Sporcle Quiz: US Zoos by Exhibit

US Zoos by Exhibit

You've Got to Let Me Know - Should I Stay (away) or Should I Go (to the zoo)?

Have you every seen a trailer for a movie that looked so awe-inspiringly bad that you knew that you had to see it?  Preferably without spending any money, maybe in the comfort of your home so that you and a group of like-minded friends could heckle it and jeer at it, delighting at the awful acting, the wooden dialogue, the nonsensical plot, and the cheesy special effects?  Sure you have.  Everyone has.  There's a difference between Oscar bait and a cult classic - one of them is at least usually fun to watch.

The same can be said about an atrocious book (harder to share in a group) or an outrageously bad song.  But what about a zoo or aquarium?

There are zoos - specific exhibits and entire facilities - that I've seen pictures or videos of that have left me speechless... and in a The Last Airbender kind of way, not a Shawshank Redemption way.  Sometimes they just scream low-effort, low-budget, low-knowledge, knock-ups of chicken wire and two-by-fours.  Others really horrify me because I see them and realize that someone put a lot of time and effort and money into creating something so... bad.

What can be "wrong" can be any number of things.  The enclosure can be too small, or be of a design that doesn't benefit the animal (too low for arboreal animals, too shallow/narrow to allow animals to get away from the public and/or each other).  There could be a general design flaw that makes it a poor habitat, like a habitat that's too open for a shy species, too flat for a mountain one (or too hilly for a grassland species), or a pool/climbing structures/etc that, while present, don't facilitate those behaviors.  It could be an excess of sunlight or of dampness, or a lack of enrichment or natural substrate.  A solitary species could be jammed cheek-to-cheek with too many other animals, or a social species alone, or predators and prey could be in uncomfortable proximity.  Like I said, there's any number of things that could be wrong.

Part of me always wants to take a closer look and take a visit.  Sometimes it's just morbid curiosity, or a willingness to be righteously indignant.  That's what drove me to pay my one and only visit to the Natural Bridge Zoo years ago.  Other times, it's a belief that you can learn just as much by studying bad facilities as you can good ones, in the same way that a compass that only points south can be as useful as one that only points north.  By better understanding what doesn't work, you can help plan for what does.

But these days, I try not to.

A bad movie is one thing - the worse that happens is that the director keeps making more, which can also be fun.  How many Sharknados are we at now?  A bad zoo is another.  Visiting means pumping money into them, which prolonging and encouraging the conditions that those animals are kept in.  It's one thing if a zoo is actively working to improve facilities and you feel that your money will go towards animal care and enhancements.  It's another if you have reason to suspect that it will just go to the owner or, at worse, lead to the purchase of more acquisitions.  In these cases, you've got to vote with your wallet.

I saw a post on social media recently about a petting zoo entirely in a shopping mall in Minnesota that had, among other unusual animals, had a species of small carnivore that I'd never seen before, and would be interested in seeing.  But not at the price of supporting some of the animal care practices I saw advertised.  

From the News: First IVF rhino pregnancy could save northern white rhinos from the brink of extinction

 First IVF rhino pregnancy could save northern white rhinos from the brink of extinction

Rumble in the Jungle II

 "Once there was a madman in Australia who was a black belt in karate.  He wanted to prove himself against the lions.  He lost.  Badly.  The keepers found only half his body in the morning."

- Yann Martel, The Life of Pi

It can be dangerous to believe your own press.  In the 1980's, star boxer Mike Tyson (he of ear-biting fame) believed himself to be unstoppable and unbeatable.  As such, he once offered a zookeeper $10,000 to let him into a gorilla exhibit to box a gorilla.  The offer was declined (which now that I think about it, is actually pretty impressive considering zookeeper salaries.  10K is a lot of money to a keeper now, let alone in the 80's).

How would Mr. Tyson have fared against the gorilla?  Assuming that the animal actually wanted to fight and didn't ignore or evade him, I suspect the answer is "poorly."  Mike Tyson would have left that enclosure in several black trash bags.

Which doesn't mean that I haven't heard a fair share of people (many of whom probably have a lot less reason to be cocky about their fighting abilities than Mike Tyson.  They generally feel safe to talk smack about the animals because they know that their bluff will never be called (though I could use $10,000).  There's times I've been tempted to pretend to go along with it - just to see how close we can get to the door of the bear/ape/big cat exhibit before they make their excuses.

Fun tip, from someone who's had to wrangle a wide variety of animals, not always successfully, and sometimes against animals that you wouldn't think of as scary.  If you're asking a keeper if you could win in a fight with ____ animal, the answer is usually, "no."

Different and Delicate

I've been to many zoos with free-ranging guineafowl over the years, but they've always been the domesticated form of the helmeted species, never the vulturine guineafowl or crested guineafowl, the other two species that you see in American zoos.  Likewise, I've been to dozens of zoos with free-ranging peafowl, but always of the Indian, or blue, species.   I've never seen free-roaming green peafowl.

I'd wondered about that for a while.  Was it a question that some species were more delicate than others and required more direct, controlled care to thrive, whereas other species were hardier and could be let loose, with a reasonable amount of confidence that they could handle themselves?  Or was it a matter of economics, that some species were considered to valuable (either for financial cost or for conservation status) to subject to the risks of a free-roaming life, be it a great-horned owl or a tram driver who isn't watching where they are going, and must be kept safe?  

I suppose part of it also came down to another question.  Is being free-ranging the ideal?  In a perfect world, would the zoo be allowing all animals to run free on grounds, locking up only those that were deemed necessary for safety or animal welfare?  All of the room to roam, the diverse habitats around the zoo, the constant variety, the exercise, etc.  Or is it a less-than-ideal living situation, animals being risked for the purposes of a better guest experience, in which case those blue peafowl and helmeted guineas are starting to look a little... well... disposable?

It looks like there isn't a completely clean answer.  Yes, some species are more delicate than others.  Green peafowl are considerably less cold-tolerant than blue peafowl, and catching up a bunch of free-ranging, flighted birds every fall could be very stressful, but necessary if no one is to be left out during a freeze.  They are also more endangered than the blues.  Vulturines are similarly more delicate than helmeteds, less tolerant of damp conditions.  The debate about the benefits versus costs of allowing other species to roam free is ongoing, though I do feel that more zoos are moving towards bringing their formerly-free birds into aviaries, or de-accessioning them altogether, than the other way around.

Species Fact Profile: Vulturine Guineafowl (Acryllium vulturinum)

                                                      Vulturine Guineafowl

                                            Acryllium vulturinum (GR Gray, 1840)

Range: Northeast Africa, from southern Ethiopia into northern Tanzania

Habitat:  Dry Sparsely-Wooded Grasslands

Diet:  Seeds, Roots, Tubers, Small Invertebrates, Small Vertebrates

Social Grouping:  Flocks up to 25

Reproduction: Lays 4-8 (possibly up to 18) cream-colored eggs in a grass-lined scrape on the ground.  Multiple hens may share a nest and share incubation duties.  Incubation 28 days. Chicks are precocial and fledge at 10 weeks, sexually mature at 2 years

Lifespan: 15 Years

      Conservation Status:  IUCN Least Concern

• Largest of the guineafowl species.  Measures 61-71 centimeters long, with a round body and small head.  Weigh 1-1.6 kilograms.  Males are slightly larger than the females.  Wings, neck, legs, and tail are longer than those of other guineafowl species
• Sexes look alike.  Body plumage is black with fine white speckles, except for the breast, which is bright blue.  The face and neck are bare; the face is blue, darkening to black, with a small ruff of brownish feathers at the back of the neck.  There is a cape of long, glossy blue and white feathers around the neck.  Juveniles similar to adults, but duller
• Very terrestrial, if confronted with danger with run rather than fly (speeds up to 35 kilometers per hour).  Roosts in trees at night for safety
• Males can be very aggressive not only to one another (sometimes fatally so) but to females; even though the sexes look alike, they can often be distinguished by behavior and posture
• Genus name translates to "small peak," (absent the crest seen in many guineafowl), species name means "vulture-like" in reference to naked head and neck
• Hunted locally for food, but population is considered secure in wild

The Brainless Bunch

 Among the most popular of animals in many zoos are, ironically, one of the least endangered and (for the keepers) most aggravating.  Free-roaming peafowl (especially the males, with their beautiful colors and long trains) are the delight of many zoo visitors, and the ultimate headache for many zookeepers.  Peafowl, however, aren't the only birds that can sometimes be encountered free-roaming at your local zoo.  You might see chickens, for example, or perhaps waterfowl, either wild or, more commonly, domestic.

You might also spy something out of the corner of your eye that resembles a bowling ball with a tiny little head, hurtling across the path.  More likely than not, you'll hear it before you see it, with its creaky, cackling call ringing loud.

If there's one bird that's caused me more headaches over my career than the free-roaming peafowl, it's been the free-roaming guineas.  The birds are the domesticated strain of Numida meleagris, the helmeted guineafowl.  Native to sub-Saharan Africa, the species has been introduced across the globe as a farm animal, from Australia to the West Indies to Europe.  Growing up, I'd occasionally see one darting across the main road near my house, as if hoping to see if they could cause a car to swerve and crash.

Domestic guineas look reasonably like their wild-counterparts, though, as with all domestics, they are more prone to color morphs, such as pied or pearled.  Primarily raised for meat, it has the added advantage of being an excellent consumer of pests, especially known as devourers of ticks, including those that spread Lyme disease.  They also are used as sentries to warn chickens to predators.

Unfortunately, I never was able to witness that keen sense of self-preservation for which guineas are supposedly kept.  In my experience, they've been some of the most bumbling, hapless animals ever, always getting in trouble and needing to be saved from predators, both wild and managed (just because you can go anywhere in the zoo doesn't mean that you should... such as, say, a big cat enclosure).  They would get chased by visitors and not figure out how to get away, or wander into open buildings and not figured out how to get out, or stand stupidly in the middle of foul weather and completely ignore the shelter that they used just the night before.  They seem absolutely, almost deliberately, brainless.

Of course, the only "danger" that they ever showed much real cunning in avoiding was... well, me.  Whenever I needed to catch them up for something, suddenly evolution and instinct kicked back in and they became masters of evasive maneuvering again.  Once I even resorted to trying the old Wile E. Coyote routine and leaving food underneath a box propped up with a stick and tied to some string.  It didn't work in real life any better than it did in the cartoons.

Well, what did that say about me if I couldn't outsmart the dumbest animals in the zoo?

Zoochosis

I've always had a theory about the popularity of zombie movies and TV shows.  Zombies look like regular people but are really unhuman, unfeeling monsters.  As such, you're allowed to dispatch them as brutally and savagely as possible without even feeling a tiny bit of remorse.  Want to run that six year old boy over with a steamroller?  It's ok, he's not really a kid, he's a zombie.  Want to take off that little old lady's head with a shovel?  It's ok, she's a zombie.  The games let people express violent fantasies, while telling themselves that they aren't really pretending to hurt people.

So you can imagine my trepidation when I heard about the new game Zoochosis, coming soon.  Yay, I thought.  People playing out their Rambo fantasies, unleashed on animals.  Hard pass.

Thankfully, it isn't quite that bad.

In Zoochosis, developed by Clapperhands, you play a zookeeper (at the zoo at night, of course), where some of the animals are being afflicted by a terrible syndrome that makes them slavering, Lovecraftian monsters.  Unlike a normal zombie/monster game, however, the mission isn't to kill the twisted animals; it's to cure them and save them.  And, that, I will admit, did soften things up a little more me.  I like to think that, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse of some sort, a keeper risking their life to save their charges.

Still a pass from me, though, but maybe others will enjoy.

Is It Safe?

I don't know if there is a single question which gets asked more - or causes me more dread - at work than those three words, and the more long-winded variants thereof.  Is it safe?  Is it safe for visitors, is it safe for staff, is it safe for animals?  And what is "it"?  That's the really frustrating part.  "It" can be just about anything.

Is it safe for visitors to interact with wild animals (a question that we'll pretend is completely unrelated to yesterday's post)?  In a walk-through exhibit?  In a feeding opportunity?  As an educational ambassador?  Is it different if it's a small, private encounter for select VIPs, versus an experience that's open to the general public?

Is it safe for keepers to share space with an animal?  Certain keepers, depending on their training an experience?  Certain animals, but not others (such as it's safe to go in with the males, but not the females)?  Certain times of year, such as not in breeding season/rut?  Yes, but only if working in groups?

Is it safe for animals to be in a mixed species exhibit?  There's a lot of factors that go into determining that.  What size enclosure?  What are the personalities and histories of the individuals involved?  What are the sexes of the animals involved?  Will you be trying to breed one or both species?

Is enrichment (including exhibit features) safe?  How likely is the animal to eat it/choke on it/stab itself with it/strangle itself with it/etc?  A pool can pose drowning risks, and a climbing structure can pose falling risks.  Where do you draw the line between unacceptable risk and allowing the animal to express natural behaviors?   

Are exhibits safe for keepers to work in?  Keepers can fall from climbing structures and get hurt, for example.  Even more dangerous are aquatic features, especially those exhibits that require keepers or aquarists to dive (fun fact: a surprisingly large chunk of the AZA accreditation application is dedicated to answering questions about your dive team, if you have one, and safety protocols pertaining to them).

Is it safe to work at all?  Animals need care no matter what, which means that keepers must be prepared to work in extreme weather conditions, from hurricanes to blizzards.  How can zoos make sure that animals are being cared for (and safe) while keepers themselves are safe in such conditions?

Safety concerns can pop up in every aspect of the job.  Whenever we want to use a new cleaning material, a new paint, a new building material, whatever, it has to be rigorously screened by our vet to make sure that it's safe for the staff, the visitors, and the animals.  The later are the major wildcard - we have lots of research on how safe various materials and chemicals are for people, but much less so for wild animals.  Birds and amphibians are extra susceptible; exposure to the wrong cleaning chemical could be a death sentence for your animals.  Also, many zoo animals are smaller than humans, so could be more impacted by doses of exposure that humans wouldn't be troubled by.

It's no surprise that innovations in the zoo and aquarium world tend to be slower and more cautious than they may have been in the past.  We're as a rule much less open to experimentation, and every innovation is being (or at least should be) carefully, painstakingly thought out to make sure everyone, human and animal is safe.  It can be maddeningly tedious at times, but the well-being of humans and animals should always be the top priority.  

From the News: Visitor Bitten by Shark at Atlantis Bahamas

That child I saw being bitten in the butt by a penguin at Tanganyika Wildlife Park might think that she has a story to tell when she gets older... but that's small potatoes.

10-year-old Maryland boy bitten by shark at Bahamas resort

Perhaps the title of this article doesn't strike you as too unusual.  Well, it takes a sharp twist when you learn that this shark bite... wasn't in the ocean.  It happened in a tank.  The child was a visitor at the Atlantis Paradise Island Resort in the Bahamas, which offers many exhibits of marine life as part of the attractions guests can experience.  One such opportunity available to guests is to swim with sharks.

I'm sure it goes fine 99% of the time.  It's just that in this case it... didn't.  A major part of the draw of doing things like this for many people is the perception of "safe danger," not unlike what draws some people (but not including me) to roller coasters.   

It's hard to manage something as 100% "safe danger" - there inevitably is always that chance that, as in this case, something can go wrong, no matter how carefully you plan or manage it. I'm sure a lot of folks reading the news will think that it's insane that this was even offered as an option for visitors.  The truth is, it's probably a lot safer than it seems; I'd love to know the statistics for how many visitors have participated in the program versus the number that have had any negative interaction, and whether or not something unusual happened to cause the incident here.

Thankfully, the bitten boy is expected to be ok.

Artificiality

My zoo is closed today.  Which isn't surprising, because just about every zoo in North America appears to be closed today.  Many zoos are blanketed under a think fall of snow.  Others "only" have crippling cold to deal with.  It's especially hard for zoos that are in southern locations that don't usually get snow/cold weather - it's hard to move your animals into winter holding when they don't actually have winter holding.  Some northern zoos just close down for the season.

This morning, I saw a post that was cheerfully saying that, even if the zoo is closed, we can benefit from the tech revolution - Artificial Intelligence, Virtual Reality, and the like.

I thought it sounded kind of sad.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a complete technophobe.  There are some applications that I find very helpful, including with application to animals.  For example, I frequently use my Merlin App when I go birding, which has been very helpful for me as a novice birder, but which I know some more experienced birders discount as "cheating" or "not real birdwatching."

But imagine opting not to go birdwatching because it was cold outside, and you could enjoy a virtual reality experience, seeing more birds than you'd ever see on a hike out in the woods, from the cozy comfort of your bedroom?

I've always found the joy of animals in zoos and aquariums to be that they are real, they are live, they are unpredictable, and they are self-willed.  When you go to the zoo, you don't know if they animals will be out and visible, or what they will be doing.  They may engage in fascinating behaviors in front of you.  They may sleep.  They may hide.  They may completely ignore you.  You don't know, because you can't control them.  They control themselves.

Sure, if a community doesn't have a zoo or aquarium, there's a niche that could be filled, or for doing displays of species which can't be kept in zoos (like great whales), but I don't imagine any computer simulation really replacing the reality of interacting with an animal, be it a budgie on a stick or a beluga gazing at you curiously through the glass of the tank to a boa being held by a docent, in the slightest way.

There's no substitution for actual life in front of you.

Book Review: Beaverland - How One Weird Rodent Made America

When I studied ecology in school, I was always fascinated by the concept of the keystone species.  The idea is that certain plants and animals have an outsized impact on their environments and the other species around them.  One example which was always held up was North America's largest rodent, the American beaver.  Through virtue of their dams and lodges, beavers drastically alter landscapes, changing environmental conditions for countless other species that share their range.  What I didn't know at the time was that there are keystone species in history as well as ecology.  That is to say, a species can also have an outsized impact on shaping the course of human history, as well as the natural world.

Leila Philip titled her celebration of this special creature Beaverland, and her subtitle, How One Weird Rodent Made America, is hardly an exaggeration.  From the earliest days of European colonization, beavers, and more importantly their luxurious pelts, were one of the most sought after commodities of the continent.  The obsessive drive to find and exploit new beaver populations led to the decimation of indigenous peoples (many First Nations had their own long and storied tradition with the beavers), wars between colonial powers, and the expansion of the nascent American nation from one coast to the other.  The results were devastating for the beavers, which soon found themselves tottering on the edge of extinction.

The loss of beavers was more than the loss of a species.  It was the reshaping of entire ecosystems.  What is so remarkable, however, is that we are able to watch those ecosystems change back in real-time, as beavers gradually recolonize their former haunts, sometimes naturally, sometimes with human assistance.  Of course, we've done a fairly good job of reshaping those habitats ourselves in the absence of beavers, building dams of our own, draining wetlands, and putting cities and streets where previously there was forest and field.  Much of Philip's book is spent documenting the collision course between two species, both major landscape engineers, as they try to share living spaces, with results that are sometimes comedic, sometimes tragic.

Beaverland features interviews and encounters with all sorts of people who interact with the flat-tailed river rats.  Philip tags along with a modern fur trapper as he tends his traps, then follows the furs to auctions (where she is almost tackled after being mistaken for an animal rights activist).  She visits sanctuaries set up to preserve beavers and their habitat.  She works alongside environmental engineers who are working on solutions for how to live alongside beavers in a sustainable manner.  And, from the very beginning, she celebrates the beavers that live on her property at home, enjoying the little glimpses into the wild that their presence offers.

I was slightly miffed not to see any encounters with beavers in zoos.  Then again, zoos seldom do much of a job in highlighting beavers.  The animals are nocturnal, spending much of their day in their lodges, usually emerging later in the day to feed.   I don't think I've ever seen a beaver exhibit that really highlighted the species as much as I think they should, both the ecological and historical/cultural importance being celebrated.  I'm afraid to say, I think a lot of zoo folks think of beavers as somewhat boring - at least, until they actually see one up and about.  

Beavers, you see, are actually pretty massive.  I think most visitors are expecting something the size of a Jack Russell, instead of a big, furry behemoth that they actually encounter when they're lucky enough to see one awake.   And when they are awake, that's when you can get to know them as Philip does - charismatic, personable, charming animals, who have done more than perhaps any other North American animal to shape the face of our country - physically and culturally.

Beaverland: How One Weird Rodent Made America at Amazon.com

Beyond Barriers

It's occurred to me in the past (most recently during the aforementioned penguin photo-op at Tanganyika) that a zoo barrier has two jobs.  One is to keep animals in.  One is to keep visitors out.  A barrier can do it's job 99% of the time without any problems.  The other 1% can be problematic, though.

For the first job, a barrier may work to keep animals of a given species in most of the time, but there are always exceptions.  Some individuals of a species may be just different enough - strong enough to break a fence, small enough to slip through a gap, tall enough to clamber over a wall - than their fellows.  Some individuals may also be more inclined, for one reason or another, to try, while others will not.  Likewise, just as a person might suddenly find themselves fueled with adrenaline in an emergency and capable of performing feats that they otherwise couldn't, like lifting a car off of a trapped person, so can an animal with extraordinary motivation do what we previously considered impossible (or at least unlikely).  I kept kangaroos for years in a paddock with a fence that held them no problem - but one day we were catching them up, and one of them came pretty darn close to clearing the fence when we had it cornered.

For the second job, most visitors will respect the barrier and stay on their side, but there are always people who won't.  Sometimes it's a careless mistake, like leaning too far over, or trying to climb up for a better view.  Sometimes it's mischievous or malicious intent.  The later is much harder to guard against.

The first role of the barrier - keeping animals in - is self-evidently important.  I always find myself exasperated by the second role of keeping visitors out.  I'd love to have a zoo with minimal barriers, allowing the greatest possible access to the animals.  I recently visited a private bird collection, where the owners allowed us to wander in and out of their aviaries, photographing birds from inches away (and sometimes less), with basically no supervision.  They trusted us to not behave in a way that would stress or harm the birds, and to show good sense around the animals (i.e., if we noticed that birds were acting stressed, to quietly leave and give them their space).  They knew that we could be trusted to use the disinfectant footbaths that they set out, and to close the doors securely behind us when we left.

I would love to give every visitor that freedom to explore an animal facility and have as much access as possible to the animals (without the expensive, time-consuming need for heavy supervision from staff).  That would require trust, as well as confidence that they would behave in an appropriate manner.  I really do believe that 90% of the public would be fine, and that of the remaining 10%, at least half of them would be folks erring out of ignorance, not malice.  That other 5% though, can really ruin everything.

Cry for the Camera

I always want people to have a nice time at the zoo - even if I don't actually work at the zoo in question.  Part of it is all of the hospitality training that was drilled into me as a teen volunteer.  Part of it is a sense that, if people remember having a good time at the zoo, they're more likely to support zoos and aquariums in the future.  Visitors who are cranky/tired/otherwise unhappy are a lot less open to receiving education and conservation messaging.

And so, when I'm visiting another zoo, just as a plain old visitor, I still find myself "working" a fair amount.  That's why I give directions to visitors that I see looking confused at their maps.  That's why I'll point out a hidden animal that a family can't find.  And that's why I offered to take a picture of a mom and her daughter at Tanganyika Wildlife Park.

It was a fairly cool day, and being a weekday there weren't too many other folks there.  It just so happened that the three of us were the only folks inside the penguin building at the time.  I was over at the otters, when I noticed that the mom was going to take her little girl's photo.  Remembering my hospitality training, I popped over and asked if she would like me to take the photo - that way both she and her daughter could be in it together.  She gratefully accepted, handed me her phone, and knelt down by her daughter, arm draped around her shoulder.  They were right up against the rope netting that formed the barrier of the penguin exhibit.

I clicked the button at the exact moment that the girl jumped skyward, yelping in pain with contorted face.  An African penguin had crept up behind her and, poking its beak through the mesh, bit her square on the butt.

Mom immediately pulled down the girl's pants (as I spun around, not wanting to watch, but not able to leave since I still had their phone) so she could inspect the afflicted body part.  I busied myself industriously studying the otters again, my back firmly to the scene.  After a moment, the mom confirmed that there was no broken skin - just a pinch - and collected her phone, then went off to look for an employee to provide some ice for her child's derrière.

I wish I'd had the presence of mind to look at the photo while I was waiting to see if I had, in fact, caught the act itself.  I suppose that, at least for that family, Tanganyika was even more interactive than it was advertised as.

I didn't offer to take any photos for anyone else that day.  I figured one good deed going punished was enough for one day. 

Zoo Review: Tanganyika Wildlife Park, Part II

Tanganyika Wildlife Park bills itself as the most interactive wildlife park in the Midwest, and not without just cause.  The facility offers several opportunities for guests to interact with animals.  Some of these opportunities are fairly run-of-the-mill, typical zoo experiences.  Others are quite unique.

Upon purchasing a ticket, a visitor is given tickets to participate in a certain number (it was five at the time of my visit) of "basic" animal interactions.  They can use all of them on a single type of interaction, or spread them out among different experiences.  Among the typical zoo experiences is the giraffe feeding station.  Tanganyika maintains a very large herd of giraffes, split into two groups and rotated between the feeding yard and a back yard.  Another fairly typical feeding experience (though one that is very popular with the public) is the lorikeet feeding aviary.

The zoo also boasts of a kangaroo walkabout, as well as encounter stations where visitors can pet/feed African tortoises, rabbits, guinea pigs, and goats.  I remember thinking that all they needed was to add a stingray touch tank and they could complete the standard hands-on zoo experience.

There were, of course, a few more unique opportunities for visitors to get hands-on with animals...

Walk-through lemur exhibits are fairly common in European facilities, but very rare in American ones.  Tanganyika has an island habitat for ring-tailed lemurs, which visitors can enter under staff supervision.  Upon being given a small cup of feed, the visitor will soon find himself/herself with eager lemurs sitting on their lap, happily feeding (while staff take pictures/try to keep the troop in line).

Many zoos offer behind-the-scenes tours with rhinos, but at Tanganyika rhino encounters are part of the daily experience at the outdoor exhibit.  At certain times of day visitors are allowed access to the Indian rhinos to feed and touch the behemoths (the rhinos had just welcomed a calf at the time of my visit, so this encounter was not available that day).  I remember how absolutely spellbound I was as a young zoo visitor when I got to pet an Indian rhino for the first time (photo safari at San Diego Zoo Safari Park), so I can imagine what a thrill it would be for kids and adults alike.

Perhaps the most unusual of the "basic" animal encounters is the pygmy hippo feeding experience.  This is what really drove me to visit the park, though I'll admit, I found it a little... underwhelming.  Mainly because there was no hands-on aspect, which I suppose is fair, as they don't advertise it as such.  The hippos approach a barrier, and you are given the opportunity to toss carrot sticks into their mouths.  Note: a pygmy hippo's mouth is much smaller than a Nile hippo's, so it's a much harder target, especially as carrot sticks don't toss as easily as one might suspect.  Fortunately staff gave me a mulligan after one of mine bounced off the hippo's mouth.

Tanganyika also offers additional paid encounters to feed and interact with other species.  Doubtlessly the most unusual of these is the opportunity to swim with the African penguins - as far as I can tell, this is the only zoo in the country that offers this experience.

Tanganyika was certainly a unique facility, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it when I left.  Seeing so many hands-on opportunities always makes me feel ambivalent.  On one hand I worry that it is too much exposure for the animals (especially the lemurs in this post-COVID era).  On the other, I've had all of these opportunities (minus the hippo feeding) before, and I know how transformative they can be for some people.  I do worry about exotic animals being in a situation where they mostly function as feed-consumers and pet-acceptors, rather than as... well, animals.

Tanganyika's enclosures seemed adequate, if not exciting, and the collection looked well cared for and healthy.  I've heard concerns from some zoo folks about the zoo supplying animals to less-appropriate facilities (this is the main producer of African penguins outside of AZA).  That being said, many AZA zoos do collaborate with Tanganyika, which means they've cleared their vetting process.

I suppose it comes down to values, then.  If you're a visitor who's priority is to see animals in naturalistic habitats with an emphasis on natural behavior, or want to see a variety of species, especially smaller animals, such as birds and herps, this might not be your favorite facility.  If you want to have interactions and close encounters with animals, however, this might be your favorite zoo.

Zoo Review: Tanganyika Wildlife Park, Part I

For the first review of 2024, we'll have a somewhat different review for a very different facility.  Tanganyika Wildlife Park is located in Goddard, Kansas, just a short drive away from the renown (at least within the zoo community) Sedgwick County Zoo.  The facility was founded by Jim Fouts, a former zookeeper-turned-animal dealer.  The original plan for the campus was a breeding and holding center, rather than public exhibition.  Local curiosity soon drove Fouts to offer guided tours, which eventually resulted in his opening the facility to the public as a full-fledged zoo in 2008.

Tanganyika makes an interested contrast from Sedgwick, which highly reflects its owner's philosophies.  Exhibits and facilities are more utilitarian than natural - lots of enclosures built of poles and wire, with little emphasis on immersive elements.  This isn't to say that the enclosures are necessarily bad for the animals - though some certainly are better than others.  It just means that they look more like something you'd see in a private keeper's yard rather than a major zoo.  There is also an extraordinary emphasis on visitor-animal interaction, which is Tanganyika's hallmark.

Today's review will largely look at the exhibits, tomorrow at the interactive components.

The exhibits of Tanganyika are grouped around a central lagoon, which houses island exhibits for white-handed gibbons, siamangs, and lemurs (the islands are among the most attractive exhibits, and wouldn't be out of place at any major US zoo).  There isn't a particular rhyme or reason to the organization of the animals themselves, either by geography or taxonomy.  The largest single exhibit holds the facility's crown jewel, an enormous herd of giraffe, with satellite exhibits for okapi and bongo (except for the brief period of time Columbus Zoo lost its membership, this marked the first time I'd seen okapi outside of an AZA facility).  This is easily one of the biggest giraffe herds I'd ever seen, a necessity for Tanganyika, as feeding the giraffes is one of the major draws here.  Other large mammals nearby are pygmy hippopotamus and Indian rhino.  Hoofstock yards around the grounds feature Grevy's zebras, red river hogs, and springbok, as well as a red kangaroo walk-through.

Breeding big cats is a specialty of this zoo, especially clouded leopards and snow leopards, the exhibits for both were fairly nice.  The clouded leopards had paired exhibits with a viewing area in between - they were tall habitats of adequate size, something you don't always see in unaccredited facilities, while the snow leopards had a someone plain habitat that still managed to incorporate a decent amount of vertical complexity.  I was much less impressed by the tiger exhibit, fairly small, sparse, and overall the weak point of the facility (which surprised me, considering breeding tigers was one of the original main goals for this zoo).  Other smaller exhibits include serval, giant anteater, bat-eared fox, and rarely-displayed ratels, sometimes known as honey badgers.

Primates are also a strength of here, if in terms of diversity rather than exhibits.  Besides the primate islands, there are pole-and-wire habitats for DeBrazza's monkeys, mandrills, colobus, and Javan langurs, another species seldom anywhere.  Birds, in contrast, are in very low numbers, surprising considering that Fouts was once primarily a bird dealer, with a lorikeet aviary and a few small exhibits forming most of that collection.  Herps are likewise in very limited number.

The single indoor exhibit is Troublemaker's Cove, a large indoor habitat for African penguins (more of which will be said tomorrow).  The building also features exhibits (indoor and outdoor) for a white American alligator and Asian small-clawed otters, neither of which managed to impress me too much.  The whole aquatic complex was a little bland to me, and put me in the mind of a large hotel swimming pool (flanked by smaller hotel pools for the other exhibits) which had been converted into zoo exhibits.  The one positive I'll say for their penguin exhibit was that they have a good-sized colony, which I feel is a major benefit to penguin welfare and social enrichment.  I've been to too many zoos that only have three or four pairs, which hardly counts as a colony in my mind.

The zoo isn't that big, and doesn't take too long to walk around if you are just walking it.  Of course, for most visitors the main draw will be the interactive components, so it those that we will explore tomorrow.

Tanganyika Wildlife Park

Yuletide Treat

Yesterday, January 6th, is the Epiphany, the official religious end of Christmastime, and theoretically the end of the holiday's celebrations.  Among other things, it means the clearing out of Christmas decorations - including the tree.  And what could make a more satisfying end of the Christmas tree than feeding it to an elephant?

Christmas tree feedings are the less-famous cousin of the Halloween pumpkin smash.  Which makes sense.  Far fewer animals eat pine trees than pumpkins, it's not nearly as satisfying as a spectacle (lacking the smash factor), it's not as relatable to the public (since we don't eat trees), and there tend to be far fewer visitors in January than in October.  Still, it's a fun seasonal treat that provides dietary diversity for some animals that benefit from a whole lot of roughage.

Unsold Christmas trees on the menu for elephants at Berlin Zoo

Nor is the benefit limited to animals that eat trees.  Christmas trees can provide fun enrichment in other ways, such as serving as hides, bedding material, and building materials.  That and they have fun smells.

Don't drag your tree to the zoo just yet.  Different zoos have different standards with what they'll accept, with some only taking unsold, unused trees.  These reduces the risk of hooks or other dangers accidentally being left in them and swallowed by animals.  You can, however, use your tree to the benefit of animals elsewhere by allowing birds or other small animals to use it for shelter out in your yard.

Games with Great Apes

A toxic (at least to my productivity) trait I've developed in recent years is that, upon sitting down at a computer with nothing immediately pressing to do, I start to play minesweeper.  I've had an entire hour disappear as game after game flashes by.  Sometimes I'll quit in a huff of self-loathing, but inevitably return, sometimes the hiatus lasting months.  There's always some background curiosity as to what the draw is with this simple but frustrating game.  Is it the problem solving?  The sense of satisfaction that, even if nothing else is going right today, at least I beat this one game?   Surely there's nothing ingrained in human evolution or nature that would leave me wanted to click on this little minefield?

It's just fun, though.

I think of that sometimes when I see zoos that have computer game stations to challenge the cognition of their apes, especially orangutans.  Orangutans are among the most intelligent of non-human primates, sometimes overlooked because of their more solitary nature and, I suspect, because adult males look much less like us than adult male gorillas and chimps.  The orangutans really seem to enjoy the problem solving aspect of the games.  You know what orangutans in zoos don't seem to enjoy doing?

Climbing.

It was amazing how many of my orangutan photos I had to go through to find a picture of one that was actually off the ground.

Despite being the world's largest arboreal mammals, orangutans in zoos have proven hellishly difficult to get to, you know, climb.  They seem to prefer loafing around on the ground, comfortably swaddled with bedding.  Part of it may be an exhibit design flaw, but I'm not 100% sure - lots of zoos have tried more and more outlandish plans to encourage their apes to get off the ground and up into the trees.

This got me thinking - what if orangutans actually don't like to climb?  What if, in the wild, they do it simply because they have to, whether to find food or escape danger?  I've heard it said that, in the wild, the Bornean orangutan is more terrestrial than the Sumatran.  Sumatra has tigers, whereas Borneo does not.  Perhaps the absence of large, ground-dwelling predators allowed the Borneo orangutans to relax on the forest floor a bit more?

There's an interesting philosophical discussion to be had - should zoos build their enclosures around the natural behaviors of the animals in the wild, and try to replicate that?  Or should they base it on their actual experiences of keeping animals under human care, and focus on what the animals seem to actually want to do?  Cheetahs are difficult to coax into a run if they don't have to in order to catch prey.  In the absence of a need, beavers won't build dams or lodges.  And orangutans?  Something tells me that, if you were to find a way to set up several computer stations in the middle of an Indonesian rainforest, the orangutans would be happy to play video games all day.  

Species Fact Profile: Fairy Bluebird (Irena puella)

                                                        Fairy Bluebird

                                             Irena puella (Latham, 1790)

Range: Southeast Asia (a disjointed population on the west coast of India, and a larger range through the remainder of Southeast Asia, from, Myanmar east to Vietnam and south through Malaysia), Sri Lanka, the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, Indonesia (Sumatra, Borneo, Java)

Habitat:  Rainforest and deciduous forest up to 1600 meters elevation.  Sometimes occurs in agricultural plantations, but generally prefers undisturbed habitat

Diet: Fruit (especially figs), Nectar, Insects 

Social Grouping:  Pairs, Small Flocks (6-8)/  Will congregate around food sources

Reproduction:  Breeding from February through April.  Males display for females with elaborate vocalizations, which stimulates her to build a nest.  They may raise their wings and twitch their bodies and tails from side to side as a dance.  The female constructs a shallow cup-shaped nest of moss and twigs about 6-10 meters above the ground in small trees.  Seem to prefer nesting in dense forests. Usually lays 2 eggs, which are greenish-white marked with brown and measure 1.14 x 0.77 centimeters.  Both parents care for the eggs and young.  Eggs hatch after 13-14 days.  Chicks are altricial when hatching.  Chicks are able to fly at about 12 days old, but aren’t independent until about 42 days of age.  Sexual maturity reached at 1 year of age

Lifespan: 10-15 Years

      Conservation Status:  IUCN Least Concern

• Body length 24-27 centimeters, weigh 75 grams.  Females are slightly smaller than males.  Northern populations are slightly larger on average than southern ones
• Very sexually dimorphic.  Among males, the crown, back of the neck, back, and upper tail are an iridescent blue.  The side of the head, tail, wing coverts, and dorsal surface, are jet black (the blue portion of the plumage forms what looks like an hourglass pattern when viewed from the back).  Females and immature males are a dull brownish-blue.  The bill, legs, and claws are black, while the iris is red with black pupils and the eyelids are pinkish.  Highly visible and very striking in direct sunlight, but can be very hard to see in shaded forest conditions
• Sometimes called the Asian fairy bluebird to differentiate it from Irena cyanogaster, the Philippine fairy bluebird, the only other member of the genus and the family. 
• Pairs stay in touch with a loud contact call and a sharp whistle.  Not migratory, but may wander according to seasonal abundance of different fruits.  They may also gather in flocks to come down to the forest floor to bathe so as to have more eyes to keep watch for predators.  
• Populations thought to be declining due to habitat loss and fragmentation, loss of fruiting trees.  Illegal collection from the wild for the pet trade may also have an impact
• First record of the species in North American collections was of two imported by the Brookfield Zoo in 1935.  The first known captive hatch of this species in North America was in 1960, presumably in a private collection, with the first zoo hatching from a pair of wild-caught parents at the Brookfield Zoo in 1976

The Reading Room

A new year can fill you with the desire you jump right in to all of the bold new projects that you want to start.  There are training plans to initiate, enrichment devices to build, maybe even some new exhibit modifications that you want to make.  It's very easy to rush into a project halfcocked and end up bungling it badly.  I like to think that cold, unpleasant weather in January is nature's way of putting the brakes on ambitions and encouraging us to stay inside for a little longer, to stop and think.

And to read.

Basic animal care doesn't stop in the winter.  A keeper will still need to feed and clean to do other maintenance (at least in many cases - some animals virtually shut down in the winter, while some maintenance projects, such as pool cleaning, tend to be on pause until spring).  But life in winter is, on the average, quieter and slower than it is in the spring.  There's dead time, which is something that you certainly can't count on in the spring, summer, or fall.  How you use that time can end up determining how successful your busy season is.

I enjoy spending the winter as a time of research and reflection.  I do the jobs that need to be done.  Sometimes these can end up taking all day, and then some.  Some days I'm twiddling my thumbs by lunchtime.  On those days, I try not to succumb to laziness and catch up on reading, both online and in books.  

I like to read up on the latest advances in the zoo and aquarium community and what's going on at other facilities, especially looking for ideas that I can apply to my own workplace.   Conversely, I also like to read older materials, such as decades-old copies of International Zoo Yearbook and old tomes; I feel like sometimes they inspire new ideas, or give me new perspectives on problems which have been around for many years.  Mostly, I just like to read - different authors, different viewpoints, to view pictures (and videos online) just to keep my brain moving.  Spring tends to be when new animals - both as individuals and new species - come into the zoo, so it's also time to start researching them in order to formulate the best possible plans for their housing and care when they arrive.

A winter spent reading and thinking helps the slow, quiet days pass more easily.  It also makes for a more efficient, productive spring, if instead of sitting around asking coworkers, "I don't know, what do you want to do this afternoon?" we already have a well-thought out plan.   Besides, as much as I enjoy reading, when the weather is nice and the animals are active, those are the days you don't want to spend sequestered in your office reading.  That's when you want to be out with the animals, remembering why you wanted to work here in the first place.

Welcome to 2024!

Happy New Year!  A new year brings the potential for all sorts of changes and improvements, and many people have lots of plans for ways to make life better in 2024.  Just remember to take a lesson from animals - sometimes changes can be a little too much, so sometimes a slower, more measured approach is necessary.  

And some folks (and animals) just don't handle change as well as they ideally would... (the cartoon below came from a breeder's facebook page, but I've had a lot of similar experiences with all sorts of species in zoos.  Kind of makes you wonder how anything survives in the wild).

G&S Wicked Reptiles LLC