The Wisdom of Small Things

 "There really is a way to hold a broom and dustpan that allows you to collect all of the dirt on a floor.  There is a way to rinse a mop to get rid of the dirt it has already absorbed, so that you don't simply spread it back on the floor with each successive sweep.  There is a method for unpacking live frogs from a cardboard shipping box so that they can't leap out en masse in every direction as soon as you lift the first flap.  There is also a way to open a cage door behind which lurks a dangerously venomous snake or, at beast, a flighty lizard looking for escape.  I needed to learn it all."

- You Belong in a Zoo, Peter Brazaitis

As a volunteer working at my local zoo as a kid - and later as a fledgling zookeeper out of college - I knew that I had a lot to learn.  At my first keeper job, I took home books from our zoo library (because that's how old school we were back then) to read up about the animals.  I pestered senior staff to show me their secret techniques.  I kept voluminous notebooks with my scribbles.  

What I didn't realize was how much of my learning was going to come down to basic life hacks - both those that had applications for home life, and those that just made the job easier.

As an example, one of my main jobs used to be to change out all of the water bowls in our reptile house.  That was no small task, as we had over fifty exhibits.  Each bowl I had to grab, empty into the floor drains, scrub out, refill at the sink, and then carry back.  The problem was that the reptile house back corridor was thin and treacherous, with hoses and bricks and other debris everywhere, and I was constantly spilling water.  Each bowl was half empty by the time I had it back in its enclosure.  Eventually, I learned to clean the bowls, then put them back in the exhibit empty and dry.  Then, I'd fill them up with a pitcher of water I'd filled at the sink.  I could fill each bowl all the way up, and not spill water all over the floor of the back corridor, which was generally slippery enough already.  

It was the little life hacks like that, more than any arcane knowledge of animals, which really made me start to feel like a professional zookeeper.  Like how to most effectively chop vegetables up for the big sink salad we made every day to feed all of our plant-eating lizards and tortoises, or that a squeegee works better when you drag water towards you than push it away.  Learning these techniques enabled me to do my job faster and better, freeing up more time for the more enjoyable jobs.  Some of these skills also have at-home application.  To this day, chopping vegetables for dinner is my job, and I don't mind it.  It takes me no time at all.