Four Words of Horror

A few years back, there was a challenge on Reddit to write the scariest story possible using only four words.  Submissions ranged from the gross ("Those are MY guts!") to the humorous ("Wife checked browser history").  So, in honor of Halloween, what would be some four-word horror stories that would chill the blood of even the bravest zookeeper?  Some ideas I thought of - but I'm open to more!

"The chimps are loose" (Insert species of your choice)

"Was that gate unlocked?"

"It's free day... again." (And beautiful weather!)

"Is that stool bloody?"

"Weren't there three yesterday?" (Let the frantic searching begin!)

"We're gonna be short-staffed." (I don't know why this would be scary.  It's the norm)

And, the four words which have heralded so many disasters in my experience...

"Mandatory staff meeting... NOW"

Happy Halloween!

Pumpkin Tetherball

 

Pumpkin Party at the Tulsa Zoo

It wouldn't be late October without pictures of animals enjoying some pumpkins!  Enjoy these photos from the Tulsa Zoo.  While elephants often get the most attention this time of year, the truth is that everyone enjoys a good pumpkin, large or small.

What's in the Box?

The first Home's hinge-backed tortoises in AZA collections came to be as the result of the confiscation of 20 specimens by USFWS in 1988.  The animals, which could not be released into the wild, which were placed at the Bronx Zoo.  First captive breeding occurred 6 years later at Omaha’s Henry Doorly Zoo.  The American zoo population remaining small until a second large confiscation occurred in the 2010s.

A surprisingly large number of reptile, amphibian, fish, and invertebrate populations in American zoos have a similar origin story - they are the result of one or two large confiscations which require animals to be placed in zoos.  Perhaps it's a species that no zoos had been particularly looking for or planning to work with, then boom, suddenly a species goes from not being present at all to having a good-sized population.  Sometimes the animals live out their lifespans (which may be shortened due to the stress of being captured and smuggled prior to their rescue), then gradually die out, until it's like they were never there at all.  Sometimes that results in the establishment of a new breeding population within AZA 

I find the randomness of it somewhat intriguing.  Any moment, Fish and Wildlife could reach out about a major confiscation, and it could be anything, from turtles to tarantulas.  Likewise, things could have happened differently in the past that would have resulted in dramatically different animals being present in US zoos.  On one hand, those Home's hinge-backs could have been missed by customs and gone on their merry (or not so merry) way, and maybe only been seen by a few private collectors who hoarded them jealously.  I might never have seen one, might never have known they existed. 

On the other hand, though...

Suppose, for example, that a shipment of critically-endangered (and for many years thought-to-be-extinct) Spix's macaws had been intercepted on US soil - and those birds had formed the basis of a breeding program.  We'd actually have those incredibly rare parrots here, under our facilities, rather than in Europe.  I'd heard of some marine iguanas that had been smuggled from the Galapagos years ago and are now in secretive private hands abroad.  What if they'd been found in a cargo bay in Miami?  Historically the species did poorly in zoos, but with what we know now, and the technologies that we have available, would it be possible to have the species thriving under human care?

Obviously the ideal solution would be for no animals to be smuggled.  I'd rather not have any marine iguanas in US zoos and aquariums rather than only have them because they were taken from the wild, smuggled in cruel conditions, with many succumbing to stress and poor care before a few bedraggled survivors were rescued.  But it's always hard not to wonder, "What if..."

Species Fact Profile: Home's Hinge-Backed Tortoise (Kinixys homeana)

                                                      Home's Hinge-Backed Tortoise

                                                       Kinixys homeana (Bell, 1827)

Range: West and northern Central Africa

Habitat:  Closed Canopy Moist Forest, Wetlands, Dry Forests adjacent to mangroves

Diet: Plant Matter, Seeds, Fungi, Soft-Bodied Invertebrates, Arthropods

Social Grouping:  Solitary

Reproduction:   Breeding has been reported from mid-March through late May, as well as in September.  Females nest 1-2 times per year, usually during the December-January dry season.  The brittle white eggs are roughly spherical, measuring 4.5 by 3.5 centimeters.  2-4 (up to 6) eggs are laid in burrows in forest leaf litter.  Incubation time (captive records only) 89-102 days at 28-30 degrees Celsius.  Believed but not confirmed to have temperature-dependent sex determination.  Hatchlings 4-5 centimeters long.

Lifespan: 50 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Critically Endangered, CITES Appendix II

• Carapace length up to 23 centimeters
• Carapace is dark with shades of brown, yellow, or red, the centers of the scutes lighter than the exteriors.  The carapace is serrated, flattened dorsally, and angled down sharply towards the back, giving a squared-off appearance.  The plastron is yellow with black markings in the center.  Head and limbs are pale yellow, sometimes dull brown to orange.
• Omnivorous, inclined more towards carnivory than most tortoises.  Possible that is also scavenges or opportunistically preys on small vertebrates.
• Most active in low-light conditions, early morning or dusk.  Hides for most of the midday.  Primarily active during the wet season.  Observed swimming during flooding
• Some overlap in wild with other Kinixys erosa, uncertain how the two species interact or compete
• Common and Latin name both honor English surgeon and naturalist Everard Home (first scientist to describe the Ichthyosaur, deduced that platypuses laid eggs)
• In extensive decline due to severe habitat loss (triggered by mining, logging, and agriculture) coupled with intensive collection from the wild, both for subsistence and traditional medicinal usage, as well as collection for the pet trade
• Species was historically regarded as a holy animal by some communities in the Niger delta, while serving as a traditional food source for others

What a Re-Molt-ing Development

 There are few animals that unsettle me as much as tarantulas and other large spiders.  Over the years of working in zoos, I've eventually learned to make some semblance of peace with them - and I certainly bear them no ill will, I won't try to squish one that I see - but I get the jitters whenever one appears.  Imagine how grossed out I was, one day early in my career, to come in one day and see our resident tarantula on its back, apparently dead.  I'd resigned myself to having to handle the corpse for removal, but decided to swing back and do it at the end of morning rounds.

Then, imagine how creeped out I was to come back to the enclosure and find myself looking at not one but two tarantulas.

Like snakes, tarantulas molt, or shed, as they grow.  With snakes, I find the process of watching the skin being shed to be soothing, calming, elegant.  At its simplest, it's like a sock being slowly pulled down (and, considering how gross my socks tend to be at the end of a work day, peeling them off is something I associate with a lot of pleasure and comfort).  With spiders... it's less calming.

The tarantula flips onto its back, as the specimen I saw was.  It may appear dead.  Then, the exoskeleton splits open and the spider violently wriggles it's way out, leg by leg.  It leaves behind its old exoskeleton which, despite the seeming ferocity of the struggle, is often left miraculously unspoiled, seemingly a perfect copy of the move liberated - and larger - arachnid.  This accounts for the second spider that I saw.  The process could take a few minutes.  It could take an hour.  It does seem to be a challenging, stressful process for the spider, and it's not uncommon for pet tarantulas to die during the molt. 

These shed exoskeletons can be a great educational biofact, as well as providing an opportunity to help visitors who are afraid of spiders examine them in a manner in which they will feel safe and more receptive to learning.

They also provide a really evil device for pranking other zookeepers.  This from someone who has been both the victim and the prankster.  

Enjoy (or, perhaps, don't) this video of a tarantula molting, just to give you an idea of what you're missing.

Endangered Pumpkins

It's almost Halloween, which means it's time for some pumpkin carving!  Once again, AZA is posting pumpkin carving templates to help you make a Jack o' Lantern of some of your favorite endangered species.  There's over a dozen species to choose from, several of which are new this year.  Cuban crocodile?  Whooping crane?  Sloth bear?  You could pick... or you could just get a bunch of pumpkins and make a whole zoo's worth!

AZA SAFE Pumpkin Carving Templates

Vampire Bat Buffet

In order to reduce the stigma surrounding them and encourage people to see them as creatures deserving of care, conservation, and respect, zoo professionals often try their hardest to make certain animals not seem at all creepy or scary.  But the thing is... some of them are.  The whole concept of vampire bats is just... metal.  Sure, there's lot of other animals that eat blood, but the fact that it's not a leech or a mosquito, but something with an actual face and body plan similar to ours just makes it extra spooky for some reason.  Enjoy this video clip from the Cincinnati Zoo!

Sporcle Quiz: Endemic Animals by Country

Studying animals, I've always felt, is a great way to study geography. When I hear the name of a country, I usually start thinking of it in terms of animals.  This is especially the case when an animal is native to one country and no other.  Can you match the endemic animals to the one and only country from which they are from?

Endemic Animals by Country

Children of the Corn Crib

What's the first thing you think of when you hear the word "corn"?  Cobs?  Scarecrows?  Mazes?  Iowa?

When I hear that word (unless it's in a very obvious context, like what side do you want for dinner), I almost immediately tack on the word "crib."  The associations, while nostalgic, are not entirely pleasant ones.

The corn crib cage, also called a silo cage or a Behlen cage (after one company that produces them) is pretty much what it sounds like.  It's a round wire cage, that looks pretty much like a modified corn crib.  They are the workhorse of much of the unaccredited zoo community, not that they don't make some appearances within accredited zoos as well, especially for birds, primates, and small mammals.

I've spent a lot of time working with them, caring for a variety of species in them ranging from spider monkeys to pheasants to macaws to a clouded leopard.  I've hated every single bit of that time.

Corn cribs are not ideal for animal care.  They're good at holding animals, but that's just about it.  They are open all around, allowing 360-degrees of viewing, so unless you make some modifications, your animal is completely exposed on all sides.  Even if the enclosure has a fence around it to keep the public back, you can still have problems with wildlife, such as raccoons or foxes, prowling around the exhibit at night and stressing the enclosed animal out, as it has nowhere to go but the center of the cage.  The round, wire sides also make it hard to add much in the way of shelter, so for tropical animals your options generally are to either add a box with a heat lamp (and hope that it doesn't die out in the middle of a winter night), or catch the animal up and bring it inside.  

Finally, there's something about the proportion of the size of the cage and the spacing of the wires that I don't like.  You could, theoretically, put very small animals in one of these cages, but the bars are spaced so far apart that the animal would be able to escape.  If the animal is too big to fit between the bars, it might be too large to comfortably be housed in the crib.

Part of it is just psychological too, I suspect.  I mostly associate corn cribs with some of the shabbier places I've worked at, where the caging was either that or something knocked together with chicken wire and scrap lumber.  I really grew to hate the onset of winter, unlocking corn cribs to see animals shivering in their nest boxes, and wasn't crazy about the summer, when they were surrounded on all sides.  The enclosures just seemed lazy, minimalistic, and the perfect embodiment of the "good enough" school of keeping.  It didn't help that they were beloved by my boss, who thought it was impossible to do better and would periodically swap species out with no enclosure modifications.  A corn crib might hold a binturong one year, than peafowl the next.

You can make them work, I suppose.  A few years back, the Maryland Zoo in Baltimore, for instance, took three old corn crib enclosures that housed lemurs and linked them, and the nearby Chimpanzee Forest building, with overhead passages to create an intertwined habitat that allows small primates not only to change exhibits, but to connect with the indoor exhibits nearby.  It was definitely a major improvement over keeping monkeys and lemurs in wire silos with no easy access between indoor and outdoor spaces.  But I still can't help but scowl a little bit when I see them. 

Sometimes you just need a structure to house an animal and, if all other needs are met, I suppose there's nothing inherently wrong with a corn crib.  But there's something about its bland, impersonal utilitarianism that never sits quite right with me.

Zoo History: The Elephant God of the Tulsa Zoo

"I contend that we are both atheists, I just believe in one fewer god than you do."

- Stephen F. Roberts

During my recent visit to the Tulsa Zoo, there were many animals and exhibits that I was keen to see.  Perhaps unique among my zoo visits, however, what I was most interested to see was a particular piece of art.  Not so much for its own artistic merits, or for the subject matter.  Instead, I was excited to see it for its role in one of the most interesting zoo controversies of recent years.

Tucked away in the vegetation along the path leading to the Tulsa Zoo's Asian elephant house is a stone statue of the Hindu god Ganesha (sometimes also spelled "Ganesh"), hand-carved from granite in Madras, India.  With his elephant head and multiple arms, Ganesha is probably the most recognizable of the Hindu deities to many westerners.  The presence of the statue is reflective of the zoo's historic, multi-faceted approach to education, in which visitors were taught not just about the animals themselves but their place in a larger context.  That included the role of animals in religion and tradition, of which Ganesha is doubtless the perfect example for Asian elephants.  There are plenty of other animal-headed gods in world religions.  I suppose the fact that, unlike the gods of Ancient Egypt, for example, the Hindu pantheon is still worshiped around the globe might have been a factor in what followed.

Tulsa lies in what, in America, is generally called "the Bible Belt," and the inclusion of a religious icon drew outrage from some members of the community.  Not local Hindus, as near as I can tell - if the objection came from people who felt that their religion was being disrespected by the inclusion of the statue, I might have felt differently.  Instead, the charge was led by some local Christians who - and I really am having a hard time with this - thought that having a statue of a Hindu god (displayed in the context of teaching visitors about the importance of elephants in Asian culture) was somehow tantamount of encouraging visitors to... convert to Hinduism.  That's right.  The theory was that people who were raised Christian all of their lives would abandon their faith as soon as they saw a cool-looking stone elephant at the zoo.  Likewise, a granite globe at the entrance of the zoo, inscribed "The Earth is our mother, the Sky is our Father," was deemed too pagan.

This was 2005, mind you, not some distant days of yore.  The Marvel movie "Thor" would be released in a few short years - perhaps these folks would later be worried that their kids would rather make sacrifices to Odin rather than go to church.

The zoo was, at the same time, dealing with backlash against some of their signage, which discussed evolutionary theory.  Local activist Dan Hicks decided that, if the zoo was going to teach evolution and have non-Christian imagery, the least that they could do was install an exhibit on Biblical Creation.  "Here we have a three-dimensional representation of a Hindu deity.  You don't get much more religious than that," Hicks told reporters.  "Now I'm not calling for these things to be removed.  I'm saying if we're going to have a open marketplace of ideas, why not allow the creationist viewpoint?"

On June 7, 2005, the Tulsa Park Board voted in favor of installing such an exhibit.  I remember being irked when I heard about it, considering it shameful pandering.  What I could not expect was that, a month later, the Board reversed the decision and cancelled the exhibit.  The decision was made as a result of outcry from both the local community (which surprised me the most is that a considerable amount of the pushback came from other Christian leaders) in the form of drying up donations, as well as disapproval from AZA, which, in it's accrediting role, judges not only animal welfare and care practices but a variety of other aspects of the zoo - including educational materials.

I'd been told that much of the evolutionary imagery in the zoo was in the since-renovated North American museum.  I didn't notice too much of it during my visit of the new exhibit.  But Ganesha is still there, serenely greeting visitors on their way to the elephants.  A plaque at the base of the statue informs visitors that Ganesha is a symbol of wisdom and good will.  Those are two things that we could all use a little more of, inside and outside of the zoo.  I'm glad the Tulsa Park Board, after a false start, was able to muster a little of both.

Slotherhouse

 The perfect Halloween doesn’t exi… wait, what?

  

For both comedy and horror, the key element is surprise.  We’re amused and/or scared by what we don’t expect.  In the case of horror, few things are scarier than when there is something that is supposed to be lovable or wholesome that is turned on its head.  That’s why there are so many horror movies about evil babies and clowns.

And what could seem *less* frightening than a sloth?

I actually have been menaced by any angry sloth on more than one occasion- it’s seriously the sort of thing that makes you rethink your life choices.  I was never in even the tiniest bit of danger, but having an animal like a sloth being threatening towards you is, in its own way, much more unsettling than being threatened by a more dangerous animal.

It just felt… unsettlingly wrong.

Zoo Review: Tulsa Zoo, Part II

Continuing through the Tulsa Zoo...

Apart from the Rainforest, the bulk of the zoo's non-mammalian collection is found in the Conservation Center (a name that many zoos seem to use these days for their mixed-purpose bird/reptile/small mammal houses.  A visitor the this building - essentially one long hallway with herps on one side, birds and primates on the other - probably won't be too dazzled by the enclosures themselves, which, while perfectly functional, are a bit plain.  A zoo connoisseur, however, will be interested in some of the rarely seen species found along the hall, including Diana monkeys (an African primate once fairly common in zoos, now sadly something of a rarity) and maleo, a strange turkey-like bird from Sulawesi which builds a mound to incubate its eggs, rather than sitting on the nest.  In the center of the building is an aquarium of Pangasius catfish and other Asian fish.  I was interested to learn that, in keeping which this zoo's strong former focus on anthropology, this exhibit used to feature giant fish of the Amazon - and included a side display of shrunken heads.  American flamingos possess an outdoor yard adjacent to the building, while across the path is one of the most astonishingly involved play structures I have ever seen, in or out of a zoo.

One of the zoo's newest features is the Asian complex, Lost Kingdom.  Much like the rainforest, it leans heavily on the ruined temple theming (think Angkor Wat style), some of which incorporates visitor space, animal holding, and the overhead passages which one sees so often in cat complexes these days.  Cats - in form of tigers and snow leopards - are the stars here, but are supplemented by siamangs, red pandas, binturongs, Komodo dragons, and a small aviary.  One of the indoor visitors spaces, which provides close up viewing of the cats, also features a pool of Chinese alligators, shared with various Asian turtles.

Predating Lost Kingdom is the adjacent Elephant Encounter, home to the herd of Asian elephants.  The elephants can either be seen outdoors or from their holding building, which features a small but interesting museum of elephants.  The centerpiece of this gallery used to be a life-sized statue that depicted a mammoth being hunted by prehistoric humans, though this has since been replaced by a more child-friendly, climbable statue of elephants.  The exhibit itself is nothing to write home about... at least at the moment.  During my visit a few months ago (and at the present time), the zoo is in the process of constructing an enormous new elephant expansion, which will allow their present animals more room to roam and display natural behaviors, as well as increase the size of the herd that the zoo can maintain.

Two handsome new aquatic exhibits for African penguins and California sea lions are other recent additions to the zoo.  Both include underwater viewing opportunities.  The penguin exhibit includes a burrow that kids can tunnel through for a closer view of the birds.  (The penguin exhibit was founded through the sale of stylized penguin sculptures, now on display throughout the city).  Also included in the zoo are some old grottos, formerly for bears, now holding lions, a nearby meerkat exhibit, and a yard for Aldabra tortoises, which includes an adjacent holding building to provide winter viewing.

These last few exhibits will be replaced as part of one of the zoo's other future projects, a comprehensive new African area which will include new habitats for these species as well as gorillas, pygmy hippos, African wild dogs, and more.  We already have a yardstick for how these new habitats will be constructed by checking out the new Mary K. Chapman Rhinoceros Reserve, a spacious paddock for white rhinos, warthogs, and antelope.  White rhinos are the species most commonly exhibited in US zoos, and their habitats tend to be... kind of dull.  Usually just an open yard with a small pool (they aren't as inclined to enter the water as other rhinos), some boulders, and a shade structure or two.  This habitat is one of the best, biggest, and certainly the most attractive that I've seen in a conventional zoo.  Nearby is a yard for giraffes - not bad, but nowhere near as impressive or attractive as the rhino yard.

Tulsa very much gives the impression of being a zoo on the rise - not surprising when you consider that it won the contest of being named America's Favorite Zoo not too long ago in a contest held by Microsoft to promote Zoo Tycoon 2.  That might be a bit of an overstatement.  It's not the biggest in terms of size and collection, and while it has some excellent exhibits, there are others which are fairly middling.  Many of these, however, seem to be in the queue for repair or replacement.  It's hard not to be impressed by many of the successful new habitats over the past decade.  I look forward to a repeat visit when new improvements are completed - all while still being a bit downcast that I missed some aspects of the zoo which were so unique and unusual when they were still present. 

Zoo Review: Tulsa Zoo, Part I

I spend a lot of time following zoo news and looking forward to new habitats and exhibits that are opening.  It's not as often, however, that I spend time looking backwards, feeling sad about an incredible exhibit that I will not see.  One such exhibit was the Tulsa Zoo's Robert J. LaFortune North American Living Museum, which opened in 1978.  When a young me first heard about it, I was dazzled.  This four-building complex located just inside the entrance of the zoo was, without me knowing it yet, the epitome of what I thought a zoo could be - a comprehensive educational facility that incorporated all aspects of natural history, including zoology, botany, paleontology, and geology, with a little anthropology thrown in for good measure.  After having first learned about it, but long before having seen it in person, I imagined a greatly expanded version of it with more biomes, more habitats, more animals, and more additional features.  The exhibit still exists, in a way - the same four buildings still stand, with some of the same animals - but stripped of both its North American focus and its broader philosophical view.  

Following a 2013 rebranding, the Museum (which earned the zoo accreditation in the American Association of Museums in 1982) now exists as WildLIFE Trek, with the theme of each of the four buildings being tweaked slightly.  The former Arctic building (covered with small white stones - each of the buildings was distinguished by being a different color) is now "Life in the Cold," the southwestern desert building is "Life in the Desert," the eastern deciduous forest building is "Life in the Forest," and the southeastern swamp building is "Life in Water."  The four buildings are linked with walkways that feature larger residents - grizzly bears, collared peccaries, bald eagles - while the indoor spaces are home to smaller animals; in some cases, the smaller animals have outdoor exhibits that are viewed from the inside, such as the Arctic foxes in the cold building.  Aspects of the building are enjoyable - the walk-through aviary in the desert building, surrounded by tanks of desert reptiles, the small but attractive aquariums in the water building, the alligators opposite wading birds, the naked mole rat colony.  having known what it was like, however, I just find the exhibit someone... bland.  I probably would have enjoyed it more if I hadn't read extensively about the older version.  The loss of the inclusive educational messaging that really spoke to the BioPark concept that I've always admired just saddens me a bit.

Another geographic-themed area which has recently seen some thematic dilution is the Rainforest.  Perhaps not the largest or most spectacular of the rainforest buildings out there, it does have a lusher, more pleasant feeling to me than many of the big ones, perhaps because the relative lack of large mammals allows for greener settings.  This exhibit area was Latin American in theme and is still probably 95% accurate, but a few African and Asian species have popped up in the mix.  After passing through aquariums of piranhas, anaconda, and caiman, visitors enter the jungle itself, which is home to a variety of rainforest birds, sloths, bats, and small primates.  The translucent panels of the roof allow natural light in, providing a brighter experience than in many indoor rainforests.  Winding through the exit is a habitat of jaguars, which can be viewed both inside and outside.  For most visitors, however, the real attraction is the giant recreation of an Olmec Head statue, which is one of the most-see photo opportunities of the zoo.  I tend to roll my eyes a little at the mock temple aesthetic which is so popular among zoo designers, but you have to admit, it does give the people what they want.

When the zoo's Chimpanzee Connection first opened in 1991, no less an authority than Jane Goodall declared it to be one of the best she had ever seen.  I've been a bit more impressed with some of the facilities that have opened since, but it has held up well over three decades and continues to be a suitable habitat.  The outdoor island (a preexisting monkey island) is covered with climbing structures and an artificial termite mound, and is then linked to an indoor habitat, providing year-round viewing of the apes.

A small nearby children's zoo features domestic animals, as well as river otters and kangaroos.  There was construction in progress at the time of my visit, so I didn't get the best look at it.

There is, however, plenty more of the Tulsa Zoo to explore, which we will look at tomorrow.

Tulsa Zoo

Native Enough?

Last week, I went bird watching at a wildlife refuge - not too far away from me, but still far enough that I'd never been before.  Without the use of my binoculars, I spotted a few white shapes drifting across the surface of the water.  Pelicans, I thought, perhaps - or maybe rare trumpeter swans, slowly making a comeback.  

When I finally got close enough and saw the birds through the binoculars, I was a little disappointed.  The orange beaks, the dainty posture of the wings - they were mute swans.  Unlike the native trumpeter and tundra swans, mute swans are an invasive species from Europe, which has proliferated in America and caused considerable damage to native waterfowl populations and wetland habitats.  Seeing so many of them here, in the heart of a wildlife refuge, saddened me a bit.

Still, I have to acknowledge that, despite heroic efforts to control their numbers, mute swans seem to be here to stay.  I don't foresee any real reduction in their numbers, and for every trumpeter swan I've seen in the wild, I'm pretty sure I've seen a dozen mute swans.

Photo Credit: Trumpeter Swan Society

At what point, then, do we say that the mute swan is a de facto native?  When do we stop trying, and just accept it?  

Follow up question - would I put mute swans in a native-species themed area of a zoo?  I've seen nutria in such exhibits in Louisiana, and Burmese pythons in Florida, though neither of those are native species.  Does doing so normalize their presence in the landscape in the minds of visitors, suggesting that they do, in fact, belong here?  Or does it provide more a context for us to talk about the threat of invasive species?  If I had to guess - based on the prevalence of sign-reading among visitors - I'd say the former.

Also, do we want to be devoting resources to the upkeep on invasive species in zoos?  I could put mute swans on a pond in our facility (and not much else, probably - they have a reputation for being bullies).  Or, I could devote that space to trumpeter swans, which zoos are working to breed for reintroduction into the wild.  Or injured, non-releasable tundra swans, a native species,.  If someone brought me a non-releasable mute swan, my gut inclination would be to go for euthanasia, though I'd be more than happy to see it rehomed at a facility that wanted it and could guarantee that it wouldn't a) breed or b) have any negative impact on native wildlife?

Ideally, I'd love to be able to do everything - house all sorts of animals for the education of the public and provide for the welfare of all animals that need care, be they native, exotic, or invasive.  Still, all facilities have limited resources, and we have to use them as best as we can.  If I had to make a decision between devoting those resources to the trumpeter swan or the mute swan, I know who I'm supporting.

Derp of the Jungle

The African lion: proud symbol of heraldry and nobility for millennia.  King of the Beasts.  The quintessential great cat.  Epitome of grace and majesty and dignity.

Oh.  Never mind.  

From the News: Drive-Thru Safari for Sale

Central Texas drive-thru safari for sale houses over 100 animal species

I know that it's only October, but the holiday season is coming.  In case anyone was wondering, I take a size 240-acres.  In all seriousness, I do wonder what happens with places like this on the market.  Besides my joke of buying it myself, my ideal wish would be for it to be acquired by a zoo or consortium of zoos to use as a breeding facility for larger herds of animals, similar to White Oak or The Wilds and gain accreditation from AZA.   It would still be open to the public, both allowing the public to continue to enjoy the park while contributing to zoo conservation and sustainability efforts.

Fat Bear, Sleepy Bear

In the mid-fall, many national parks begin to advertise for #fatbearweek, to celebrate one of the most impressive behavioral feats of feasting in the northern hemisphere.  Brown bears and black bears will set to work gorging themselves, trying to put on as much weight as they can before winter.  These famished fattening is then followed, naturally, by a state of winter torpor.  It's not a true hibernation, per se - bears may wake up in the middle of it to get up and forage more - but it's fairly similar.  Then, when the bears emerge from their dens in the spring (in the case of females, sometimes being accompanied by cubs), they again give vent to extreme hunger, seeking to replace the weight that they lost.

Photo Credit: Maryland Zoo in Baltimore

In a zoo setting, this behavior isn't really necessary.  We have the means to feed the bears year round and allow them to be active.  Tropical bears, such as sloth bears and Andean bears, ironically are awake during our winters, while the northern bears are tucked away and asleep.  Still, allowing the bears to stuff themselves, sleep, and then awake and re-stuff themselves, if not strictly required, is still the natural behavior of these species.  Whenever possible, I do feel like we should be trying to replicate natural behavior, which in the case of the bears means allowing them to hibernate.  For about a third of their lifespan - being every winter - their life will be almost identical to that of a wild bear.

It also helps that it's one less exhibit you need to clean for a big chunk of the year.  But don't worry - they will totally make up for the mess and the work in the spring.

Species Fact Profile: Jamaican Boa (Epicrates subflavus)

                                                                  Jamaican Boa

                                                       Epicrates subflavus (Stejneger, 1901)

Range: Jamaica, Goat Island (off the southwest coast) 

Habitat:  Forest (including mangroves, wetlands, montane forest, dry limestone scrub forest)

Diet: Rodents, Bats, Birds, Lizards, Frogs

Social Grouping:  Solitary

Reproduction:  Breeding takes place between February and April, stimulated by changes in temperature, rainfall, and photoperiod.  Females select the males with the most attractive pheromones, but may mate with several males in a breeding season.  Some evidence for sperm storage.  Eggs are retained within the body until hatching 6-7 months later.  The female gives live-birth to 5-44 young,  with litter size corresponding to the size of the female.  Breeding usually first occurs at about 7 years old, but may take place as late as 10 years old if the snake is a slow grower.  

Lifespan: 20-30 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Vulnerable, CITES Appendix I.

• Body length 1.5 -2.3 meters, weight up to 5 kilograms.  It is the largest native snake and largest terrestrial predator on Jamaica.  Females are generally longer and heftier than males.  Males have longer tails and longer cloacal spurs
• The upper part of the head is usually grey or dark green, transitioning into a golden-yellow or red-brown further down the body.  From the neck down, an increasing number of black markings appear until the animal is almost black by the tail.  Scales are iridescent, reflecting a rainbow sheen when exposed to light, especially towards the tail.  Neonates are pale orange on the back with dark brown crossbars and pink-orange on the belly, typically obtaining their adult coloration at about 1.5 years old
• Primarily active at night, spending the day refuging in crevices, tree hollows, or in dense vegetation, sometimes underground.  May be observed basking in the early morning
•  Forages for prey in the trees (sometimes on the ground) using chemical cues and then remaining motionless until prey comes within striking range.  Prey is seized, constricted, and swallowed.  Adults will sometimes hang on branches or rocks near the entrances of caves, snatching up bats as they fly out to forage for the evening.  
• Major nest predator of the also-endangered black-billed parrot (Amazona agilis)    
• Once abundant across range, has been in decline since the colonization of Jamaica in the 1500s·         European colonizers introduced predators in the form of dogs, cats, and pigs, which also competed with the boas for food.  They also introduced rats, which later resulted in the introduction of mongooses as a rodent-control agent, which in turn became another predator of the boas (the rats also became a new food source for the boas).  The boas were also persecuted due to fear, mistakenly considered venomous, especially by agricultural workers unexpectedly encountering the snakes in their fields.   Population decline furthered by the loss of habitat (over 90% of its range) for agriculture, mining

Not-So Spooky

Spring and summer are the most popular seasons to visit the zoo, though fall has admittedly always been my favorite time to come.  Especially October.  The temperature is ideal, the animals more active, and the crowds more manageable, especially during the weekdays.  One minor quibble I often have about visiting a zoo in the fall, however, is Halloween.  For many zoos, Halloween is one of the busiest holidays - not the day itself, per se, but often the weekends around it, which are filled with trick-or-treating and other events.  Many zoos go all-out in their holiday décor.  And, I admit, sometimes I find it a little irksome to be exploring a zoo for the first time and finding every square foot crammed with scarecrows and pumpkins. It can be somewhat distracting, even a little ugly and overmuch.  

All of this is very minor, and I understand that zoos need to raise money and community support, and some family-friendly seasonal fun is a great way to do it.  I just get frustrated when it takes away from my ability to fully enjoy the zoo.  For example, sometimes areas of the zoo will be closed off to accommodate preparation for the Halloween events, such as a trick or treating loop.  Or I can't see certain exhibits because the front of it is crowded with kids, not there to see the animal, but to play a game which is inconveniently stationed there.  

None of that, of course, touches my main source of holiday irritation - the endless repeating music.  The thing is, there are only about 5 Halloween songs out there, which means that by mid-October I became way, way too familiar with the lyrics to Monster Mash.

Zoos can and should do what they need to do bolster their profile the community.  Ideally, though, it can be done without interfering with folks who are there for the primary business of the zoo - admiring and appreciating the wildlife that calls the zoo home.

Leaf Peeping (and Raking)

Though we usually associate the start of the fall season with Labor Day, the season officially turned just last week.  Fall is synonymous with the changing of leaves, with many folks drawn to forest drives this time of year to enjoy the autumn colors.  For those zoos which are lucky enough to be located in wooded areas - especially those in forested parks with lots of older, bigger trees, the effect can be pretty spectacular.  I sometimes feel like we have as many visitors these months who've come to walk beneath the trees and enjoy the crisp air than we do to see the animals.

Those leaves don't stay up forever, though, and they do eventually drop.  Leaf removal is a major job this time of year - but I try to leave some of them where they lie.  At least for a while.  For animals with outdoor enclosures, I consider fall leaves to be excellent enrichment.   They provide new scents and substrates and textures for the animals to enjoy, to root around through or sniff and roll around in.  You can also rake them up into large piles, then hide treats or toys in there for the animals to dive in after.

In other areas, off the visitor paths and out of planted areas, I like to let the leaves lie as well.  A lot of small native critters overwinter in the leaf litter or lay their eggs in it.  Raking it up and sending it away to compost can disrupt their populations - not only bad for them, but problematic for the birds and other species that feed on those now-missing bugs.  So take a lesson from here for your own home as well.  You aren't being lazy by leaving those leaves in the yard until spring.  You're a conservation-minded naturalist!