Species Fact Profile: Nicobar Pigeon (Caloenas nicobarica)

                                                                 Nicobar Pigeon

                                           Caloenas nicobarica (Linnaeus, 1758)

Range:  Nicobar and Andaman Islands, Southeast Asia, Philippines, Indonesia, New Guinea, Solomon Islands, Palau.  Most abundant on the smallest, least-disturbed islands. 

Habitat: Mature lowland and foothill forests, mangroves, up to 700 meters elevation

Diet:  Seeds, Fallen Fruits, Invertebrates

Social Grouping: Flocks of up to 85 birds, form larger colonies for breeding

Reproduction:  Courtship consists of male cooing loudly and displaying in front of the female with a series of bows.  May go on for days.  After courtship, male will select a nest site and gather nesting material to present to the female, who then arrange the items into a nest.  Pairs are monogamous, usually for life.  Nest is a crude platform of twigs; sometimes several nests may be constructed in the same tree.  Females lay 1-2 elliptical eggs, weight with a faint bluish tint.  Both parents share the incubation duties for 28-30 days.  Chicks are altricial, so parents continue to sit on them until 10 days of age, when the feathers begin to grow in.  Chicks fledge at 30-60 days old

Lifespan: 10-15 Years

      Conservation Status:  IUCN Near Threatened.  CITES Appendix I

• Body length 38-43 centimeters, weight 600 grams, heavily built with a relatively small head.  Females are slightly shorter and heavier than males
• Dark, iridescent green color with a grey head and a short white tail.  Most notable traits are the long, pointed, hair-like feathers (hackles) around the neck with green, blue, and copper-colored overtones.   Juveniles lack the white tail.  Bill is black, large feet are red.  The iris is white in adult females, but brown in males and sub-adult females
• Males have a small black knob at the base of the bill, near the forehead.  Males also have longer hackles, tend to have longer necks than the females.
• Most active in the early morning and at twilight.  Show little aggression towards each other or other birds.  Spend most of their time on the ground, roost together at night.  Fly in almost single-file columns.  Possible that the white tail feathers, which are very prominent in flight, serve as a sort of taillight to help keep flocks together when crossing the sea in dim light
• Typically seen foraging on the ground.  Strong, hooked beak is capable of cracking open nuts, which they grind up using their muscular gizzard
• Like other pigeons and doves, drinks by submerging its beak and sucking, rather than by throwing back beakfuls of water as many other birds do
• Very vocal, giving low-pitched repetitive call, may grunt like a pig if threatened
• Like other pigeons, Nicobar pigeons first feed their chicks “crop milk,” a rich fluid regurgitated by the female.  Gradually weaned onto solid foods
• Two subspecies: the nominate, found over most of the range, and C. n. pelewensis, found only on Palau, which differs mostly in having shorter neck hackles
• Genetic studies conducted by Oxford University Museum of Natural History suggest that the Nicobar pigeon is the closest living relative to the dodo and the Rodriguez solitaire.  Closest living relatives of the Nicobar pigeon are the crowned pigeons (Goura)
• Has a wide geographic range, but still threatened by hunting (primarily for food, but also for the gizzard stones, used in jewelry), live capture for the pet trade, habitat destruction, and predation from introduced mammals (primarily rats and domestic cats) to their nesting islands
• One of the most important breeding colonies, Batti Malv on the Nicobr Islands, was almost wiped out during the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami

Aviaries and Bird Houses

Almost every zoo and aquarium I've ever been to has an aviary.  Almost without exception - and those that haven't have all been facilities that either don't have any birds at all, or are primarily hoofstock facilities that might only have ostriches, emus, and other flightless birds.  In contrast, it's pretty infrequent these days that I go to a zoo and they have a bird house - and the ones that do have these exhibits, I get very excited about.

People tend to use aviary and bird house interchangeably, perhaps thinking that the former is just a fancier name for the later, but their is a difference.  An aviary refers to an enclosure that allows birds to engage in flight.  In zoos and aquariums, these are often mixed-species, and often large structures that allow visitors to walk through, among the birds.  A bird house is... well, a house with birds.  Sort of like a reptile house, or a small mammal house (another vanishing exhibit), it's a building that contains multiple exhibits for birds.  Many of which will likely be aviaries.

In recent years, more zoos have been closing their bird houses, and instead concentrating their bird collections in aviaries, again typically of the large, walk-through persuasion.  These are probably the most popular exhibits for birds (excluding penguins, which have their own exhibits and have star-power of their own that is unmatched by any other birds), and, to be fair, some of them are absolutely spectacular.  The series of massive aviaries at the San Diego Zoo, for example, or Wings of Asia at Zoo Miami, are some of the finest exhibits in the US, of birds or any other animals.

The problem is that, in most cases, the aviaries aren't nearly as extraordinary... and I find many of them kind of boring.  What's worse, I hold them to be partially responsible for the loss of bird species in zoos.

There are simply some bird species which "play nicer" than others, while also being reasonably easy to take care and attractive/amenable to being seen by the public, even in a large exhibit.  There's a regrettable lack of original thinking going around in many zoo leaders these days, to say nothing of serious risk aversion, which means that if a zoo is planning a big walk through aviary, they most often are going to draw from the same fairly limited cast of avian characters to stock it.  I can't even begin to recall how many times I've been to a zoo and seen the exact same species in very similar aviaries.  If you don't go to many zoos, I'm sure the experience is cool.  As for me... I sometimes feel my eyes roll every time I look at a pied imperial pigeon or a ringed teal, two of the classic aviary birds.

A bird house, on the other hand, interests me, mostly because you don't know what you're going to find.  There are some species which just don't fit in the big aviary model.  Maybe they're too small to easily manage in such a big space, or their care is too specialized and delicate.  Maybe their either too aggressive, or, conversely, too easily bullied and intimidated, and need to be kept separate.   For species like these, it's best to have a set up with lots of individual enclosures that allow keepers to provide more direct, personalized care.  Having lots of smaller exhibits also provides more flexibility with management.  Suppose, for example, your pair of birds has raised a clutch of young, and now they're kicking them out of the nest - aggressively.  If the birds are all in one big aviary, they might continue to chase and harass the youngsters.  In a bird house, you can just shift them to an exhibit next door, out of sight and out of mind of their parents.

Recently, I spent a wonderful day at the Bronx Zoo and, for the first time in all of my rushed visits there, really had the time to enjoy the World of Birds in peace and solitude.  Walking through the hallways, I felt like I was looking through a series of portals into different worlds - here a desert, there a jungle, here a boreal forest.  I enjoy sci-fi a lot, and the building definitely has a 1970's futuristic vibe to it, so at one point I imagined that I was looking out the open port of a spaceship into a new world, inhabited with unique, never before seen creatures.  Compared to your typical walk-through, I saw a greater number and diversity of species, and Bronx Zoo's breeding success with birds is extraordinary.

Some of these experiences could have perhaps been replicated in a walk-through aviary.  Many of them, I suspect, were unique to this management system.  For some species (and some visitor experiences), there's really nothing like a bird house.

Wounded Warriors of the Zoo

A zoo is generally as strong as its ties to its community.  In situations in which a facility is struggling and in poor shape, perhaps even on the cusp of closure, what generally will determine its fate is how much support there is for it in its community.  In many cases, faltering zoos have turned around - sometimes leaping from mediocrity to excellence - when their community has rallied behind them and political capital has been invested to turn things around.

The flip side of that is that building community goodwill and connections isn't something that that you can easily do from scratch when you're already in a bad place.  You need to have those relationships in place, fostering positive connections.  And a community isn't just one nebulous entity - it's made up of all sorts of communities - some defined by ethnicity, some by religion, some by profession, or hobby, or shared life experience.

Among those is the military - active duty, veterans, and families.

I once worked in a small town zoo, and I noticed two things.  One, we had a higher than I'd expected military presence in our town.  There wasn't really a base or fort nearby, but a pretty sizable percentage of our community served in the armed forces, and veterans groups were common.  We also had, I will admit, a pretty crummy bald eagle exhibit.  As with many bald eagle exhibits, it looked worse than it really was.  Many visitors who see bald eagles in zoos complain about the inability of the birds to really fly in them - not realizing that you could take the birds to the middle of the open wilderness, let them go, and they still wouldn't fly (or, if they happened upon a cliff, would fly... once).  

An idea that I cooked up but which, pun intended, never took flight, was getting some of the local veterans groups together to help build a new eagle aviary.  This one, however, would lean in the physical limitations of our birds.  It would ideally serve as a living monument to our local military community, many of whom came back from Iraq or Afghanistan wounded, but still full of life - just like the eagles.  It would be a happy reminder of their community and fellowship whenever they visited the zoo, something that they could point out and share with their families and friends.  It would reframe how visitors saw our eagles - not as broken things, but as resilient creatures that had been knocked around, but were still strong.  And, I hoped, it would forge yet another link between us and the our audience.

My Wounded Warriors Bald Eagle Aviary never came to pass at that zoo.  There's no reason that it couldn't somewhere else, however.

Water Under the Bridge?

Memorial Day weekend is, in many cases, kick off summer season for American zoos.  It might be when summer hours change, or seasonal exhibits open, or when seasonal staff begin work.  For zoos that are closed during the winter, most will already have been open for a month or so, if only as a soft opening before things really get busy.

Natural Bridge Zoo Reopens

This weekend also marks the reopening of Virginia's Natural Bridge Zoo.  Normally, the zoo would have opened more than a month ago, but it's... been going through some things.  After legal actions resulted in the zoo parting ways with many of their animals through confiscation and surrenders, the future of the facility was very much in doubt.  Apparently, it is reopening, albeit with fewer animals.  There's been discussion about renaming it, as other zoos have done to shake off scandal (including, ironically, one owned by the son of the Natural Bridge Zoo's owner - the Reston Zoo was rebranded as Roer's Zoofari, and then NovaWild, under successive new owners).  

There is also a new owner at Natural Bridge, but since the new owner has the same last name as the old owner, I'm not exactly convinced huge changes are on the horizon.

Gonna have to scratch a few faces off of that logo/facebook banner... and maybe change that slogan

Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen

Man, I know my parents had their hearts in the right place not wanting to spoil me growing up, but come on... even the lemurs get cars for their 16th birthdays?  Photos credit to the Tennessee Aquarium.  Happy Birthday Lyra and Avior!

Inanimate Attractions

Thinking about the Detroit Zoo's water tower, perhaps one of the most recognizable landmarks of the city, I got to thinking about which zoos had very special attractions apart from their living residents, both zoological and botanical.  Some noteworthy attractions I've seen from across the country over the years, some of which I was just as excited to see as the animals at those facilities themselves:

Cincinnati Zoo - Passenger Pigeon Memorial

Cincinnati Zoo has the unfortunate honor of having been home to the last known living specimens of not one but two now-extinct North American birds, the passenger pigeon and the Carolina parakeet (Carolina conure). In the 1970s, it appeared that construction of planned new ape habitats might result in the demolition of these enclosures, so the decision was made to set one of the old bird houses (built in the 1870s and styled as Japanese pagodas) aside as a memorial for these lost species. It's an iconic feature of the zoo and commemorates a tragic moment in zoo history; it begs the question of what might have been if a coordinated effort had been made to save these species. (Worth noting that the last passenger pigeon herself, Martha, is NOT here - her remains are at the National Museum of Natural History in Washington, DC) 

Cheyenne Mountain Zoo - Will Rogers Shrine of the Sun

There are some zoos which you could pick up, transplant five states over, and never notice the difference. There are others which are defined by their geography - perhaps their scenery, perhaps their terrain, perhaps both. I always appreciate it when a zoo is evocative of its geography. There are few better examples than Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, literally built on the slopes of a mountain. Overlooking the zoo is the Will Rogers Shrine of the Sun, a five-story stone tower that offers a commanding view not only of the zoo, but of the surrounding city and countryside, including the famous Garden of the Gods. Accessing this incredible view means driving through the zoo up a windy road (watch for deer), and is limited to those who have purchased admission to the zoo - some folks buy admission to the zoo solely or predominately for the shrine. Although the tower is named after Will Rogers, it's actually the tomb of Spencer Penrose (responsible for building much of Colorado Spring, including substantial development of the zoo) and his wife. Besides the majestic view, it also features a small but interesting art collection, as well as beautiful gardens.

Los Angeles Zoo - Old Griffith Park Zoo

To be pedantic, this isn't actually *in* the current LA Zoo, but is only a brief walk/drive away

As zoos modernize and develop, there is always the question of what to do with old exhibits. Some zoos renovate them, incorporating historic elements into new exhibits, such as the Bronx Zoo's Lion House being converted to Madagascar!, or St. Louis Zoo incorporating old rockwork into the expanded bear habitats. Some repurpose them into non-animal roles, such as the aforementioned Carnivora Café at Toledo Zoo. And some leave them in place as a reminder of the evolution of zoos. Many zoos across the country have one or two old cages set up as exhibit pieces, but few have something like the old Griffith Park Zoo in Los Angeles.

The old zoo, which opened in 1912, was abandoned with the new facility about 50 years later. All that remains are a few cages and some rockwork to give the impression of former enclosures. It's a very unique site - the closest thing I can think of to this is the old Crandon Park Zoo in Miami. It's a haunting place (which I would imagine would be spooky as heck at night), but a pleasant enough picnic spot during the day. I do feel like it could benefit from some interpretive signage. 

St. Augustine Alligator Farm and Zoo - Gomek Forever

There's always a challenge to figure out how to commemorate an iconic zoo animal that has passed way. Do you do a plaque? Or how about a statue, such as the one of gorilla Willie B at Zoo Atlanta? Maybe donate the body to a natural history museum, such as Bushman the Lincoln ParkZoo gorilla or Su Lin, the Brookfield Zoo giant panda, both at Chicago's Field Museum?

Perhaps the most interesting commemoration of a passed zoo animal that I can recall is "Gomek Forever," a shrine to St. Augustine Alligator Farm's legendary saltwater crocodile. In a pavilion overlooking the main gator swamp (and not far from the (live) saltwater crocodile habitat) is a shrine to the massive beast, who is preserved for the ages. The building tells the story of the crocodile's life, from his capture in New Guinea to his arrival at SAAF to his ultimate passing. The museum contains an impressive collection of New Guinea artifacts and artwork, including examples pertaining to crocodiles. 

Tulsa Zoo - Statue of Ganesha

I've always been very interested in the idea of presenting animals not only in their ecological context, alongside other animals and plants, but in their cultural context as well (a la Conway's bullfrog paper). While it's a rare zoo that goes all-in on this exhibit concept, some dabble with it, such as the Asian elephant exhibit at Tulsa Zoo, which incorporates a small museum on Asian elephants. Of this, one of the most noteworthy - and unexpectedly controversial - features was a six-foot tall granite statue of the Hindu god Ganesha, located outside Elephant Encounter.

This statue might not have drawn much criticism or controversy if it was in, say, Washington or Massachusetts, but this is Oklahoma. It led to complaints from some members of the public that the zoo was promoting Hinduism. This in turn led to a vocal segment of the community demanding an exhibit on Biblical creationism as a counterbalance (not only to this, but to evolution-themed exhibits elsewhere in the zoo). Such plans did not come to fruition, but the statue (which still stands today) serves as an excellent reminder of the challenges that zoo-based education can run into when it brushes up against politics, religion, and other hot-button social issues.

There is no mention on the signage of the statue about the controversy (after all, why poke the bear and risk starting the whole brouhaha over again?) but for those who know the story, it feels like a little victory to see it still in place. I know that it was one of the sights I was most interested in seeing during my recent trip to Tulsa.

All Along the Water Tower

 Besides the animals and exhibits, I always like to keep an eye out for the iconic non-animal features of zoos and aquariums - the artwork, the landmarks, etc.  There are few zoo features more iconic in the US than the Detroit Zoo's old water tower which has historically been decorated with animal logos.  The structure recently underwent a major redesign, featuring a new color scheme and new design:

And apparently, fans of the old tower can also keep a piece of the old structure near and dear to them - by buying a piece of jewelry made from the metal of the zoo icon.

Auks and Aviaries

 "An auk in flight is sheer delight, it soars above the sea,

An auk on land is not so grand - auks walk AUKwardly."

- Jack Prelutsky

Unlike the dinosaurs and their cohorts, or the prehistoric mega-mammals, we have memories - including photographs - of some recently-extinct species in zoos.  Their numbers include the thylacine, the quagga, and the pink-headed duck; both the last passenger pigeon and the last Carolina parakeet lived at the Cincinnati Zoo.  Not so the great auk, however.  Last of Its Kind makes reference to a Danish academic with an auk for a pet, even walked on a leash, but the species never seems to have been kept in zoos.  Its demise took place not that long after the establishment of the first real scientific zoos, such as the Jardin des Plantes in Paris and the London Zoo.

What would auks have been like in zoos?  Despite their superficial resemblance to penguins (these actually were the first birds to have the name "penguin" given to them), these were members of the Alcidae family, which houses the puffins and their kin.  The closest living relative of the great auk is believed to be the razorbill, a species I've seen only once or twice in zoos.  Puffins - of which there are three species - are considerably less common in zoos and aquariums than penguins, but are still not too uncommon.  Like penguins, the fact that they are colonial in nature means that a single zoo can house many breeding pairs of birds, so it doesn't take many facilities to build a sustainable population.

Puffins and their kin do pretty well in zoos and breed well.  Their diet and husbandry is well understood.  Would great auks have thrived in modern zoos?

Of course, one way that auks are closer to penguins than auklets, murres, and razorbills is that they cannot fly, Prelutsky's poem notwithstanding.  Unlike puffins (which with only a single exception I have seen in indoor enclosures), auks could conceivably have been kept outdoors.  In that case, they might have been just as popular of exhibit animals as penguins.  

The one potential problem I could see with auks is that many cold-weather birds (including the true southern penguins) are intolerant of the diseases of the temperate zoo.  That's why most of the outdoor penguin exhibits you see in zoos are African, Humboldt, or Magellanic penguins, the temperate-zone species, while kings, rockhoppers, etc are generally kept indoors.  The exact historic range of the auk is unknown - vagrants could be soon far south, but by the time the species was really being studied, it was limited to the last, most inaccessible remnants of its range.  Perhaps they would have been even better suited to outdoor exhibits than warm-water penguins.

Assuming caution and keeping them inside would be prudent, I'd say that an exhibit for a king penguin (about the same size, and also usually kept indoors) would work for great auks.  Next time I see an exhibit for this species, I'm going to try to imagine a different bird - the original penguin - in its place.

Book Review: The Last of Its Kind - The Search for the Great Auk and the Discovery of Extinction

These days, to talk about animals is, by and large, to talk about extinction, and how close said animal is to the edge of extinction.  Even outside of conservation, the word has very much become part of our shared lexicon, so much so that it's hard to believe that, historically speaking, it wasn't that long ago that the word didn't even exist.   The idea that a heavenly creator would allow one of his creations to disappear from the earth was unthinkable.  As a result, when Thomas Jefferson sent Lewis and Clark to the American West following the Louisiana Purchase, he had hopes that they'd bring him back tales of mastodons and ground sloth, creatures that Jefferson knew only from bones.

When biological extinction was finally understood as a concept, it was mostly in the context of deep time - animals like the dinosaurs, that died off long ago.  The thought that we, humans, could be responsible for the eradication of another species was unthinkable.  The world seemed so large, so unmapped, that even if you couldn't find any more of a species, the assumption was that there were always some just hiding in the next valley, on the next island, further out at sea, etc.  After all, how does one prove a negative?  The concept of rarity, however, was clearly understand - and the rarer a species was, the more desperately it was sought after by collectors

In 1858, British naturalists Alfred Newton and John Wolley set of for Iceland in search on perhaps the rarest bird known to the Victorian world, the great auk.  This giant flightless seabird, resembling the penguins but more closely related to the puffins, was highly sought after by scientists and collectors, and the naturalists were keen to obtain skins, eggs, and whole specimens for study, as well as the chance to observe the species in the wild.  In this, they were too late.  As their season in Iceland wore on, it eventually became clear to them that the auk was no more.  They came to suspect that the last individuals of this enigmatic seabird weren't in hiding or on some uncharted island - that they had ceased to exist, and that their demise was directly attributable to human hunting.

The Last of Its Kind - The Search for the Great Auk and the Discovery of Extinction, by Icelandic anthropologist Gísli Pálsson, is, essentially, a book about a book.  Unable to see living auks themselves, Newton and Wolley instead dedicated themselves to anthropological research, trying to learn as much as possible about the interplay of humans and auks in the northern seas and interviewing the hunters who had dispatched the last few birds.  They recorded their findings in The Gare-Fowl Books, which takes its name from the other common name of the species that was in use at the time.  The author tells the story of their time in Iceland and their meetings with local people.  Through the eyes of Newton and Wolley, we begin to see the shaping of the modern concept of human-caused extinction.

Perhaps the most fascinating single thought that came to me when I read this book was learning about how one of the naturalists was a correspondent of Charles Darwin.  Darwin would publish his On the Origin of Species at the same time that Wolley and Newton were sitting in Iceland, waiting idly for boats to take them to inspect distant rookeries that the auks once haunted, and he'd been cooking his theory for many years at this point.  It shocked me to realize that the Theory of Evolution was introduced to the world before the concept of human-caused extinction (and this centuries after the passing of the dodo, the poster-species for human-caused extinction).  

The former is still contentious for many people, especially those who oppose it on religious grounds.  The later is now an inescapable biological fact of our world.

Last of Its Kind - The Search for the Great Auk and the Discovery of Extinction at Amazon.com

                             

Slumber Party at the Zoo

As my group carried out our tour of The Wilds (I was mixed in with a general tour group, rather than for anything ostensibly work-related), our guide made sure more than once to mention the possibility of spending a night at the facility next time we were traveling through.  She took the time to point of some of the accommodations and to describe their varied amenities.  All of which got me wondering, of course, about spending the night at the zoo.

I've spent the night at more than one zoo, though hardly in glamping situations.  Sometimes it was to stay close by for a sick animal than needed treatment, or a youngster who needed feedings and was not able to be sent home with keepers.  One at least one occasion, I've crashed in the hospital of a zoo, spending the night there during an animal transport.  And, of course, I once lived in a zoo for a few months, which initially seemed like a great way to not have to pay rent, but at the same time proved to be a sneaky way for my boss to get me to double my workday, since I ended up doing so many other little jobs after hours, seeing a I was already there.

None of these were especially comfortable or enjoyable experiences.  But what if they were tailor-made to be fun and exciting?

A few years back, I did a post about a polar-themed hotel in China, complete with a polar bear exhibit (which seemed awful), as well as the overnight accommodations in Belgium's Pairi Daiza, which seems pretty awesome.  An evening zoo experience could be quite spectacular - evening tours around grounds to see animals when they're more active, maybe a dinner on a balcony overlooking the savannah, or in the midst of a walk-through rainforest, evening programs with animal ambassadors (many of which tend to be nocturnal species naturally), and going to sleep to the sounds of animals.  In the case of a very large zoo, such as San Diego, it might encourage visitors to stay longer.  It's an especially attractive idea for facilities which also offer other activities, such as The Wilds, what with the ropes course and horse-riding and what have you.

Of course, those experiences that do exist already do come with a bit of a price tag.  That's why, at least for now, all of the sleeping over that I'm doing in the zoo these days is happening during our monthly staff meetings.

Zoo Review: The Wilds

Sprawling across over 9,000 acres of former strip coal lands in eastern Ohio, The Wilds is one of the most remarkable conservation facilities in North America.  Ironically, what was once environmental wasteland has since become a haven for some of the most endangered species on the planet, as well as a thriving ecosystem for native Ohioan wildlife.  I suppose you could think of it as a northern, eastern cousin of the San Diego Zoo Safari Park, though stripped of much of the showmanship and panache (and a zoological collection much more focused on hoofstock).  Or, I suppose you could think of it in the vein of Florida's White Oak Conservation Center or the Smithsonian Conservation Biology Institute, though unlike those facilities, it is open to the general public.

Officially opening to the public in 1994, The Wilds, along with the previously mentioned facilities (among others), The Wilds is part of the Conservation Centers for Species Survival, a zoo initiative that seeks to bolster species sustainability (primarily of ungulates) by maintaining large breeding herds that can't be held in traditional zoo settings.  To that end The Wilds is very successful.  You won't see an enormous variety of species there, but you will see them in impressive numbers in spacious living conditions.  The results are some of the most spectacular memories I've had of some species under human care.

The walk-around portion of The Wilds is fairly small - the average visitor won't get too much exercise here.  There's a small building that displays hellbenders (one of the facility's native conservation projects), a small visitor center, and an overlook of some of the pastures.  To see most of the animals, you board an open-air safari bus, driven by a guide, and drive out among the animals.  The drive consists of a serious of pastures, with rolling green fields, steep hillsides, tall brush, and lakes and ponds.  Which animals are in which pastures may vary from time to time, as animals are moved for breeding access, parturition, and separation, and the enclosures are large enough that just because an animal is in a habitat, doesn't necessarily mean that you'll see it.  Nor are the enclosures arranged by geography, as the field exhibits at SDZSA are - you might see species from different continents intermingled.  

Rhinos - both white and Indian - and giraffes are the star attractions for many visitors, and are the largest animals present.  Also filling the pastures are an impressive assortment of deer, antelope, and equids, with something of a bias towards northern species which are better suited to the Ohio weather.  Among these are Bactrian camel, Bactrian deer, Pere David's deer, onager, and Przewalski's horses, as well as the largest (by far) herd of takin that I've ever seen, practically covering a hillside.  Which isn't to say that the more tropical species aren't also represented.  There are Grevy's zebras and a reasonable assemblage of African antelope to be seen as well.

Midway through the tour, the ride stops at the mid-sized carnivore complex, where visitors can get out and take a stroll alongside pens of cheetah, dhole, and African wild dog, seen either from ground level or from elevated boardwalks.  The habitats are enormous, spacious, and modestly-furnished, suited for cursorial species which benefit more from room to roam than mock rockwork and waterfalls.   After completing a self-guided loop, visitors are back in the vehicle to complete their transit of the park.

This is the casual visitor's experience, of course, because that's what I was.  The facility also offers ziplining, hiking, horseback riding, fishing, and glamping in a variety of settings, including yurts which overlook the vast pasture habitats.

Facilities such as The Wilds provide an excellent resource for zoos, allowing animals to live and breed in quarters and social structures that promote their welfare and reproduction.  One could think of these facilities as factories that generate animals not only for other zoos, but for potential reintroduction efforts in the future.  Indeed, an animal living in a situation like this probably already has a leg-up on animals from other facilities when it comes to being prepared for future release efforts.  Besides that, it's an excellent, encouraging reminder of the regenerative powers of nature, and how even the most desolate of landscapes can become a haven for wildlife, both free-living and under human care.  I saw countless (wild) bird species as I toured the facility, from bobolinks darting alongside the wheels of the safari car to bald eagles nesting in trees as rhinos grazed underneath.  Such sights would have been unimaginable a few decades ago.

A rhino and a cheetah adorn the logo for The Wilds - but they could just as easily have been replaced by a phoenix. 

The Wilds

The Faces Behind the Scenes

A few months back, I spent a month focusing on the many different professions other than those directly working with the animals that all contribute to the success of the zoo.  I recently read this article from the University of Southern Indiana that details the operations of the Mesker Park Zoo in Evansville - a mid-sized AZA facility.  It's a fun series of interviews that introduces many of the jobs of the zoo, including director, registrar, educator, and horticulturalist.  I wouldn't say that these job are secret per se, but it's true that they certainly aren't talked about a whole lot, especially with the general public - which is unfortunate.  All of them are essential, and it really does take a village to run a zoo.

Secrets at the Zoo

The Zoobender

I'll never hear about a proposal to relocate a zoo and *not* think of this scene from Avatar: The Last Airbender.  I suspect the folks at Sacramento Zoo could only wish it would be this easy...

 

On the Move

There are three major zoos in California's Bay Area.  San Francisco Zoo has the history.  Oakland Zoo is on the rise.  And Sacramento is... well, it's Sacramento.  For years, the zoo of California's state capital has chaffed at the limits imposed upon it by its borders and its infrastructure.  As is the case of many city zoos, it has steadily shed species over the years, acknowledging that its facilities don't adhere to current standards of animal care.

Sacramento Zoo will relocate to Elk Grove

All of that is about to change.  The city council of neighboring Elk Grove has voted, and the zoo has officially be cleared to move to a new location in that neighboring city.  They'll get the chance to do what so many zoos have longed to do - start fresh, from the ground up.   I know of several zoos which have, with varying degrees of seriousness, contemplated such a move before.  Few have actually followed through (Miami and Nashville being two examples, the later being one of the most recent).

It's an exciting opportunity to create animal habitats as they could ideally be, rather than try to build around what is already there, or engage in expensive, disruptive demolition.  Right now, I'm torn.  Do I hurry back to the Bay Area and try to see Sacramento's current zoo while it's still there?  Or wait a little bit, and let myself be surprised?

Single and Ready to Flamingle

As popular as they are as zoo animals, flamingos pose some significant challenges for zoo management.  The care of their feet, as noted in an earlier post, is definitely one.  Managing their diet, so that they maintain their expected pink coloration, is another.  And yet another is their reproduction.

With some birds, breeding is as simple as putting a male, a female, and suitable nesting materials together... and some will even forgo the nesting materials.  For flamingos, courtship and breeding are a community affair.  You can't get a pair of flamingos to breed in a zoo.  You also can't really get two pairs to do it either.  You need numbers - and the more flamingos you have in the flock, the more likely they are to breed.  A pair of flamingos, which is what many early zoo exhibits consisted of, won't experience the stimulation.  Shove flamingos together like chickens in battery cages and they'll be delighted.

There's a biological rationale for this.  Flamingos in the wild have very specific requirements for their nesting sites, and since there aren't so many of those sites around, they tend to get pretty crowded as birds cram into them.  If a flamingo pair is by itself and doesn't see other birds around, they may think there's something wrong or unsuitable with the site.  If the place is crowded with birds, then it must be a good place to breed, in their minds.  Besides, flamingo nesting grounds are popular haunts for various predators.  A lone flamingo pair has little chance of defending their eggs or chicks, so why bother even laying?  A flamingo in the middle of a vast flock has much better chances of safely raising young.

I've seen some pretty good-sized flocks of flamingos in zoos - some numbering near 100 birds - which is more than enough to encourage breeding, but nowhere near the size that flocks can get in the wild.  Zoos and aquariums looking to breed flamingos have resorted to various methods to encourage their birds to breed.  Some zoos can mix different flamingo species into one flock (I commonly see Chilean and American flamingos housed together) to give the numbers needed to make a bigger flock.  Some zoos will even surround their smaller flamingo flocks with mirrors, creating the illusion that the actual birds are standing in the middle of a flock that stretches to infinity.

Species Fact Profile: Lesser Flamingo (Phoenicoparrus minor)

                                                                  Lesser Flamingo

                                            Phoenicoparrus minor (G. Saint-Hilaire, 1879)

Range: Sub-Saharan Africa (and Yemen), with disjunct populations on coastal Madagascar.  A smaller population exists in South Asia (eastern Pakistan and western India).

Habitat:  Alkaline and Salt Lakes, Wetlands, Mudflats.  Prefer lakes with high levels of sodium and potassium salts, as well as calcium and magnesium ions

Diet:  Microscopic blue-green algae (such as Spirulina, Oscillatoria, and Lyngbya), Small Aquatic Invertebrates

Social Grouping: Flocks of up to 1,000,000 Birds

Reproduction:  Courtship behavior is initiated by males in ritualized group displays, which may occur year round but increase during the breeding season (typically October through February).  These consist of head and neck movements, walking forward in an erect posture, snapping their bills, vocalizing, and giving wing salutes.  Females may copulate with several males during a single breeding season. Single chalk-white/blue egg (rarely two) is laid in a conical-shaped, flat-topped mound built of mud, rising 15-20 centimeters out of the water.  Flamingos nest colonially, with nests typically 1-2 meters away from one another.  They may defend the area immediately around their nest from other flamingos.  Both parents incubate the egg for 28-31 days, taking turns going off to forage.  As the chick hatches, parents will call to it to help it imprint.  Chicks weigh about 50 grams at hatching.  Fledge at 70-90 (usually 75 days)

Lifespan: 25-30 Years (over 40 Years in Zoos)

      Conservation Status:  IUCN Near Threatened.  CITES Appendix II

• Smallest of the flamingo species.  90-125 centimeters tall (this includes the long neck – the typical standing height is 80-90 centimeters) with a wingspan of 1-1.1 meters.  Weight 1.5-2.7 kilograms, with males being heavier and taller than females.  The feet are fully webbed. 
• Both sexes look alike.  Plumage is pinkish-white, the result of photosynthetic pigments in the flamingos’ food, some darker markings on the back and wings.  Chicks are born with a gray natal coat (paler on the underside) that is replaced with a courser, browner coat at about two weeks of age.  Eyes are gold with a purple ring around them.  The legs are red
• The curved black bill (with dark red towards the tip) is specialized for filtering algae near the surface of the water and is outfitted with up to 10,000 microscopic lamellae
• Although found across a very broad range, the species primarily breeds in the Rift Valley lakes of East Africa (Ethiopia, Kenya, and Tanzania), with smaller breeding congregations in West Africa, South Africa, and South Asia.  The species has a network of potential breeding sites throughout its range and responds to environmental stressors by shifting from one to another
• Vagrants may be found as far to the northwest as Morocco and Spain; vagrants from the Asian population may be found as far west as Iran and the Arabian Peninsula.
• Migrates from feeding grounds to inland breeding colonies where it gathers in the thousands upon thousands, often in association with the greater flamingo (Phoenicopterus roseus).  The timing of the breeding season depends upon the rains (flooding is necessary to isolate the breeding site from terrestrial predators, as well as to provide mud for nesting); sometimes years may pass without a population being able to breed.  
•  Upon fledging, chicks join crèches, which may number over 100,000 individuals.  These crèches are supervised by a few adult birds who will guide them to freshwater, a trek (on foot) that may reach over 30 kilometers.  Once they are old enough to fly, they will follow adults to the feeding grounds.  
• In rough water, they have been reported to congregate and form dense feeding flocks, which encircle a small body of water and help to calm it, facilitating feeding for birds at the center
• Several predators, including canids and felids, hyenas, honey badgers, baboons, marabou stork, and African fish eagle.  Chicks and eggs may be also preyed up by vultures
• Chicks may face additional mortality from the development of balls or rings of crystallized soda around their ankles, which may become heavy enough to weigh them down and drown them
• Still the most abundant of the world’s flamingo species with an estimated population of 2.2-3.3 million birds, of which approximately 650,000 are in the Asian population and the majority in the Rift Valley.  However, the population can be difficult to monitor due to the large-scale movements of the birds, capable of traveling over 450 kilometers in a single day.  Some migration has been observed between Africa and Asia
• Breeding sites are threatened by development, such as soda-ash mining (especially at Lake Natron, the most important breeding site) and proposed hydroelectric development.   These sites may be contaminated by heavy-metal poisoning, killing birds.  Some breeding sites have been lost
• Introduction of invasive brine shrimp can decrease the availability of algae the flamingos feed on
• Other threats include water pollution and collision with electrical lines
• Earliest records in North American zoos are from the late 1950s, the first successful captive reproduction did not occur until 1989 at SeaWorld San Diego
• Minimum flock size recommended for zoo populations is 20 birds; sometimes housed mixed with other flamingo species to form larger flocks for better breeding success 

Look Good, Be Good?

Reading yesterday's editorial about flamingo welfare, there was one line that stuck out in my mind.  "Flamingos do not live on lawns outside of children's books."  

I've seen greater and lesser flamingos in the wild, albeit from a distance, in Lake Manyara in Tanzania.  They appeared mostly as a shimmering pink haze in the distance on the edge of a muddy, rather foul smelling lake.  And looking at pictures of flamingos in the wild, Manyara actually looks like one of the lusher places they inhabit.  From the salt pans of the Great Rift Valley to the high altitude grasslands of the Andes, flamingos often seek out the harshest, least pleasant places to live in order to raise their young in peace.  Despite their association with the tropics, these are not birds that are going to putter around on a touristy beach under the palm trees, or stroll across the grassy lawns past the cocktail bar, like the equatorial version of Canada geese.  And yet that is the image that we seem hellbent on recreating in zoos.

Why?  Because in these cases we aren't recreating the animals' habitat as it exists.  We're recreating what the visitor thinks the habitat looks like.  And in this case, that's incorrect.

It seems kind of silly to me now, but it was an epiphany when I realized this - that there can be a major difference between what we think of as natural and what really is.  In some cases, what actually is best for the animal might, to a visitor, appear inappropriate.  Flamingos on a grassy lawn ambling around a shallow pond probably looks a lot more appealing that flamingos on mud.  It probably would smell better, too.  I could easily imagine visitors, comparing the two habitats, leaving with the impression that the birds in the grassy habitat were happier and better cared for, while those in the muddy yard were dirtier, sadder, and perhaps less healthy... you know, because of the dirt.  I know for certain, however, which yard the flamingos would opt to be in.

I was reminded of this again the other day when I visited a zoo in which a pair of macaws were perched in front of a lush green backdrop - one which they had no access to.  Their flight feathers were clipped and they were largely confined to their perches, called "parrots on sticks" within the field.  Visitors expressed admiration that the birds were "free" (for so they seemed to be, not being in a visible cage), even though they had less room to roam and less opportunity to express natural behavior than a macaw in a reasonably-sized enclosure would have had.   Or perhaps it's the mentality that causes some facilities to put solitary or incompatible individuals together so people don't feel sad that the animals don't have "friends."

One of the most important things I've learned about animal welfare over the years is that sometimes there's a difference between what looks good and what is good.  When there is, always chose the later.  I'd rather have to explain an ugly enclosure than explain poor animal care practices.

The Pink of Health - Rethinking Flamingo Welfare

Our definition of animal welfare has evolved over the years.  It used to be taken for granted that, if an animal can be kept alive, in reasonably good health, and ideally breeding, the welfare must be ok.  In recent years, however, our standards have risen, and we continue to re-evaluate these standards.  Surviving isn't good enough - an animal can be kept alive for much longer than its natural lifespan even in suboptimal conditions.  The goal should be thriving.

We Don't Talk About Flamingos: Why Do Flamingos in Human Care Remain Such a Challenge?

I really enjoyed this article I cam across by Christopher Benjamin Kent, examining the welfare of one of the most common groups of birds in zoos.  Flamingos are a group of birds that, historically, we all seemed to think did just fine... with a few caveats.  One of those was that they were prone to foot issues, but the prevailing lore was that bumblefoot was just something one had to accept as a fact of life in caring for these birds, one to be treated as needed but largely inescapable.  Kent calls that into question, inviting the reader to consider how the natural history of these birds is at odds with their usual exhibit design, and how that leads to foot issues which can compromise their health and welfare.

Flamingos are a great case study, because they're a group of birds so widely held in zoos around the world.  It makes one consider what other welfare problems have been out there for far too long which we've all taken for granted that we just have to deal with... but which could, with some critical thinking and fresh insight, be addressed.

Rarities on the Rise

Until 1971, the Chacoan peccary was considered an extinct species, known to the outside world only as a fossil.  Before 1996, none were to be found in North American zoos.  Today, they are a reasonably common species in American and European zoos.  I've seen them at about a dozen US zoos, most recently just a month ago.  From "not known to still be alive" to "fairly common zoo animal" in the space of a little more than 50 years.  Not too bad of a turnaround, really.  I know see this species more often than I see the once-ubiquitous collared peccary, which is native to the US.

Zoo enthusiasts have a tendency to grouse about how the diversity of species in zoos is going down.  And yes, it largely is.  It's somewhat disappointing that we can't see as many animals as we used to, but it really is, for the most part, probably for the best in many cases.  A lot of those species that we used to see were never really common themselves, only held in a tiny number of facilities, perhaps imported from the wild, and a lot of the living conditions left a fair bit to be desired.  Now, we see more emphasis on larger enclosures, larger social groups, and more sustainable populations.  Other species seem to have fallen out of favor, for one reason or another..  Macaques, for example, are shunned by many zoos due to fear of herpes viruses, while some zoos got out of exotic venomous snakes due to the expense of antivenin.

It's worth noting, however, that sometime it works the other way.  There are species that were extremely rare in zoos when I was young that are now very common.  Komodo dragons were once the ultimate rarity, found only at a single US zoo.  Then it became three zoos.  Now, I feel like I see them in the majority of AZA facilities I go to... and even in a few non-AZA.  When I saw my first fossa at the Dallas Zoo in 2008, I almost swooned I was so excited.  I took a lot of really bad photos but didn't care, because I was convinced I'd never see one again and I needed to have proof to myself that I hadn't dreamed it.  Now, they too are fairly common.

Panamanian golden frogs didn't occur in zoos at all until the early 2000s, and now are among the most popular of zoo amphibian species (within AZA only).  Titicaca frogs, a species that I'd once thought of as something impossible to keep and that I'd never see, are catching up with them rapidly.  I saw the only California condors on public display at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park in 2000; I've been to five zoos with that species since COVID.  

Yes, the trend has largely been in the opposite direction, and there are some taxa which have been hit harder than others.  Even some big name, extremely popular species have been in decline.  Despite being what feels like a professional zoo-goer some of the time, visiting dozens of a facilities a year, I didn't see a polar bear last year until October.  Still, it's nice to realize that, even as we lose some species in our facilities, we still occasionally gain new ones, even ones that would have seemed very unlikely not too long ago.  I wonder sometimes what surprises we will get in the future.