Sporcle Quiz: Sporcle at the Zoo - Cranes

Sporcle at the Zoo: Cranes

The International Crane Foundation provided a great opportunity to learn about the world's crane species.  How much do you know about these elegant, enchanting birds?  Find out here!

Enough About Kiwis

And, having said my piece about the kiwi controversy, we will move on from those birds.  I'll leave you with this shocking display of cannibalism before we go...

Thoughts About Pāora

The first inkling I'd had about the controversy surrounding Pāora, the kiwi at Zoo Miami, was a post on a zookeeper facebook group.  The story was just starting to bubble up on social media, and it was being shared in the vein of "Hey, if you guys didn't know that this was heading your way, it is, so be prepared."

Response from the collective keeper community was, as it is in most things, divided.  There were a few people who were defensive of the practice.  A few who were indignant and outraged (especially the New Zealanders).  And the majority, who were somewhere along the lines of, "Maybe not what I would have done, or considered best practice.  But let's talk this over."  Not being super familiar with kiwi husbandry, I was more of the middle path myself.

It helped to take that stance because I've seen a lot of people, especially outside the animal care community, take shocked, appalled stances on things that are... fine.  "Heavens to Betsy, this polar bear is being kept in a zoo where it temperatures can get hot, I've never seen such cruelty" (*swoons*).  Yeah, the bear is fine, it has cooled dens, a chilled pool, air conditioning, and it *lacks* the blubber that keeps wild polar bears warm.  "They're separating a mother and baby?  That's unspeakably evil!" - except the separation in many cases is caused by the mother actively driving off her essentially-adult offspring, as happens in the wild.  "This animal is alone and must be so sad!"  Want to see a whole new level of stress and misery?  Force inherently solitary animals into close quarters, just so they can have "friends."

I once had a visitor who was spitting mad that our alligators weren't more active and insisted that they were drugged.  Because our *alligators* - a species evolutionarily-inclined to sit still for days at a time without moving - weren't more active.  I almost cracked my skull face-palming myself.

So no, the news that a kiwi was exposed to light did not cause any particular moral outrage on my part.  Some of the New Zealand folks told the group that the handling they saw was not the safest or most appropriate way to handle kiwis, and I see no reason to question their expertise on that front, having none myself on that subject.  It does seem like a lot of the objections had to do more with the feelings of people in New Zealand than they really did the health, safety, or welfare of the individual bird.  Which is not to say that those feelings aren't important - but let's not conflate the two.  As I mentioned last post, I've participated in a meet-a-kiwi program before, and the bird showed zero signs of stress or agitation, accompanied by the keeper who raised him.

This reminds me of the overblown outrage over the Memphis Zoo pandas - though perhaps more organic and less bot-driven.  Sometimes, I think people just want to be outraged over something on the internet so that they can feel like they're doing something or making a difference.  And when that happens, it quickly gets boiled down to a good-vs-evil, right-vs-wrong narrative, where the other side is doubtlessly up to something sinister.  What gets lost in any conversation is any shade of nuance, any gray.

I think Miami made the right decision in ending the program, even though I don't think the kiwi was in any way being harmed by it.  Sometimes, it's important enough to make sure that no one even believes harm is taking place.   Still, it would be nice for people to engage in discussion sometimes, before immediately going for the old torch and pitchfork.

Wrath of the Kiwi

In a world that includes penguins, flamingos, and vampire finches, I still feel safe in saying that there are no stranger birds in the world than the kiwis.  Nicknamed the "Honorary Mammal," the birds are flightless, nocturnal, solitary, and covered with feathers that more closely resemble fur.  They hunt their prey by scent and lay eggs that are ridiculously out of proportion of their body size.  Seeing one of these enchanting birds is a unique opportunity, as very few zoos outside of their native New Zealand house them... and even if they do, good luck seeing them.  The birds are extremely hard to observe in their habitats - I only have a single memory of, as a visitor, going to a zoo and seeing a kiwi from a public exhibit area.

The National Zoo (which no longer has kiwis on public display, but does maintain and breed them at their off-site facility in Front Royal) used to rectify this by offering a "Meet a Kiwi" program a few times a week, in which a specially trained, habituated ambassador kiwi was wheeled out on a cart for small groups of people to observe.  Perhaps this was the inspiration for Zoo Miami's kiwi encounter program with their bird, a male named Pāora.  Unlike National Zoo's program - which, to be fair, took place in an era less-dominated by social media - the reaction from much of the public was... decidedly less positive.

I'd always known that kiwis held a special place in the hearts and culture of New Zealanders, who will refer to themselves as kiwis.  I hadn't realized how intense it was, extending to a strong disapproval of seeing kiwis handled.  Pictures of the Miami program - which featured the kiwi under regular lighting (as was the case in DC, from my recollection) and being handled prompted an outrage in New Zealand.  It wasn't helped by the fact that there were some rumors that the kiwi in question was the product of an egg that had been smuggled form New Zealand (completely untrue - the egg was laid in Front Royal and hatched in Miami).  There were calls for New Zealand to demand the repatriation of the bird (which there is no legal basis for - the bird is owned by Miami, not New Zealand).  And all of this brewing in just a day or so.

Miami, to their credit, got ahead of it as best they can.  They assured everyone that the bird was in good health and not being mistreated, acknowledged that seeing the kiwi handled in light was jarring and upsetting for many New Zealanders, apologized for the offense, and announced an end to the kiwi encounter program.  Pāora will remain off-exhibit until a new nocturnal habitat is built for him.

Kiwi Statement from Zoo Miami

It's sometimes jarring how quickly public perceptions of animal care can change.  By responding quickly, Miami seems to have largely calmed critics - kiwi-focused NGOs in New Zealand have declared themselves satisfied with the outcome.   I'll share my thoughts on the controversy in the next post. 

eBird is the Word

As sort of a new year's resolution, I've been trying to make more time for birdwatching.  Part of it is for relaxation and mindfulness, as well as a general appreciation for being outdoors.  Besides that, there's a lot of fun to it - sort of like how people enjoy playing Pokemon Go, only this time for real.  There's the sense of adventure in knowing that you never know what you're going to find, and how no two days will be the exact same.  There's the challenge of spotting birds, figuring out what they are, and understanding what it is they're doing and why.

I'm a bit of a latecomer to the game, but there are two tools that I've recently added to my equipment alongside my binoculars and field guide to help myself become a better birder.  The first is the Merlin app, created by the Cornell University's Lab of Ornithology.  Merlin records and identifies bird vocalizations, then, based on where you are, generates a list of the birds that you are hearing.  The names of the individual species light up as they are singing, and puts an identifying mark alongside the names of uncommon birds.  You can save these recordings too for future study.  

I have absolutely no ear for bird songs and, to this day, still can't remember what song goes to what bird, let alone describe a song for someone else, though I acknowledge that others are not so auditorily-stricken as myself.  I mostly use it for generating a list of what birds are within earshot of me, which can provide me with a list of possible candidates for unidentified birds that I've seen.  There is also a photo ID feature, where uploaded photos can be identified by AI.

The second tool is eBird, also by Cornell's Lab of O.  eBird is a website in which you can create an online account and essentially journal the birds you've seen.  You record what and how many birds you've seen in space and time, using detailed maps.  This data can then be used to help identify where and when birds are in certain places, which can be of service to both scientists and casual birders.  For example, if you are going to, say, California and you really want to see California condors in the wild, you can use eBird to determine where the best places are to look for condors, and when they were most likely seen there.  It can help track trends in the presence (or absence) of birds.  Changes in range, caused by climate change, habitat loss, or the introduction of species, can also be reflected here.  

I had a teacher in high school who first got me into birdwatching; he liked to say that as soon as someone come up with a new hobby, someone will be sure to find a way to make it more expensive and complicated.  Both of these programs are free to use.  Adding them to your birdwatching routine can make the task a bit more complicated, to be sure - and time-consuming, depending on how much time you spend logging the data.  I would argue, though, that using these tools can help provide more context and a better understanding of what you are experiencing when birdwatching.  It can also potentially provide data which has the ability to enhance our ability to study and protect the birds that we watch and admire.

"I Think I Saw A..." "No, No You Didn't."

It's hard to keep a good bird down... or extinct, as the situation may (or may not) be.  Recently, trail camera and drone footage in the bottomland hardwood forests of Louisiana, placed by researchers from the National Aviary, suggests the possibility that the iconic ivory-billed woodpecker may have cheated death yet again and still be with us.  The pictures are not of the highest quality, as footage taken in the wild tends to be, so the debate is hardly settled.  The folks from the National Aviary are, of course, bird experts, so I'm willing to give them the benefit of a doubt.

Mounted specimen at California Academy of Sciences.  Photo credit Haven Daley, AP

You know who I'm not giving the benefit of a doubt to?  The facebook comments section of every single article posted about the potential reappearance of this species.  To hear these folks say it, if you throw a brick up in the air, it's going to knock five or six ivory-bills out of the sky.

The news comments above, just for the record, are from a randomly selected story out of Baltimore, with the commenters being from central Maryland - where this species never occurred.

I don't know why this bothers me so much.  Partially it's the sheer confidence of being incorrect.  Partially, it's like they're trying to top someone else's story and (potential) good news: "Pfft, I see those all the time, big deal."  Then, it can be a hassle for researchers who are actually within the historic range of the species to be buried under false sightings by wishful thinkers.  Lastly, if the specie is still around, it can make it that much harder to shore up conservation support and protection, especially if everyone thinks the bird is so common already.

I wish the media, when reporting these stories, would do a better job of helping with identification.  Every single one of these folks probably saw a pileated woodpecker - which is an absolutely awesome bird, and one that I am always thrilled to see, but which is NOT an ivory-bill.  Instead, we get ignorant news stories like the one below, encouraging and legitimizing these false sightings.

Rare woodpecker thought to be extinct reportedly spotted in Ohio

This story is from Ohio.  Also not the range of the ivory-bill.

Species Fact Profile: Orinoco Goose (Neochen jubata)

                                                               Orinoco Goose

                                                       Neochen jubata (Spix, 1825)

Range: Orinoco and Amazon River Basins in South America, from Colombia and Venezuela south to eastern Bolivia, western Paraguay, and northern Argentina

Habitat:  Riverine Forest, Wet Savannahs, Freshwater Wetlands (prefer waterways with sandy beach access).  Prefer still water, such as lakes

Diet: Aquatic and terrestrial grasses, supplemented by some terrestrial and aquatic invertebrates (mollusks, insects)

Social Grouping: Territorial pairs during breeding season, more social outside breeding 

Reproduction: Monogamous, long-lasting pairs.  Nest in a tree cavity lined with down.  Female lays 6-15 pale brown-cream eggs, incubated for 30 days.  Male guards the nest while the female incubates

Lifespan: 20 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Near Threatened

• Body length 60-75 centimeters.  Males are slightly heavier than females, weighing an average of 1.5 kilograms to 1.2 kilograms for females
• Sexes look alike.  Head, neck, and breast are pale gray-buff, some darker mottling and striations along the back and sides of the neck.  Flack and belly are chestnut; back, rump, and tail are a greenish-black.  Wings are purple-to-greenish-black with a white patch at the bass.  Legs are red.  Bill is black with a touch of pink.  Juveniles have duller plumage than adults
• Primarily terrestrial, but sometimes perch in trees, especially during breeding season.  Only fly or swim if heavily pressed, don’t do either very well.  Heavy flight led to association with geese
• Males display for females by standing up extremely erect and pulling back their heads, expanding their chest, and flapping their wings.  Become very territorial during the breeding season.  Males communicate a high pitched whistle, females with a loud cackle
• Largely sedentary, usually only making local movements between feeding and roosting sites, but it has been determined that some populations are migratory, with some populations traveling hundreds of miles depending on rain patterns
• Often listed as the only living member of the genus Neochen (at least three fossil species are described).  Sometimes allied with the Andean geese.  More closely related to the shelducks than to the true geese
• Decreasing population – estimate 10,000 – 25,000 mature individuals in wild.  Still occupies a wide range, but declining throughout except in strongholds.  Decline presumably driven by a combination of habitat loss for agricultural use and hunting pressure
• Occasional sightings in Florida, but these are not believed to represent a breeding population, just the occasional escapee or released bird
• Migration may result in increased disease transmission; it is believed that the geese may pick up Toxoplasma gondii and Neospora caninum from domestic fields where the birds layover during migration; when birds are hunted and eaten in Brazil and Bolivia, the parasites are transferred to humans in their meat

Thinking Like a Mountain

Aldo Leopold did much to advance the fledgling sciences of ecology and wildlife conservation through this technical work on populations and species interdependency.  Just as importantly, he helped push his conservation ethos through his popular writing, especially A Sand County Almanac.  His brief essay "Thinking Like a Mountain," included in that work, remains one of the most eloquent defenses for the need to conserve large predators that I've ever read - or had read to me.  The first time I heard it, it was read aloud by the late Dave Foreman, founder of the Rewilding Institute, at a talk that he gave.  I've shared it below:

"A deep chesty bawl echoes from rimrock to rimrock, rolls down the mountain, and fades into the far blackness of the night. It is an outburst of wild defiant sorrow, and of contempt for all the adversities of the world. Every living thing (and perhaps many a dead one as well) pays heed to that call. To the deer it is a reminder of the way of all flesh, to the pine a forecast of midnight scuffles and of blood upon the snow, to the coyote a promise of gleanings to come, to the cowman a threat of red ink at the bank, to the hunter a challenge of fang against bullet. Yet behind these obvious and immediate hopes and fears there lies a deeper meaning, known only to the mountain itself. Only the mountain has lived long enough to listen objectively to the howl of a wolf.

Those unable to decipher the hidden meaning know nevertheless that it 1S there, for it is felt in all wolf country, and distinguishes that country from all other land. It tingles in the spine of all who hear wolves by night, or who scan their tracks by day. Even without sight or sound of wolf, it is implicit in a hundred small events: the midnight whinny of a pack horse, the rattle of rolling rocks, the bound of a fleeing deer, the way shadows lie under the spruces. Only the ineducable tyro can fail to sense the presence or absence of wolves, or the fact that mountains have a secret opinion about them.

My own conviction on this score dates from the day I saw a wolf die. We were eating lunch on a high rimrock, at the foot of which a turbulent river elbowed its way. We saw what we thought was a doe fording the torrent, her breast awash in white water. When she climbed the bank toward us and shook out her tail, we realized our error: it was a wolf. A half-dozen others, evidently grown pups, sprang from the willows and all joined in a welcoming melee of wagging tails and playful mauUngs. What was literally a pile of wolves writhed and tumbled in the center of an open flat at the foot of our rimrock.

In those days we had never heard of passing up a chance to kill a wolf. In a second we were pumping lead into the pack, but with more excitement than accuracy: how to aim a steep downhill shot is always confusing. When our rifles were empty, the old wolf was down, and a pup was dragging a leg into impassable slide-rocks.

We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes. I realized then, and have known ever s'ince, that there was something new to me in those eyes ­ something known only to her and to the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters' paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view.

Since then I have lived to see state after state extirpate its wolves. I have watched the face of many a newly wolfless mountain, and seen the south-facing slopes wrinkle with a maze of new deer trails. I have seen every edible bush and seedling browsed, first to anaemic desuetude, and then to death. I have seen every edible tree defoliated to the height of a saddlehorn. Such a mountain looks as if someone had given God a new pruning shears, and forbidden Him all other exercise. In the end the starved bones of the hoped-for deer herd, dead of its own too-much, bleach with the bones of the dead sage, or molder under the high-lined junipers.

I now suspect that just as a deer herd Lives in mortal fear of its wolves, so does a mountain live in mortal fear of its deer. And perhaps with better cause, for while a buck pulled down by wolves can be replaced in two or three years, a range pulled down by too many deer may fail of replacement in as many decades. So also with cows. The cowman who cleans his range of wolves does not realize that he is taking over the wolfs job of trimming the herd to fit the range. He has not learned to think Uke a mountain. Hence we have dustbowls, and rivers washing the future into the sea.

We all strive for safety, prosperity, comfort, long life, and dullness. The deer strives with his supple legs, the cowman with trap and poison, the statesman with pen, the most of us with machines, votes, and dollars, but it all comes to the same thing: peace in our time. A measure of success in this is all well enough, and perhaps is a requisite to objective thinking, but too much safety seems to yield only danger in the long run. Perhaps this is behind Thoreau's dictum: In wildness is the salvation of the world. Perhaps this is the hidden meaning in the howl of the wolf, long known among mountains, but seldom perceived among men." 

A Cabin the Woods

I could have happily spent all afternoon at the International Crane Foundation, circling back and forth among the cranes... except that there was one other thing I wanted to see in Baraboo that day before continuing on my journey.  Tucked away on a rural road in Sauk County, just northeast of the town, a little trail snaked through the woods on the side of the road.  I would never have found it if not for the directions of the folks at the nearby museum and visitor center, about half a mile away.  Down the end of the trail was a clearing, and at the far side of the clearing was a shack.  

I'd waited for a long time to see that shack.

The man who built it, back in the 1930's, was Aldo Leopold, perhaps one of, if not the, greatest conservationist/writers in our country, sort of the forerunner to Rachel Carson.  Leopold taught at the University of Wisconsin, down in Madison, but whenever he could retreated to the little farm he maintained here.  Farming wasn't his main business, though.  He mostly came here to sit, to watch, to wander the woods, and to better familiarize himself with the natural world.  It was this matrix of woodland, wetland, and field that inspired Leopold to write his magnum opus, A Sand County Almanac.  (It's not where he physically wrote it, however - that was at his office in Madison.  Leopold doubtlessly would have had a hard time distracting himself from the woods and wildlife to write here).

Leopold was one of the first practitioners of the new science of ecology, the study of how environments and their living and non-living components fit together.  He was also one of  America's first scientific conservationists, and wrote the book of wildlife management (no, literally - he wrote the first textbook on the subject).  Part of it was a matter of practicality and economics and sustainable use.  Leopold went beyond that, however, advocating for the conservation of species that many people of his era would have considered useless, or merely ornamental - perhaps even harmful to human interests.  Without Leopold and his disciples, it's likely that we would be living in a poorer, drabber, blander country, retaining even less of its wild heritage.

The clearing and the surrounding woods were cool, quiet, and peaceful.  I wished I had more time to sit and listen, to see what birds or small mammals might reveal themselves to me, as they would have to Leopold sitting on his cabin porch, coffee cup in hand and dog by this side.  As I pulled back onto the road, however, a small flock of sandhill cranes flew across the road - I came close to veering into the other lane, so distracted was I by the spectacle.  

I feel like Aldo would have understood.

Zoo Review: International Crane Foundation, Part II

Continuing the tour of the International Crane Foundation in Baraboo, Wisconsin.

Compared to the beautiful exhibits of cranes mentioned yesterday, the habitats for the occupants of the Johnson Exhibit Pod are a little on the dull side.  By that I mean that they are simply crane habitats roughly on par (maybe a bit fancier) than those you would see at a conventional zoo, rather than the stunning wetland vistas for the Siberian and whooping cranes.  This hexagonal building (to which visitors do not have access) has radiating yards for six of the world's cranes - the sarus crane, hooded crane, Eurasian (or common) crane, blue (or Stanley's) crane, white-naped crane, and red-crowned crane.    The habitats for the red-crowned and blue cranes feature walk-in viewing areas providing unobstructed views of the birds; the other four species are seen through wire fencing.   I was particularly interested in seeing the Eurasian crane which, despite its alternate name of common crane, is found in no other US collections (European wildlife in general is poorly represented in American zoos).

The public exhibit galleries occupy only a small portion of the land on the ICF campus.  Much of the rest of the land is used to address one of the major threats to cranes in the wild - habitat loss.  An overlook by the Johnson Exhibit Pod provides a view of over 100-acres of restored wetlands; it's also possible from here to get a view of "Crane City," the breeding compound where the majority of ICF's work takes place.  Visitors can't go to Crane City, but they can take a side path that goes off to a series of meandering hiking trails through the wetlands.  At certain times of year it may be possible to observe wild sandhill cranes nesting in the marshes.

The remainder of the world's cranes are seen in Spirit of Africa. The dominant feature here is a large wetland yard, similar to those of the whooping and Siberian cranes, that is  occupied by a pair of wattled cranes, largest of the African cranes.  Additional habitats feature the demoiselle crane, black crowned crane, and gray crowned crane.  The fifth African crane species, the blue crane, is in the Johnson Exhibit Pod, though it is next to and facing the other African cranes, helping to tie in into this exhibit area.

Assuming that you are don't take the hiking trails (which would be a mistake, in my opinion - I thought they were lovely), skip out on the documentary in entry theater, and overall just concern yourself with viewing birds, it doesn't take too long to go through ICF.  Rushing though would be a mistake, however.  The signage and storytelling is excellent, as is the conservation messaging.   I especially appreciate the opportunities to learn more about the cultural importance of cranes around the world.  Spend some time of rest in the Zen garden, admire the origami crane exhibit, and give the prayer wheels (handmade in Nepal) a spin.   Though it is small, the excellent exhibits and important conservation contributions make the International Crane Foundation one of the most unique and interesting zoological attractions in the country.

Zoo Review: International Crane Foundation, Part I

How interesting would you expect a facility to be if it had a grand total of fifteen species on display?  And all fifteen of those were members of the same family?  And of those fifteen species, about half of them were species that were fairly common in other zoos?  Wouldn't sound that interesting at first, would it?

If the facility in question happened to be the International Crane Foundation, you'd be wrong.

Located in Baraboo, Wisconsin (not that far from the state capital in Madison), ICF was founded in 1973 by Ron Sauey and George Archibald.  Sauey and Archibald were ornithology students from Cornell University who developed a deep passion for saving cranes - iconic birds found across much of the world, most species of which were endangered, some critically so.   While Sauey and Archibald championed research, education, and habitat conservation as pillars of their campaign to save cranes, they also recognized the importance of captive breeding, both for reintroduction to the wild and for exhibition and education.  As such, the facility has the distinction of being the only facility on earth to house all fifteen of the world's cranes.  Two of the fifteen I had never seen before my visit, and a third I had only seen once before.

Visitors start their tour at the welcome center, which features educational displays, a brief film, and a (very nice) gift shop (and this from someone who normally eschews gift shops).  It's also here that visitors will encounter their first species of crane, the sandhill crane.  These are the world's most common cranes (outnumbering the individuals of the other fourteen species combined), and can not infrequently be encountered wild on the grounds of the Foundation depending on the time of year.  It wasn't nesting season at the time of my visit, but I still saw a few wild cranes, either flying ahead or strolling by the side of the driveway.  

Outside, a trail leads to two very large, very beautiful habitats for two of the most endangered cranes - the whooping crane of North America and the Siberian crane of Asia.  Both of these habitats are walk-ins, allowing visitors to stand on a viewing deck and get a completely unencumbered view of the birds in their vast, wetland yards.  With such big yards and only two birds per yard (cranes are fiercely territorial, and can't be kept in large flocks year round, as flamingos could be), you'd think the exhibits would appear lacking.  In reality, the birds still manage to dominate their enclosures and make their presence felt.  I enjoyed listening to the whooping cranes call in unison, as well as watching the Siberian cranes swim (the first time I've ever seen a crane swim, which was exciting).  Tucked in the back of both yards I also saw mounds of vegetation serving as nests.

The visitor areas of the exhibits contained plenty of informational material about cranes and their conservation.  It was especially fascinating to read about the story of the whooping crane, the species which ICF had largely been formed to save specifically.

The next two crane species are found in a similar pair of habitats, this one themed on the role of cranes in culture (throughout their range, the various species of cranes have prominent roles in mythology and lore).  These species are the black-necked crane (with a mural background that is evocative of the Himalayan highlands from which this species hails) and the brolga, a unique Australian species which, to my knowledge, is exhibited nowhere else in the US (it was my first time seeing them). 

Tomorrow, we'll cover the rest of the facility and the remaining cranes.

International Crane Foundation

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day!  Many zoos and aquariums celebrate this holiday by sharing facts about the mother and infant animals at their facilities, sometimes even using the day to announce upcoming births.  Many facilities also give mothers free admission to help them celebrate the day with their families.  I've always felt it would be best to give fathers free admission today - help them get the kids out of the house for a while, so mom can actually get some rest.  Have a great day, everyone!

Book Review: Sunset at the Zoo - The Zoo You Don't Know

The world of zoos and aquariums is always in flux, but the 1970s and 1980s may have been the era of the most rapid, turbulent changes.  These are the decades when the introduction of new legislation, such as CITES and the US Endangered Species Act, came into play, adding a tremendous new layer of regulatory complexity to working with animals.  This the time when the modern environmental movement began to form itself.  And this is the time when our societal understanding and appreciation of animal welfare and animal rights began to formulate - including a new questioning of the ethics of zoos and aquariums.

Among this rapidly changing landscape, Steve Graham was one of the most pivotal figures on the zoo scene.  Graham shares his experiences from a career working with wildlife in his memoir Sunset at Zoo, published not long before his recent passing.

Starting off as a keeper at Maryland's Catoctin Mountain Zoo, he later served as the director of the Salisbury Zoo, then The Baltimore Zoo, before finally ending his career as the director of the Detroit Zoo.  During those years (at least at the three zoos where he was in charge), Graham implemented many changes to improve animal welfare.  One of his first actions as director at Detroit, for example, was to put a stop to the long-running chimpanzee tea parties which promoted unnatural behaviors among the animals.  At Baltimore, he ended the practice of allowing many animals to roam free and be fed (or harassed) by visitors.  At Salisbury, he worked to develop a strong conservation ethos and reshaped the collection to feature animals that a small zoo could better accommodate, showing the world that even a small zoo can do big things for animals.  And, at the same time, he demonstrated a willingness to stand up to other zoos, even advocating for shutting down Catoctin - his former employer - over their poor welfare.

All of this would make Graham an extremely compelling figure... if he didn't come across as so smug and unlikeable.

Seriously, when I put the book down, my first thought was, "Wow, he sure thinks a lot of himself, doesn't he?"

Most of the early book is taken up with Graham's recounting of his wild youth of drugs, alcoholism, and a trail of affairs, as well as all of the various other trouble he got into.  In many ways it seems that getting involved with animals saved his life and helped pull him from a rapid downward spiral.  In this, he wouldn't be alone - the zoo world is full of people who found their niche working with animals and couldn't imagine being anywhere else.  Unfortunately, the zoo world is also full of people who, having found their calling, decide that they have divine direction to do whatever they want in the interest of animals, and anyway who questions them is at best an idiot, at worst the devil.

Much of Graham's writing comes across as meanspirited and self-aggrandizing.  He refers to the incompetence of many of his colleagues, such as dismissing his predecessor at Baltimore as a useless alcoholic (a charge which is ironic from Graham).  Then, he casually brushes aside suggestions that his treatment of Baltimore's vet contributed to the man's suicide.  When officials from Detroit come to ask him about taking the helm at their zoo, his first response is to rudely laugh at them... until they plead (in his telling, anyway) that only he can save them.

I'm not saying that Graham didn't have some good ideas and have the willingness to implement them.  I'm just pointing out that he also had a streak of toxicity that really seems to have been counter-productive in making positive changes for the animals... and sometimes he seemed more interested in being shocking and controversial than he was in being practical.  A key feature of his tenure at Detroit was his willingness to use euthanasia to destroy animals that he felt otherwise wouldn't go to zoos that he deemed suitable - which was most of them.  No one is saying send the tiger to a squalid hellhole, but maybe there are other steps - birth control, working to improve habitats, etc - that you can try instead of resorting to being the zoo equivalent of a shock jock.  Seriously, I hope he didn't cut himself on all that edge...

I'm glad I found Sunset at the Zoo, being as there aren't many books about the histories of Baltimore and Detroit (even fewer about Salisbury and Catoctin), and it did provide a unique insight into the mind of one of the key architects of the 1970's zoo revolution.  I just wish there was a protagonist for this story who didn't leave such a smarmy impression.

Sunset at the Zoo: The Zoo You Don't Know at Amazon.com

Science and Scandal at the Zoo

When we talk about zoos, we inevitably focus mostly on the animals - their welfare, their conservation, their reproduction - and of course, they are the defining feature of our institutions.  Still, in recent years there has been a lot more emphasis on the human side of the profession.  Zoos are about animals, but they're nothing without their people.   While there has long been focus on and considerable advances in how the animals are treated, we're just starting to ask ourselves how the people are being treated.

Most zoo staff aren't paid well, which is nothing new.  That's hopefully improving, but at least we all know about it out going into this.  What's more problematic is toxic behavior.  Zoos tend to attract staff who don't always play nice with others.  Furthermore, you get a lot of savior complexes run around, with people who think they know best/care the most, and therefore should be allowed to have their way.

Last year I paid my first visit to Henry Vilas Zoo in Madison, Wisconsin.  I had an enjoyable time - but all the while, I was aware of rumors of trouble beneath the surface, which had recently started to boil up.  This isn't all unique to Madison, unfortunately - I've seen and heard of similar problems at many other facilities.  Which is something we need to work to change.  Not just because it interferes with our core mission and compromises the care of our animals - though that is very important.  But mostly because everyone deserves to be treated with respect.

 A Zoo Association Devoted to Science, and Plagued by Scandal

Mourning the Lost

My heart goes out to the team at the Dallas Zoo.  As if they hadn't already had a wretched enough year with the vandalism and murder of animals earlier in 2023, the staff were dealt as especially heavy blow yesterday.  Ajabu, a seven year-old African elephant, died of EEHV, the elephant herpes virus which has long plagued elephant populations and is a leading cause of death for these incredible animals.  Ajabu had beaten back EEHV in the past - but this second go-around proved too much for him.  I'm so sorry for his keepers and other staff who knew and loved him, and know it's never easy.

Shortly after the death was announced, I saw the following post from the account Tao of Zookeeping, a response to this loss (but applicable to all loses, including those which don't make the headlines, being associated with perhaps less-famous, but no less-loved, animals), and wanted to share it here.

Reading this, I remember every time I followed a strange sound around a corner and came across one of my coworkers weeping over the loss of a beloved animal.  Depending on who it's been and what sort of support they needed, some of them I would come over and support.  Others I'd back away quietly before they'd see me, knowing that they'd want their space and privacy during such an emotional time.  Which I can understand.

After all, sometimes the crier has been me.

Communications is Key

Last week, the Fort Worth Zoo in Texas did a very good thing.  Fifty-five endangered Louisiana pine snakes, bred at the zoo as part of a reintroduction program, were released into the wild.  It marks the largest reintroduction success of the zoo for this species in the several years that Forth Worth has been involved in the program.  It's a great conservation milestone, one which the zoo should be very proud of and a story that should be shared with the media.

And this is how the media shares it:

Yes, the body of the article is full of more accurate, useful information - but how many people just read the headlines?  First, it's inaccurate, as the "glad we don't live in Forth Worth" implies that the snakes were released in Fort Worth - they were actually released hundreds of miles away.  More importantly, it's a lazy, "Har dee har, snakes bad" headline, which is exactly the sort of sentiment that the zoo is trying to overcome to garner support for re-establishing this species back in the wild.  A casual headline skimmer, as most of us are, could just get the impression that Fort Worth opened a sack and casually let dozens of random snakes (exotic? venomous?) loose in the city streets on a whim.

Great conservation work by the Fort Worth Zoo.  KDKA?  Could stand to do better.

Species Fact Profile: Wattled Crane (Bugeranus carunculatus)

                                                                Wattled Crane

                                                Bugeranus carunculatus (Gmelin, 1789)

Range: Disjunctive populations in sub-Saharan Africa.  Primary three are in Ethiopia, south-central Africa (Zambia and Mozambique), and eastern South Africa, with a few scattered smaller populations elsewhere (Angola, Namibia, Tanzania).  Largest population in the Okavango Delta

Habitat:  Wetlands and Floodplains

Diet: Vegetation (water lilies, sedges) and Insects, supplemented by some small vertebrates. 

Social Grouping: Pairs, Flocks outside of breeding season

Reproduction: Monogamous, generally for life.    Nests are large mounds of vegetation, surrounded by a moat of water.  Both parents care for the young and guard an area of about one kilometer surrounding the nest. Can lay two eggs per clutch (2-5 days apart), but usually only one, and only raise one if they lay two.  Incubation period 33-36 days.  Chicks fledge at 90-130 days (longer than other cranes), able to fly at about 5 months.  Breeding has been documented year round, some variation across range.  Chicks are independent at one year, but typically don’t breed until they are about 7 years old

Lifespan: 20-30 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Vulnerable, CITES Appendix II 

• Largest crane in Africa and the second tallest in the world, after the sarus crane.  Tallest flying bird in Africa.  Stands 1.5-1.75 meters tall, wingspan 2.3-2.6 meters, and weight 6.4-9 kilograms, with males being slightly larger than females
• Males and females look alike.  Back and wings are ashy gray.  Crown is slate gray; remainder of head, neck, and breast are white.  Primary feathers and tail coverts are black; secondaries are long, almost reaching the ground.  Bare skin in front of the eye is bright red (somewhat darker in males than females) and covered with small, wart-like bumps.  White wattles (with a little red extending onto them) hang down from chin.  Bill is light reddish-brown, legs are black
• Wattles are indicative of the bird’s mood, shrink if the bird is nervous, elongating if the bird becomes excited
• Chicks are completely white and lack the bare red facial skin, their wattles are also much smaller.  Juveniles resemble adults with slightly more yellow plumage, but lack the dark cap, and their backs are a lighter shade of gray
• High-pitched call created by contorting and moving the neck; female begins calling (lowering head, coiled near shoulder, then quickly extending it) for 3-7 seconds, joined by male with a long, broken call followed by a series of shorter calls
• Pairs bond by building nests and engaging in courtship rituals that consist of jumping and dancing, ripping up and tossing grass in the air.·         
• Adults are highly territorial during the breeding season (even attacking animals that pose no risk to eggs or chicks, such as tortoises and sparrows), more social during the remainder of the year.  Sometimes found in flocks of up to 90.  Juveniles may band together to form small flocks after gaining independence until they can establish their own territories.
• Largely sedentary, but make some movements in response to changes in water levels, especially cranes that occupy seasonal wetlands.
• Feed by probing in the soil with the beak or immersing whole head in water.  Have been observed feeding alongside lechwe and spur-winged geese.  Potential seed dispersers
• Adults have few predators due to size.  Jackals are primary predator of chicks.  Adults may leave chicks hidden in tall grasses when they go off to forage
• Most wetland-dependent of Africa’s six crane species and the most intolerant of habitat disturbance, which primarily occurs due to agricultural expansion.  Introduction of invasive plants, construction of dams, and pesticide use also reduces habitat availability
• Also threatened by hunting (includes illegal collection of eggs), as well as capture of live birds for sale internationally

AITA: Cheetah Edition

I have to admit, I had no idea that the subreddit "Am I The Asshole" was going to prove such a source of zookeeping stories.  Yes, I doubt that most of them are true (and some of the wording on this one makes me doubtful), but still, it's always fun seeing zookeeping creeping into pop culture.

So, what's your take?  My personal preference for animal transports has been, once you have the animal and you're in the vehicle, you go and keep on going, stopping only when necessary, so that the animal has to spend as little time in the crates as possible and can be unloaded as soon as possible.  Sometimes... the job gets stinky.

AITA for not pulling over at my coworker's request, while transporting a cheetah between zoos?

I'm a zookeeper of eleven years and got the call yesterday that we'd acquired 2 cheetahs from another zoo, about four hours away. (Happens from time to time, zoos decide that particular animals might be better off at once facility than another).

We left in one of our transport vans around 2pm. I took two keepers with me - let's call them Seth (who's been around as a swing keeper for a few years, has a bit of cat experience) and Megan (fairly new to the industry, brought her partially for the experience and partially because she was the only other one who wanted some extra hours working late).

We arrive at 6pm and get to see these two beautiful cheetahs, and Seth helps me get them loaded into our crates.

He does ask "shouldn't we wait for them to go potty before driving back with them," which I know is a common practice sometimes, but I said nah, it could be hours, and the van smells of animals already - we'll be getting back late enough as it is. So they agreed and we headed back.

It was a bit cramped but we made it work. Megan sat up front with me and Seth sat in the back with the cheetah crates (had to keep them in the passenger compartment to observe them / make sure they're ok).

The drive back went fine until right before the 3 hour mark, predictably, one of the cheetahs relieved itself. Seth said "oh, oh no it went," and a few seconds later the smell hit us up front. Honestly to me it just smelled like healthy cheetah poo - I was mostly just happy to know the cheetah we got was healthy! It sprayed too (intact male cheetah) which did make it worse.

When the smell hit Megan though she started gagging saying "oh my god it's atrocious." I agreed, but kept driving. Less than a minute later she said "Please can we pull over, I'm going to be sick," I said that it'll be hard to clean this, it's only another hour and a half tops, but she said "I don't know if I can make it an hour in this."

I really hoped we could make it back, but when even Seth lost his composure and started retching I knew this wasn't good, and Megan was practically crying, so I relented and pulled off at the next exit and pulled up behind a gas station to clean the crate, but not before Megan threw up. Seth had to help me transfer the cheetah and then we cleaned the crate and Megan's vomit.

Then we got back in, but Megan recoiled and gagged, saying the van still reeked of vomit, cheetah poo and spray, which was true. She asked if we could let it air out for another hour, but I said no, sorry, it'd barely help and we need to be getting back.

She looked ill and miserable the whole drive back and has been a bit standoffish to me since. I'm not her regular direct manager so it's not really my place to intervene. Seth did say the next day "That's what I was afraid of," but I think my actions were justified.

AITA

tl;dr didn't pull over right away when cheetah had an "accident," coworker got sick

A Slightly Belated Celebration

It didn't occur to me to check until a few minutes after I posted yesterday, but Tuesday ended up being something of a special day.  It marked the tenth anniversary of my first ever post on The Zoo Reviewer! (The blog was originally going to be "The Zoo Review," but that was taken).  Since May 2, 2013, we've shared over 2,200 posts, including reviews of over 100 zoos and aquariums! (And we have several more reviews waiting in the wings).

May 7 will mark the tenth anniversary of my first real post, "Why I Became a Zookeeper" (I was so overdramatic and florid in my writing back in those younger days...).  The most popular post remains "The Ten Things I Never Want To Hear From Zoo Visitors Again..."

If there's one area in which the blog has let me down somewhat, it's that I'd hoped for more engagement - people writing in with questions, or sharing their stories as guest editorials (though I do very much appreciate the ones that have been submitted).  If you have material you'd like to share, feel free to drop a comment, or send an email at zooreviewer@gmail.com

It's still hard to believe that it's been ten years.  Thanks to all the readers!

Sick Leave Hero

The 2020 Coronavirus Pandemic was, in many ways, a horrific shared experience for our country.  Even out of (sometimes especially out of) the worst of times, however, a few good things have the potential to emerge.  From COVID-19, one of those silver linings was a new, shared, appreciation for a piece of wisdom that too many people had been unwilling to accept.

If you are sick... STAY... HOME.  Above all, don't go to work.  Not only are you depriving yourself of the opportunity to rest and get better, you also run the risk of spreading sickness to your coworkers... not all of which may be human.

Zoos are often run on a shoestring staff, and there is a constant (and not unrealistic) impression that if one or two people call out, the entire foundation will collapse. A former director of mine, referring to our staffing levels, said "We can usually manage - as long as the sun is shining and no one calls out sick."  Unfortunately, things had a tendency to get cloudy.

Complicating things is the fact that zookeepers a) tend to like their jobs and enjoy being around their animals, and b) tend to have savior complexes, fearing "letting others down."  They also tend to be young, and perhaps more inclined to believe that they can power-through a sickness (which may not seem that bad to them) and do what needs to be done.   I know I have.  Once, my entire team was struck by a terrible stomach flu (it didn't help that most of us lived together).  I was pretty sick, but perhaps one of the least sick, which was still pretty awful, so I decided to keep going in).  I was (barely) able to work, but even so, I had to make several sprints to bathrooms - or, if one wasn't close enough, to improvisational solutions.

I'm pretty sure our tigers never recovered from what they had to witness in their holding building that day.

Some teams have stricter policies about sick leave, especially teams that work with animals that are more susceptible to human illnesses.  Our primate keepers, we like to joke, were wearing masks long before it was cool for the rest of us in 2020, in order to protect apes and monkeys from human diseases.

At the end of the day, it's your employer's responsibility to have staffing levels that can survive an unplanned absence due to illness - or a planned absence, such as vacation.  So drop the guilt, heat up some chicken soup, fluff a pillow, and reach for a book or a remote, or the snooze button.  You can't take care of your animals unless you're willing to take care of yourself, too.