this turns unused space into protected natural space that serves as an attraction in its own right at low cost.  It also helps reinforce the message that wildlife habitat isn't something that just exists "over there," in Africa or Asia, but is part of our own backyards as well.  It can help teach visitors more about the plants and animals of their own areas.  It can also enhance zoo visits by offering unexpected encounters with wild animals on their own terms.  All keepers have stories about visitors getting distracted from the elephants and gorillas when a chipmunk darts across the path.

As a final incentive, every little patch of habitat preserved can help edge our country closer to its goal of setting aside 30% of land and water areas for wildlife habitat and conservation.  Every bit helps.

Shower Time at Toledo Zoo

We've talked about ways to help keep zoo animals cool during hot weather - but what about visitors?  Sure, there's shade structures, and ice cream, and maybe encouraging them not to come when its hotter than the surface of the sun and there are no animals out anyway.  But what if the animals could help the visitors keep cool on hot days - whether the visitors asked for it or not?  That's the Toledo Zoo way!

Crowding on the Range

In the Old West, there was well-documented antipathy between cattlemen and sheepherders, the result of disputes over grazing lands.  Dozens of murders (and the slaughter of thousands of heads of livestock) occurred across several states.  The arid western grazing lands, after all, once seemingly so vast, could only accommodate so many animals.  But the real conflict might not have been cows vs sheep - it may have been sheep vs sheep.  Or, more accurately, domestic sheep vs bighorn sheep.

Similar conflicts play out in Mongolia, with its Przewalski's wild horses, or the Sahel region of Africa, with oryx, addax, and gazelle.  Wherever there are grasslands with limited forage and water, there is almost inevitable conflict between domestic animals and the wild ones that were there first.  What is also inevitable is, the wild animals tend to lose.  

Farmers and ranchers monopolize dry country water supplies, limiting access to wild animals.  They erect fences, both to keep their animals in and others out.  Many hoofed animals, such as pronghorn, show a severe aversion to fences and will not attempt to cross them.  Others may try and die tangled up in barbed wire.  Farmers may shoot to kill or drive off native ungulates, seeing them as competitors to their livelihood.  When wild and domestic animals do mingle around water sources or grazing lands, the domestic animals may spread diseases to the wild ones, a major threat to the endangered desert bighorn sheep of the American Southwest.  In other cases, such as Przewalski's wild horse and domestic horses, or wild and domestic Bactrian camels, hybridization may occur. 

Like the wild animals that they compete with, arid-land pastoralists are often on the edge, trying to survive in dry, unforgiving climates.  Unfortunately, it's getting dryer and dryer, and therefore harder and harder for them to make a living, let alone coexist with wild neighbors.  

Species Fact Profile: Przewalski's Wild Horse (Equus przewalskii)

     Przewalski's Wild Horse (Asian Wild Horse, Mongolian Wild Horse, Takhi)

                          Equus przewalskii/Equus ferus przewalskii (I. S. Polyakov, 1881)

Range: Historically ranged throughout Europe and Asia.  In recent times were found only in Central Asia, and today found only in reintroduction sites in Mongolia, China, and Kazakhstan

Habitat:  Steppe, Grassy Desert

Diet: Grasses, Leaves, Shrubs  

Social Grouping: Herds of 12-15 animals, consist of a dominant stallion, several mares, and their offspring, sometimes with younger stallions hanging on the periphery of the herd.

Reproduction: Breed in the spring and summer.  Gestation period 11-12 months, after which single foal born.  Foals are capable of standing about an hour after birth, are weaned at 8-13 months (though they may begin grazing a few weeks after birth).  Biologically sexually mature at 2 years old, but males usually are not in a position to breed until they are 5 years old.  Female comes into heat with 7-8 days of giving birth

Lifespan: 30-35 Years (Wild)

      Conservation Status: IUCN Endangered, CITES Appendix I

• ·    1.3-1.5 meters tall at the withers, 2.2-2.6 meters long, 250-360 kilograms.  Compared to domestic horses, stocky with shorter legs
• ·     Coat is generally dun in color with some white around the muzzle, eyes, and underside (Pangaré), often with some faint striping on the black lower legs and a dark dorsal stripe running from the mane to the tail.  The mane is black and stands erect, does not grow as far forward as in domestic horses.  A very dense winter coat is grown in the colder months, then shed out for a lighter summer coat.  The tail is 90 centimeters long.  Compared to domestic horses, the hooves and longer in the front and have thicker soles
• ·     Male offspring driven from the herd upon reaching sexual maturity (forming bachelor herds until they are able to challenge stallions for herds of their own), while females may remain in their natal herd.  Home range size varies from as little as 1.2 square kilometers to as much as 800 square kilometers in desert habitat  
• ·    Spend the days in the desert, more arid parts of home range, moving into grazing and watering areas in the evening, presumably to avoid enemies.
• ·    Will dig up ground plants buried under snow.  During winter, their metabolic rate can slow down, helping them conserve energy.
• ·    Adults have few natural predators, with wolves being the most important.  The leading cause of death in foals in infanticide from stallions.
• ·    Treated by some authorities as a full species (E. przewalskii), others as a subspecies of wild horse (E. ferus przewalskii), and by others as a feral variety of domestic horse (E. caballus) with no special taxonomic status.  Have 33 pairs of chromosomes versus the 32 pairs in domestic horses, though still capable of interbreeding and producing fertile offspring
• ·    Generally considered to be the world’s only true remaining wild horse (others, such as the American mustang and Australian brumby, are relatively recently established feral populations)
• ·    Common name honors Russian (Polish descent) geographer and explore Nikolaj Przewalski, who was credited with discovering the species, although there were earlier mentions of wild horses in the region in the writings of travelers and envoys to the region
• ·     Sometimes known by its native Mongolian name, takhi, meaning “spirit”
• ·     Horses resembling the Asian wild horse are depicted in European cave art as far back as 20,000, but may have been now-extinct European tarpan or similar species
• ·     Species was not observed in the wild from 1903 until 1947, when a few very small, isolated herds were observed.  Last observed in the wild in 1969, leading it to be declared extinct in the wild for the next thirty years
• ·     Species was believed to be naturally rare, with extinction in the wild brought about by competition with domestic animals (which possibly drove this species to suboptimal habitat by the time it came to the attention of Europeans), hunting, and a series of unusually harsh winters.  Risk of genetic contamination (deliberate or accidental) with domestic horses
• ·     In addition to traditional zoo collections, small numbers of specialized reserves were created for the species.  Mostly notably, in 1998 thirty horses were released in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone in Ukraine and Belarus, now boasting of over 100 animals
• ·     Reintroduction of zoo-bred horses into the wild continues, most notably through Prague Zoo’s Return of the Wild Horses program, which continues to reintroduce captive-bred wild horses into the Great Gobi B Strictly Protected Area in Mongolia.  A key challenge to establishing the species back in the wild has been a series of unusually harsh winters and small population size.  Other zoos have contributed horses to other projects, including in China and Kazakhstan

Building a Desert

At my zoo, we called it the Great Bison Desert.  The city maintenance department had been supposed to drop off several truckloads of dirt for the exhibit.  Instead, through a bureaucratic screwup, the brought sand.  The curator at the time was too much of a chicken to tell them they screwed up, but hey, she wasn't the one who had to take care of the exhibit (or live in it), was she?  So instead, we'd plod through the shifting sand every day, looking for bison patties and cursing her under our breath, making jokes about swapping the bison out for camels.  

Within a week of the curator leaving, we were on the phone with the city requesting dirt for that exhibit.

It still wasn't the Great Plains, but it was a better environment for the animals than our pseudo-Sahara.

You'd think a desert would be an easy exhibit to replicate in a zoo.  Its dry and its open and there are limited plants.  If that's your sole definition of it, then yes, it's pretty easy.  A lot of old-style zoo hoofstock yards look kinda deserty.  A lot of exhibits in reptile houses are sand and rock with a backdrop mural of cacti.  

In reality, a lot of animals in the wild don't live out in the open desert that you might think of from Hollywood, with sand dunes and a few cacti and bleached cattle skulls grinning up at you under a blazing sun.  Sure, some do, especially those that are very adapted to going long times without water, such as Arabian oryx.  Most live in areas that might look more like very dry grasslands, or around oases or other small bodies of water.  

A challenge that a lot of zoos have with creating desert habitats is the vista.  Deserts tend to be open, wide places - but if you leave a zoo exhibit open and wide, a) visitors are either looking at buildings, roads, and other structures and b) the animals are being looked at from all sides.  Such exhibits may also look a little featureless and boring.  So, many zoos decide to make their deserts quite rocky, with fake-rock disguised buildings and walls surrounding the enclosure.  (A lot of zoo exhibits, to be fair, are built in this mold.  When I visited Africa for the first time, I remember being amused by the lack of giant rock outcrops every fifty yards, often forming suspiciously straight lines.

Size isn't everything in most categories, but the best (and by that I mean most convincing) desert exhibits I've seen have been the biggest ones - the coyote and peccary exhibits at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, the bighorn exhibits at Living Desert and Phoenix Zoo, the California condor aviary at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park.  These exhibits are all big, well-vegetated, have decent terrain, and have minimal barriers.  That they all feature native species in native habitats doesn't hurt.

Deserts have a special kind of beauty, as do all ecosystems.  It's a kind of beauty, however, that can be difficult to translate to a zoo exhibit, especially when lots of space is not readily available.  For those facilities that have been able to pull it off, however, the results can be spectacular.

Humpty Dumpty

 "The camel's hump is an ugly lump, which well you may see at the Zoo

But uglier yet is the hump we get, from having too little to do."

- Rudyard Kipling

I've seldom gotten my way with naming animals, though I do think I come up with some pretty nifty ideas - though the groans of co-workers might suggest that this is not a universal opinion.  For example. when we had a baby llama (called a "cria") born at one zoo I worked at, I suggested the name Humphrey.  Because a llama is basically a camel, but it's... hump-free.  I had to dodge a well-aimed tomatoes after that suggestion, which led me to the future rule of no more puns in the commissary.

Camels have several adaptations that make them exceptional survivalists in the desert.  They have broad, flat feet that help support their weight on the shifting sands.  They have long eyelashes to keep the sand out of their eyes during storms.  Their nostrils trap water vapor for their exhalation for reabsorption into their bodies.  And, of course, there is their signature feature, the hump.

Contrary to popular belief, the hump is not actually a water tank.  Well, not directly, anyway.  You won't hear any sloshing sound as one walks by.  It's actually a source of fat.   Now, fat does release water when it is broken down - but the process takes water as well, so it's not really the storage system you might think it is.  And it wouldn't be accurate to say that camels don't need water.  They love to drink.  A big bull camel can drink over 50 gallons in three minutes.  That was driven home to me one hot summer day when I visited our camels and saw that they had tipped their water trough, and it was almost empty.  I started to refill it, and one of them started drinking a minute later - I was unable to actually make the water level rise until he stopped drinking - he was sucking it up faster than the hose could refill it.

So camels don't store water (apologies to the Camelback water bottle brand) - they aren't even the mammals that can go the longest without it.  They are just really, really good at not wasting the water that they have consumed.  Their urine is more like a syrup than a liquid, and their poop is so dry that, from the moment it comes out the back end, it's a perfectly usable source of fire fuel.  Their kidneys and intestines can wring the last drop to make sure nothing is wasted.  Their blood cells are uniquely adapted to go back and forth from dehydration to sudden influxes of oceans of drinking water.

Factoids like this impress upon me two lessons.  First of all, we should never let our mythology about an animal impact the care it receives.  I remember scolding a new keeper once who had neglected to water the camels on a hot day, only for her to look at me like I was an idiot and say, "...they're camels.  They'll be fine."  She didn't last too long in the profession.  Secondly, there are lots of "facts" about animals which are untrue.   Rather than propagate those legends by passing them down year after year, even when we know they are false, as some sort of traditional lore, we should strive to teach future generations the truth.  

When it comes to animals, the truth is often much, much cooler than the story.

Confusing Camels

There is probably no animal with a more iconic association with the desert than the camel.  Or "camels," I should say - there are three species.  That was news to me when I heard it a few months ago.  For most of my life, I'd always thought that there were just two living species of camel.  The single-humped dromedary, or Arabian camel, and the two-humped Bactrian camel.  To remember the difference between the two, I was taught, all you had to do was take the first letter of their names and lay them on their sides. A "D" as one hump.  A "B" has two.

The one-humped camel exists nowhere in the world as a true wild animal.  It is found in North Africa and the Middle East as a domestic animal, and like all domestic animals there are a few ferals out there.  Except for Australia, where there are a lot of ferals, and the species is established and breeding in the wild.  The two-humped camel, I've since learned, is now divided into two species.  There are the domesticated ones, found throughout central Asia.  There are also the vanishingly rare wild ones, critically endangered, found only in the remotest corner of China and Mongolia.  Originally, the wild camels were considered to be feral escapees of the domesticated Bactrian camel, until DNA evidence confirmed that the two were separate species.  When one cares to look at them, there are physical differences between the wild and domestic Bactrians, from the size of the humps to the shape of the feet and head - the native Mongolian people called the wild camel the "flat head."

I'd seen many two-humped camels in the course of my zoo travels, even cared for a few, but all of them have been of the domestic stock.  To be far, a lot of zoos kind of gloss over the distinction between wild and domestic camels and treat their animals as if they are the wild species (a practice I've also seen with other Asian ungulates with common domestic animals and rare wild ones - yaks and water buffalo).  It could be considered slightly dishonest messaging, or just the use of a stand in - though I don't know of any zoo that would, for example, use a domestic dog as a stand in for a gray wolf without mentioning the difference.  That being said, I doubt many visitors would notice the camel substitution.

If zoos don't exhibit wild Bactrian camels, it's because there aren't many to go around.  The animals are very rare, with their habitat disappearing and their living space being increasingly encroached upon - including by domestic Bactrian camels, with which they will interbreed (especially when finding wild mates gets harder and harder.

The confusion between the wild and domestic camels is something that zoos should work to clarify, rather than muddy the waters on.  If people are left with the impression that there are plenty of two-humped camels out there, or that the wild ones are simply domestic ones on the loose, it will seriously impede efforts to conserve the endangered wild camels.  I've no objection to zoos exhibiting the domestic ones, and even using them as a stand in - I've seen them mixed with wild Asian hoofstock as a Mongolian steppes exhibit before, for example.  But the exhibition of Bactrian camels in zoos should a) acknowledge the existence of the wild population and b) serve to raise awareness, funds, and support for protecting the more endangered camels in the wild.

Book Review: Cry of the Kalahari

 "One of the other jackal pairs... began calling east of the Twin Acacias, their strident, quavering, and strangely melodic cries ringing through the valley.  We fell silent, moved, as always, by the mournful sound.  I t seemed to come from the very heart of the desert - the cry of the Kalahari."

In 1974, husband-and-wife Mark and Delia Owens, freed from academia and tired of the humdrum existence, decided to cut their teeth as field biologists.  Selling everything that they owned, they picked up stakes and relocated to Botswana, driving off into the heart of the Kalahari Desert.  With almost no money, no connections, and no real idea what they were doing, they set off to see what they could learn about the wildlife of the hauntingly beautiful, yet harsh and unforgiving, landscape.

The Owenses eventually found success as biologists, making several significant discoveries and writing papers.  This is not the summation of their scholarly work.  Instead, Cry of the Kalahari is a memoir of their struggle to survive and prove themselves in one of Africa's great wildernesses.  The Owenses immersed themselves in the world of black-backed jackals, desert lions, and brown hyenas, with the carnivores often settling into their campsite.  So removed were they from human habituation that many of the animals had likely never seen humans before and showed a degree of tolerance and fearlessness that the biologists never expected to encounter.  Whether it was hyenas interrupting them in the bath or waking up in the morning surrounded by lions, the Owenses certainly got what they came for - an unobstructed view into the lives of Africa's carnivores.

As is often the case in this field, the line between study and activism began to erode over the course of the book.  It proves impossible for the biologists to not be made aware of the threats which face their study subjects and not to take steps to address them.  Those steps would place the Americans in conflict with the powerful Botswanan beef industry, eventually (outside the scope of this book) resulting in their expulsion from Botswana and moving their operations to Zambia.  Even more poignant is the conflict between wildlife conservation and big game hunting, touted by many African governments (and not entirely unjustly) as a source of revenue needed to sustain the impoverished countries.  In one of the saddest passages of the book, a favorite study subject of the Owenses is killed (legally) by hunters - very shortly after they'd recounted that animal's story to those same hunters over a friendly dinner.

The Cry of the Kalahari is an excellent recap of conservation of magnificent animals that are already surviving just on the edge of a perilous landscape.  Our actions as humans - whether killing them directly, altering the landscape with agriculture, or draining water resources - can make what it already a precarious balancing act an impossibility to survive. 

Wildlife conservation in Africa is often portrayed as the conflict between European and American outsiders and African people, sort of a neocolonialism.  In that light, it would be irresponsible of me, perhaps, not to mention that the Owenses later came under controversy on account of their shoot-to-kill policy towards poachers, ending the killing of a Zambian poacher years after the events of this book.  The family is still wanted for questioning in Zambia pertaining to the shooting.

Turning back to the book itself, the narration is split, with some chapters being told from Mark's perspective, others from Delia's.  On top of the animal aspect, the book is a good read filled with action and danger, from venomous snakes to bushfires to plane crashes.  There is plenty of emotional drama as well.  Anyone who has ever devoted themselves to the difficult cause of wildlife conservation will recognize the gnawing doubt and uncertainty of the work, which often feels like an impossible, thankless task.

This book recently came back to my mind when Ms. Owens (they are now divorced) had her first fiction book, Where the Crawdads Sing, turned into a movie.  I've always thought that few natural history/field biology sagas would be better suited to a silver screen adaptation than Cry of the Kalahari.

Cry of the Kalahari at Amazon.com

Keeper Compensation: Passion vs. Pragmatism

Keeper Compensation: Passion vs. Pragmatism 

I wanted to take a break from talking about deserts to share this article by the page Zoo Advisors about one of the most significant problems facing our field - the compensation of staff, most notably the keepers.  Keepers are the lifeblood of the zoo - which isn't to underplay the importance of other staff, animal and non-animal.  Their often-meager salaries not only seriously impact their wellbeing and ability to stay in the field, but, through constant turnover and loss of acquired knowledge, impact the ability of the zoo to carry out its mission of conservation.

Just Keep Cool

Having a hard time beating the heat?  Trying heading to the water, like these zoo animals

Kangaroos, San Antonio Zoo

Elephants, Denver Zoo

Ostrich, Niabi Zoo

From the News: Camel Dies of Heatstroke

Japan is Getting So Hot That a Camel Died of Heatstroke, Zoo Says

Man, I knew I'd written earlier about changing climates and the impact that warmer conditions could have on zoo animals, but this is ridiculous.  There's more to the story than just the heat - the camel's age, health, etc - but it does say something when Japan is seeing temperatures over 120 degrees Fahrenheit.  Besides the pets and zoo animals, which at least have people looking after them who can constantly provide water and shelter, it makes you worry about the wild animals that have not evolved for such extreme temperatures, and what the long-term implications may be.

The Desert By Night

Over the years, I've hiked in North America's major deserts - the Mojave, the Sonora, the Chihuahua - including Joshua Tree, Saguaro, and Big Bend National Parks.  I've loved the beautiful scenary and gorgeous plant life; the animal life is much more cryptic, but what I have seen has been remarkable.  The only thing is, you can only (enjoyable) hike or look for wildlife at certain times of the day.  Or, more satisfyingly, at certain times of night.  Midday in the desert is hell.

What is true for viewing animals in the wild also holds for animals in a zoo.

A colleague I knew from the Phoenix Zoo told me that they would shut down for the hottest parts of the day.  The one time I visited that zoo was part of a conference, so I got to explore it in the evening - still light enough to see animals, but much cooler.  As a result, I got to see every species.  If I'd been there hours earlier, I can't imagine what I would have seen.  Especially if I'd gone in the summer.  Checking their website now (August, 2022), it seems that they are open 7AM to 1PM.

On that same trip to Phoenix, I also visited the stellar Desert Botanical Garden.  Actually, I visited twice, once in the day, and the second time at night.  You got to see much better during the day trip, but at night, it was an extraordinary experience.  I loved wandering the trails under the stars, enjoying the cool breezes, and keeping ears open and a flashlight ready for any nocturnal animals that might be scurrying around.  Parts of the trail were dimly lit.  Others gave you a chance to experience the desert in darkness.

I wonder about the potential of nocturnal zoo visits at facilities in the southwest, especially those that primarily feature desert animals, such as the Living Desert.  Most desert animals are already inclined to be inactive during the hottest part of the day, so they could still rest while the sun is up without being bothered by visitors.  As the sunsets, they'd be more active just as visitors would start to come in.  Feeding, enrichment, training demos, and other activities could be scheduled then, naturally replicating the time of day when animals are more active.  Visitors would have a better experience since they a) would see more and more active animals and b) would not die of sunstroke.  Zoos would be more accessible to families on weeknights, maybe helping to make weekends less chaotic and crowded.

The main challenge that I would see would be the staff, having to man the place and carry out operations outside of regular business hours, but who knows?  Maybe there's a legion of night-owl zookeepers who'd be up for shunning the 9-5 routine in favor of a more nocturnal existence.

Species Fact Profile: Meerkat (Suricata suricatta)

                                                                  Meerkat                                                                                                                                     Suricata suricatta (Schreber, 1776)

Range: Southern Africa (South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and into SW Angola)

Habitat:  Arid Grassland, Open Woodland, Semi-Desert

Diet: Insects (80% of the animal portion of their diet, with other invertebrates making up another 10%), Eggs, Plant Matter, some Reptiles and Birds.  

Social Grouping: Packs of up to 30, consisting of multiple family groups

Reproduction: Breeding can take place year round, but largely depends on local environmental conditions, breed when food and water are plentiful, may be paused by times of drought.  Gestation is 11 weeks.  Females can have up to 3 litters (average of 3, but up to 7, young per litter) per year. Young are altricial.  Ears open at 10 days old, eyes at 10-14.  Require simulation from mother in order to excrete or urinate.  Weaned at 7-9 weeks. Sexually mature at 1 year, though females usually breed for the first time at 2 years old.  

Lifespan: 5-10 Years (Wild), Up to 12 Years (Zoo)

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern

•       Head and body length 25-35 centimeters, with thin, tapering tail an additional 17-25 centimeters.  Females average 720 grams, males slightly larger at 730 grams.  Face, legs, and body are all very slender.  Fore-claws are enlarged for digging.  Ears are small.
•       Coat is grey, tan, or brown, sometimes with a silver tint, distinctive black tip on the tail, brown on nose and dark patches around eyes.  Meerkats from the northern part of the range tend to be lighter, darker in the south.  Dark horizontal bands on the dorsal surface (excluding head and tail).  Ventral surface is very sparsely haired.
•       Male offspring emigrate from their birth pack when mature, may try to found or take over another, sometimes forming coalitions
•       Males assist in caring for young, as do non-breeding helpers in the pack, which guard and provision the young, or babysit to allow the mother to feed
•       Live in packs that may consist of up to 3 family groups, totaling about 30 individuals per pack.  Each family unit has a breeding pair and their offspring.  Life within packs usually peaceable, but neighboring packs may be rivals and fight violently.  Home ranges are about 5 square kilometers, marked by communal latrines
•       Burrow system is about 5 meters in diameter with about 15 openings, consisting of multiple tunnels that provide different microclimates.  A territory may consist of several burrow systems 50-100 meters apart, used on a rotational basis.  May also live in rock crevices.  Burrows may be shared with a variety of species, including other mongooses, rock hyraxes, and a variety of rodents, including springhaas, gerbils, grass mice
•       In areas with little moisture, may chew on melons or dig up roots and tubers
•       Post sentinels while foraging, often seen standing erect from a high position.  Sentinel duty rotates throughout the day.  Predators include raptors (especially martial eagles) and jackals.  Display different alarm calls in presence of different predators, may mob predators if in numbers.  Parents may cover offspring to hide from aerial predators
•       Active by day, but activity determined by soil temperature.  On cold or rainy days, stay underground in the burrows.  Likewise, if it is too hot, they will retreat underground.  Will sunbathe or huddle to keep warm
•       Common name from the Dutch for a kind of monkey, derived from the Old High German meer (“lake”) and kat (“cat”).  Name was used by Dutch settlers for a variety of burrowing animals, and is sometimes applied to other mongooses (this species is sometimes called the slender-tailed meerkat).
•       Three recognized subspecies – the nominate in southern Namibia and Botswana and South Africa, S. s. majoriae in central and northern Namibia, and S. s. iona in Angola
•       Regarded as agricultural pests in some parts of their range, both due to their burrows and to the diseases they can carry, including rabies.
•       Subject of long term study, the Kalahari Meerkat Project by Tim Clutton-Brock, which studies cooperative behavior among meerkats. Species is very popularly depicted in nature documentaries, especially the Animal Planet series Meetkat Manner, which followed the Kalahari Meerkat Project. 
•        Notable examples of the species in popular culture include Timon, the meerkat from The Lion King, and the island-dwelling semi-aquatic meerkats from Yann Martel’s Life of Pi

Drink Up, Thirsty Rhino

The new black rhino exhibit at the Living Desert Zoo and Gardens wasn't quite finished at the time of my visit.  Sure, the public could walk through it, and rhinos were present and on display, but it was clear that finishing touches had to be made.  This was especially true with the landscaping.  When I walked by, horticulture staff were installing plants, watering them heavily to get them established.  The decent-sized pool for the rhinos (where pink-backed pelicans would later swim) was being filled up.

It made me slightly uncomfortable, I admit, to see all of this water and greenery being used for what was ostensibly a desert display, even if the water was recycled.

The thing is, that's probably what the rhinos themselves would want.  They don't care about landscaping, I mean, but a big pond to drink or wallow in, and plenty of vegetation?  Who wouldn't want that?  Black rhinos live (or lived, at any rate, before we decimated their numbers) in some arid landscapes, from the Sudan to the Kalahari.  Some of that habitat looks pretty bleak and desolate, and water might not be found as readily or as plentifully as they'd like.  Some of the other species in the collection of the Living Desert might never encounter fresh standing water in their lives.

It poses the question, do you want to provide optimal animal welfare, which in some (perhaps most) cases means making things easier on the animal than in the wild?  Or do you try to replicate natural conditions as much as possible, which can mean leaving the animal thirsty or hungry or hot or cold sometimes?

Unless there are special circumstances, such as preparing an animal for release into the wild, I tend to be a coddler.  If an animal is in the wild, it can, to the best of its ability, make all of its own decisions.  In a zoo setting, that responsibility falls to us, and we owe it to the animal to make it as comfortable and content as we can.

Zoo Review: Living Desert Zoo and Gardens, Part II

Continuing the tour of the Living Desert...

Tucked away among the extensive gardens of the grounds is the zoo's small Australian area.  Like many zoo displays of this continent, the exhibit is dominated by a wallaby walkthrough, where docents monitor visitor interactions with red-necked wallabies hoping across the trail or retreating to private, out-of-reach sections.  At most zoos, that sums up Australia.  Living Desert does it a bit better; the habitat is framed with smaller pens for other Aussie animals, including short-beaked echidna and yellow-footed rock wallaby, as well as a few habitats of birds and reptiles.  Directly outside the Australian walkabout is a paddock of emus.  A small reptile house is also nearby, featuring North American species, such as Gila monsters and a variety of rattlesnakes.

The Living Desert may have started off as an American collection, but it's Africa that now dominates the grounds.  This is especially made clear with the newest exhibit, located directly at the entrance - Rhino Savanna.  Black rhinos are the stars here, sharing the habitat with pelicans, springbok, and waterbuck.  A nearby cave structure houses a complex tunnel system of naked mole rats.  Located by the rhinos are the other giants of the zoo, giraffes, sharing a yard with ostrich and greater kudu.  Giraffes are a species that, while extremely popular with visitors, I feel often get the short-end of zoo displays - basically a dusty flat yard with an elevated feeding rack, and (increasingly often) a deck for visitors to feed them from.  This exhibit was stellar - it was a sprawling grassy savanna, rolling off seemingly forever into the distance until the mountains in the backdrop, studded with tall trees.  It looked more like giraffe habitat than some of the wild giraffe habitat I've seen.  It also seemed to have more varied terrain than most exhibits I've seen.  There is a tendency to treat giraffes as if they are made of glass and will shatter if kept in anything other than the most carefully managed (read: boring) yards.  Living Desert defies that convention.  The black rhino and giraffe exhibits might be the best for either species that I've ever seen.

Nearby the giraffes is a recreated African village, with habitats for leopard (the Amur subspecies of the Russian Far East serving as an awkward stand-in for the leopards of Africa's deserts) and striped hyena.  Outside of the village are habitats for more African carnivores - African wild dogs, cheetahs, fennec and bat-eared foxes - as well as tortoises, rock hyraxes, warthogs, and a few small aviaries of African birds.  Most of the remainder of the African area is dedicated to African hoofstock, including Grevy's zebras, addra gazelle, and addax; Arabian oryx, an Asian desert species, are also found here.  As, of course, are the quintessential desert species - camels (though if I was in charge of planning a desert zoo, I'd be putting the camels much more front-and-center is a more high-profile exhibit).

The next plan on the agenda for Living Desert is a new habitat for African lions.  Here lies one of the challenges of a desert-themed zoo; with the exception of obligate rainforest species (such as apes) or Arctic species (polar bears), you can call a lot of species deserts.  Penguins?  They can be found on the desert coasts of South America and Africa.  Crocodiles?  Desert oases in the Sahara.  I'm actually a little surprised that Living Desert is completely primate free at this point.  No hamadryas baboons from the Arabian Peninsula?  Ring-tailed lemurs from dry thorn forests of Madagascar?  I wonder if, as Living Desert grows and adds animals, it will risk losing its identity as a desert facility.  The bird and reptile collections could have used more of a boast, also, with a bit strong of a focus on large mammals.  Unlike many AZA zoos and aquariums, Living Desert is privately operated; I wonder if the lack of tax income means that the zoo is a bit more selective about species selection / public appeal than it might otherwise be.

Not that I was worrying about that while I was there.  I absolutely loved the facility.  The exhibits were great - even the "worst" of their habitats compared favorably to many zoos.  The signage was great.  I loved the gardens and emphasis on desert plant life.  And Living Desert's conservation commitments are well-known in the zoo community, not only abroad, but locally, working with endangered native species.  Heck, I saw tons of native wildlife on grounds alone, and that's not even taking into account the remote hiking trails.  I'd would consider this facility a must-see if you're in the region - easily done in association with the nearby Joshua Tree National Park.

Zoo Review: Living Desert Zoo and Gardens, Part I

At first glance, the Living Desert Zoo and Gardens (often referred to simply as Living Desert, but not to be confused with the zoo of that same name in Carlsbad, New Mexico) would appear to be very similar to the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum of Tucson, Arizona.  There are key differences between the two.  Firstly, the Living Desert, located outside of Palm Springs, California, is more zoological in focus.  It has extensive, beautiful gardens, to be sure, but there is less of a focus on the geological, paleontological, and historical aspects of the desert.  Secondly, unlike ASDM, which is focused solely on the wildlife of the surrounding Sonora, the Living Desert has a worldwide approach to its collection, featuring animals of the deserts of five continents.  It, too, was initially focused on North American deserts, but has since increasingly placed emphasis on its stellar African collection.

The facility began its life as a collection of native wildlife that was managed under the aegis of the Palm Springs Desert Museum; two facility later split off and became independent, with its former parent organization moving towards an art museum identity.  The initial collection was North American focused, and while that emphasis has since diluted, it still features some excellent exhibits.  Among these is perhaps the most recognizable of its habitats, Bighorn Mountain, which is essentially a small mountain, enclosed by fencing, that houses a herd of desert bighorn sheep.  It can be difficult to spot the elusive ungulates, which can be found wild not far from the zoo's gates, but with a little patience some can usually be found.  The view is especially rewarding when one of the rams takes its position at the top of the mountain, overlooking the entire park and keeping an eye on the ewes and lambs foraging below.  Nearby, a much flatter, but also spacious, yard houses another rare native ungulate, the peninsular pronghorn.

Most of the North American exhibits are grouped around Eagle Canyon.  With a name like that, I'd been expecting... well, a canyon.  Instead, this is one of the few building habitats at the zoo, with an aviary of golden and bald eagles stationed directly out front.  The views of the birds aren't particular spectacular, but zoo eagles are often non-releasable wild-born birds with injuries, so I suppose the reduced viewing could help provide the birds with some privacy.  Inside the building are exhibits of native reptiles and amphibians, before emptying out onto a walkway that passes several species of carnivore.  Historically this trail only had native species, but a small number of exotics have intruded over the years.  Pumas are the species that most visitors will be the most eager to see, but bobcat, caracal, three species of rarely-displayed North American fox (kit, swift, and my first ever island fox), American badger, and "ring-tailed cats" (actually relatives of raccoons) can be found here.  Many of the carnivore exhibits are matched up with dens fitted with viewing windows, which can allow the visitors a peek in at the animals at rest.  These exhibits wrap around a small walk-in wetland aviary, home to herons, ducks, and songbirds of the southwest.

Towards the end of Eagle Canyon is a habitat of Chacoan peccary, one of the few South American species on display at the zoo; this exhibit was initially for the native collared peccaries, which have been gradually phased-out of AZA zoos in support of the program to breed the endangered Chacoans.  Next door is an overlook of a habitat of endangered Mexican grey wolves.  I've often found wolves to be poor exhibit animals; one that the visitors are all very eager to see, but inclined to hide.  Here, I saw the wolves very active and easily observed, but not seeming nervous or frantic, as wolves often appear when out in the open.

Other North American exhibits nearby include coyote, white-nosed coati, desert tortoises, prairie dogs, and, one of the most pleasant exhibits (though not for animal viewing, really) a small oasis, fringed with palms, that houses a population of desert pupfish.  There are rocking chairs nearby facing the pond, making this a relaxing spot to sit and maybe do some light birdwatching.  Speaking of birdwatching, nearby is a series of small aviaries of desert birds, including some rarely seen species.  Besides the pleasure of seeing the zoo birds, the aviaries also attract wild birds; during my visit, I saw a wild greater roadrunner coming up to the mesh to commune with the zoo's roadrunner.  Tucked away behind the aviary is a habitat for jaguar, a species that many of us think of as a jungle cat, but one which historically occupied the deserts of the southwest as well.  The jaguar habitat might have been the exhibit I found in greatest need of an overall; I especially thought that it was too low, and would benefit from greater height and added vertical complexity.  

Scattered among the exhibits are extensive gardens, most of which - but not all - highlighting the cacti and other desert plants of the American southwest.  There are also model railroads (one of the world's largest systems) and a kid's discovery room (sort of a small, child-geared natural history museum), as well as hiking trails out into the desert to provide additional wildlife and scenery viewing opportunities.  Tomorrow, we'll resume with a look at the exotic components of Living Desert.

Living Desert Zoo and Gardens

The Big Dry

One of the most important factors to consider when planning a zoo's animal collection is climate.  It's not an especially important factor for very small animals, like most reptiles - they are usually kept inside in climate-controlled habitats no matter where in the world they are kept - but for larger animals, it can be essential.  

Sure, there are plenty of popular zoo animals - lions, zebras, kangaroos - which seem to do just fine outdoors all, or at least most of, the year whether they are in Minneapolis or Miami.  Many others, however, get extremely uncomfortable if they are kept outside their preferred temperature zone.  This is especially true for northern species, which is why you don't see too many exhibits of moose or wolverine, especially outside of their native range.  Minnesota Zoo made the news last year when it decided to phase out one of its most iconic species, muskox, because they could no longer be comfortably kept in the increasingly warm Minnesota summers.

Temperature might soon be supplanted by an even more important factor - rainfall.  We continue to see record droughts brought about, requiring tighter and tighter water usage restrictions in parts of the country.  Perhaps that means it's time to start rethinking what zoo animals we keep in, say, the southwest.

All animals need water.  Some just happen to need more than others.  Among the zoo species which often receive enormous pools are elephants, hippos, polar bears, seals and sea lions, otters, penguins, and crocodilians.  Many other species like a good soak and require pools at least large enough to submerge in, such as tapirs, capybaras, brown bears.  The fact is, even animals that we don't think of as aquatic like bodies of water to splash in or swim in; I've seen an ostrich standing at the bottom of a deep pool, with only a foot or so of it's head and neck protruding from the water.  Access to plentiful water to allow natural behaviors is just good welfare.

The solution to increasing drought isn't to restrict animals from water.  It might be best to admit that some species aren't suited to certain changing climates, and place emphasis on more arid-land species in those regions - or maybe having one or two large aquatic exhibits instead of four or five or ten in those zoos.  There will still be ample parts of the country that are wet enough for hippos and seals.

Before doing any water restrictions on animals, there are plenty of other ways that zoos could look at being better citizens as far as water usage.  For one thing, removing any grassy lawns in favor of local, drought-resistant plants would save lots of water.  Thoroughly auditing plumbing systems for leaks and inefficiencies is another.  Using rainwater (rain barrels make great educational features) or "gray water" whenever possible will also help reduce water usage and can help educate visitors about ways that they can conserve water at their own homes.

We're living on a changing planet, and in parts of that planet, it means that it's getting hotter and drier.  Zoos, like any other institution, will have to adapt.