Disassembling a Zoo

Earlier this week, authorities in Oregon raided and shut down the West Coast Game Park Safari.  Searching the premise, drugs, guns, and over $1.5 million in cash were found, along with a dead tiger in a freezer.  A small number of animals were euthanized due to their poor condition, while the remainder were dispersed to other zoos and sanctuaries.

This is not even the first time this has happened this year.  Earlier, zoos and aquariums in Minnesota were called upon to rehome animals from a shuttered SeaQuest aquarium, ranging from porcupines to eels.  About a year and a half ago, a large percentage of the animals at the Natural Bridge Zoo were confiscated by authorities, again rehomed at zoos across the region.  Unlike West Coast Game Park Safari, which is shut down for good, Natural Bridge is still contentiously trooping along and fighting with the authorities, even as their remaining giraffes were confiscated and transported away earlier this month.

There are few situations that are more stressful than when a zoo, aquarium, or sanctuary is shut down.  It's one thing if the situation is planned - animal populations can gradually be phased down, homes carefully lined up so that each animal ends up in the optimal situation.  But a large scale, sudden confiscation or shut down, that results in many animals of different species needing to be rehomed quickly, when you have little to no information about them, their medical history, their social history?  That's a disaster - and it's one that, inevitably, falls hardest on the neighboring zoos and aquariums.  Your local animal control office might be able to handle some dogs, cats, rabbits, etc - maybe some of the more common exotic small pets, but big cats and primates?  No thank you.

I've had to work with animals confiscated from other facilities in the past, and it can be heartbreaking.  It is expensive (even with reimbursements from the authorities), stressful, and (as many of the animals come to you in poor condition and may need to be euthanized), often tragic.  Which isn't to say that it can't be rewarding when you see marked improvements in some of the animals.   Animals are often scared, confused, and you know so little about them; typically when we receive animals from other zoos, there's lots of collaboration and sharing of information, pre-shipment medical testing, and transportation that is planned to be as smooth and stress-free as possible.  Here, you're rushing in blind - and it's not uncommon for the "donating" facility to be hostile, sometimes dangerously so.

As someone who loves zoos and aquariums - GOOD zoos and aquariums - it always makes me happy to see another bad facility go away so they stop sullying the name of our field.  Still, it would be nice is when they do go down, it would be as a controlled demolition - not a 4 alarm fire.

Opportunities for Animals

I recently came across a very cool zoo video on line when scrolling facebook - I couldn't link the video itself, so I just took a screenshot (video is linked here).  It features a two-toed sloth, a fairly common animal in zoos, engaging in a behavior that few zoo visitors will have seen - taking a swim at Ouwehands Dierenpark Rhenen (Netherlands).   The sloth is paddling across the surface of a large pool, while giant fish cruise underneath.  A lot of folks don't realize, but as helpless as they are on the ground, sloths are actually quite good at swimming.

If I was designing a sloth exhibit from scratch, and by that I mean an exhibit just for sloths, not a large rainforest building with all sorts of species, in which sloths happen to live, I can't say that it would have occurred to me to add a big pool.  Lots of climbing opportunities, sure, but swimming opportunities?  Even though I know sloths can swim, it would have probably slipped my mind.  Which is a mistake.

When we build enclosures for animals, we build their world, and in some cases, pre-set their behavior.  What they do is what we give them the opportunity to do.  If this exhibit had consisted of a single tree in the middle of a deep pool, we'd probably see the sloth swimming all the time - because what else would it do?  I'm reminded of a story that Colin Tudge recorded in his Last Animals at the Zoo of a Scottish zoo that allowed a polar bear into the brown bear exhibit.  The polar bear did many behaviors that we'd more likely associate with other bear species - including climbing a tree.

It's important to understand the full repertoire of an animal's natural behaviors, and to give the opportunity for the animal to engage in as many of those behaviors as is safely and practically possible.  Doing so allows the animal to have as natural of a life as possible, optimal welfare, provides a more interesting and educational experience for zoo visitors, and helps preserve behavior which could be essential for future reintroduction programs.

The Boys (and Girls) of Summer

With yesterday being Memorial Day, the summer season has kicked off.  That means that we trade the crush of the school groups for the crush of the summer crowds, and things are starting to get pretty busy.  Fortunately, at many facilities, help is on the way.

Like the barn swallows that, after months of absence, are again whirling across the zoo, the summer brings with it the summer interns and other seasonal help.  True, there's usually an intern or two during the rest of the year, but this is when they come out in force, when we need them the most.  Some of them are here to get credit for college internships.  Others are here because they want to get a leg-up in looking for a job in the zoo field.  Others are just doing it because it looked like a fun way to spend the summer.  Whatever the reason, we're genuinely (usually) glad that they're here.

Summer help is an investment.  In the beginning of the season, they can be major time sponges.  Understandably, they need to be shown how to do everything.  Things that we take as second nature and assume are very obvious need to be spelled out, sometimes demonstrated several times, and, as someone who has been on both sides of the intern-keeper divide, not all keepers are equally good at explaining/teaching students how to do things.  Things we assume are obvious because we've done them 1000 times might not be to a student trainee.  Still, by the end of the summer, most of these interns are running like well-oiled machines, and there are days when I honestly don't know how we would have gotten by without them.

It's worth noting, though, that the summer helpers aren't meant to be just labor to bolster our ranks.  They're supposed to be getting things out the summer too, usually some combination of knowledge, professional development, and positive experiences.  I try to make sure that, no matter how much grungy, menial tasks the interns would have on a given day - cleaning this pool, fixing this fence - there was also some sort of special memory or lesson that they'd get from the day.  Maybe it's a new technique I'd show, like how to candle an egg or determine the sex of an alligator.  Maybe it's a cool encounter with an animal - "Okay, we're going to churn up the mud wallow for the rhino exhibit - but first, let's go into the barn and meet the rhinos."  These are the moments which serve as the reward for a hard day's work.

Of course, there should also be other rewards as well.  I've done my share of unpaid internships in the past, but I've increasingly come to believe that interns should be paid, if only modestly.  This not only helps make internships more accessible to students who might not have the luxury of being able to afford an unpaid summer of work, but it also helps set expectations.  Some of the worst interns I've ever had in the past were able to coast by because they weren't getting paid - it let them feel that they had no obligation to us, and management wouldn't get rid of them because they weren't costing us anything.

When you work, you should be paid.  Simple as that.

Species Fact Profile: Venezuelan Troupial (Icterus icterus)

                                                       Venezuelan Troupial

                                               Icterus icterus (Linnaeus, 1766)

Range: Northern South America (ranged centered on Venezuela, but also includes northern Colombia, as well as some islands of the Caribbean, (i.e. Trinidad and Tobago, Aruba, Curacao).  Has been introduced to Puerto Rico, St. Thomas, and the US Virgin Islands

Habitat: Dry Woodland, Open Savannah, Scrub Forest, from sea level up to 500 meters elevation.  Found in plantations, gardens

Diet: Fruit (especially giant cacti), Insects, Eggs and Nestlings

Social Grouping: Pairs, Small Flocks

Reproduction: Monogamous, pairs staying together throughout the year.  Males sing to establish territories, vigorously defended from other birds.  Breed from March through September (year-round in the Caribbean.  Clutch of 3-4 eggs (whitish or pinkish with dark spots towards the bottom) incubated for 2 weeks.  Chicks fledge at 21-23 days.  Both parents care for chicks. 

Lifespan: 10-15 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern

• Adult body length 22.5 centimeters.  Weight 56-82 grams.  Males often larger than females, but can’t reliably be sexed by size.  Wedge-shaped tail, chisel-like beak
• Sexes alike.  The head and tail are black, as are the wings, except for a white streak (runs the edge of the wing when the wing is closed) and orange epaulet on each wing.  The breast and back are bright orange.  Feathers on the neck and upper breast stick outward, making an uneven boundary between the black and orange sections.  When singing, the hackles of the throat stand out even further, giving a distinctive appearance.  The eyes are yellow, surrounded by a bare patch of blue skin.  Juveniles resemble adults, but are somewhat duller 
• Will visit suburban bird feeders.  Will also visit plantations, sometimes becoming an agricultural pest
• Obligate nest parasites, either using empty nests or driving other birds from their nests (especially common thornbird and great kiskadee, but also caciques, oropendolas), sometimes violently.  Some stolen nests are used for raising young, others for sleeping/roosting.  Upon ousting the previous occupants, they may eat the eggs or nestlings that are left behind. 
• Common name comes from the French troupiale for “troop,” probably because these birds live in flocks.  The Latin name come from the Greek ikteros for “jaundice” due to the ancient belief that the sight of some yellow birds (probably the Eurasian golden oriole) could treat jaundice
• Once just called the troupial, this bird is often now referred to as the Venezuelan troupial, reflecting the recent break up on Icterus icterus as a superspecies of three closely related species (other two being I. jamaicaii and I. croconotus).  This species in turn has three subspecies – the nominate, I. i. ridgwayi, and I. i. metae, varying slightly in size and coloration
• The National Bird of Venezuela, depicted on the 500 Bolivar Soberano note
• Excellent singing bird (sometimes called the “bugle bird”), popularly kept as a cage bird.  Pairs sing duets, and are capable of mimicking the songs of other birds

Eating Crow

It’s something I’ve noticed repeatedly on the years, that often an animal that has zero appeal to the public manages to become a zookeeper favorite. Sometimes, something near to the opposite also happens – an animal that the zookeeper would expect the public to have no interest in will, unexpectedly, become the crowd’s favorite.

I’m specifically thinking of a certain American crow. He had the distinction of being the only passerine (perching bird) I have ever worked with (not even a zebra finch or canary for me), illegally taken from the nest by a member of the public and raised, before being turned over to the zoo. Given his origins, it made sense to start him off as an education bird and he was initially housed in the mews, but never responded to training and handling. Dissatisfied with the housing situation for him, I eventually suggested that we make him an exhibit bird, and we moved him into our beaver exhibit, alongside some ducks, turtles, and herons.

That’s when the crow found stardom, and his personality really shone. When we were in the exhibit with him, he was still wary, seldom letting us approach close. With visitors on the outside of the exhibit, he became extremely personable.

The beaver exhibit had a fake lodge built into it with a window, so visitors could peak inside and see the beavers. The crow liked to sit on top of the lodge, where he could be right next to visitors with just mesh between them – the lack of an additional barrier at the one spot had never been a problem before. There, he would talk to visitors, sometimes even croaking a rough “Hello.” (He was probably a more reliable talker than any of our parrots). They would, inevitably, stick fingers in, which he would gently nibble, and they would scratch him on the back of the head. We probably should have put up another barrier, some finer mesh over that spot, sooner, but I think we were all so dumbfounded. Besides, we might have been worried that the visitors would riot. That crow quickly became the most popular animal in the zoo.

It's just as well, probably, that he accepted so many snack items from the public, no matter how much we begged for people not to feed him, because the crow never seemed to eat his actual diet.

An enormous number of visitors refused to believe that the crow was an actual zoo animal, instead assuming that he was a wild bird that had gotten in. Once a week, I’d have someone run up to me in a panic to let me know that a crow had gotten into the beaver exhibit. Yes, starlings, cardinals, finches, etc frequently flew into zoo exhibits (and, in some cases, they didn’t fly out) – but a hole big enough to admit the crow would have allowed the ducks and probably herons to get out too. Once or twice I even had visitors who seemed almost offended by the bird’s presence – what kind of zoo puts a crow on display? For the most part, people loved that bird, and he was easily the bird in the collection for which the most visitors knew his name.

Otter in a Sock

The world often seems like an increasingly dark, dismal, stressful place - so if you just need to look at this baby otter in a sock for a few minutes and revel in the cuteness, that's totally fine...

Just remember that you can't, in good conscience, enjoy cute animal photos and then support the politics of depriving these animals of protections needed to survive in the wild.  It also helps if you support the zoos and aquariums that provide homes for these animals when they can't be returned to the wild.

Priorities in a Partner

 

First, Do No Harm

"What harms the planet, harms us all" - Dr. Megan Ross.

This weekend, a letter appeared in the Chicago Tribune, decrying attempts to modify the enforcement of the Endangered Species Act in a way that would greatly weaken protections for many plants and animals.  Several such letters have appeared lately, but what made this one special to me was the authors.  It was penned by Dr. Megan Ross, CEO of the Lincoln Park Zoo, in partnership with the leadership of the Brookfield Zoo, Shedd Aquarium, Morton Arboretum, and Chicago Botanic Garden.

Changes to the Endangered Species Act clear a path for species to go extinct.

Historically, zoos, aquariums, museums, and botanic gardens have been loathe to get too outright political for fear of alienating not only government authorities, whose support they rely on, but on visitors, half of which, roughly, belong to each party.  From climate change to the theoretical impact on borderlands wildlife of building a wall, this has made it difficult to speak out on some subjects; if basketball players speaking out against racial injustice are told to "shut up and dribble," zookeepers are told to "shut up and shovel."  In an age where everything is increasingly viewed through a political lens - are you MAGA or woke? - it's been an increasingly hard to take a stand without the risk of upsetting people.

But, in face of ongoing threats to the protections of endangered species, silence isn't an option.  Zoos and aquariums will have to decide if they want to be neutral or if they want to be effective voices for wildlife and wild places - and I'm pleased to see that an increasing number are choosing to be on the right side of history.

Zoo Review: Bird Kingdom

Today, a review of truly one of the stranger zoological facilities that I've visited, Bird Kingdom.  

Located just across the border in Niagara Falls, Ontario (literally, you can see it from the American side of the falls), this attractions houses the world's largest free-flight indoor aviary.  Though the bird attraction itself is relatively recent (opening in June 2003), the site itself has been a tourist destination for over 100 years.  Built as a corset factory in the early 1900s, it was then converted a museum that, for a time, held the mummy of the Egyptian pharaoh Ramesses I (later repatriated to Egypt).  So, I'm not saying that the place is haunted, but...

Remnants of the old Niagara Falls Museum are still present, and included in the price of admission.  Also included is one of the facility's more picturesque attractions, a Javanese house from the 1800s, built of teak and constructed without any nails, which visitors can explore from inside and out.  The Javanese house is part of the main aviary, which brings us back to the animal attractions.

The main aviary is entered through a series of double doors, starting at the level of the canopy and meandering down to the forest floor, at the base of a towering waterfall.  There are about 40 species of birds represented in here, selected from across the tropical regions of Africa, Latin America, Australia, and Southeast Asia.  It's funny, but even before stepping foot inside, I was able to guess the identities of most of the species present - there seems to be a handful of bird species which just work very well in exhibits like these, and are the go-to "filler" species of many walk-through aviaries.  Included in their ranks are the scarlet ibis, pied imperial pigeon, superb starling, speckled pigeon, and great argus.  There are a few smaller aviaries set alongside the path with birds that don't tend to play as nice in mixed, walk-through aviaries, such as the larger parrots.  The exhibit space is semi-themed with the story of an explorer who's been searching for a lost valley populated only by birds, but it only seems to be brought up on occasion, and doesn't really add or subtract to the experience.

Tucked away in a corner of the main aviary (near the Javanese house, as a matter of fact), is a separate aviary in which visitors can feed rainbow lorikeets.

Besides the main aviary, there is a second, smaller walk-through aviary called the Small Bird Aviary, home to about twenty species of small birds, mostly passerines, but some doves and little parrots as well, all flying around a small central pond of turtles.  This indoor aviary is lit partially by windows from the outside, which provide a nice view of the Niagara River Gorge.  Other animal attractions include a discovery room, with a series of small bird cages (some of them essentially pet store caging), mostly with parrots and toucans, as well as some reptiles, and a small nocturnal gallery, where you'd reasonably expect to find owls, but don't.  Instead, there are skunks, poison dart frogs, and Egyptian fruit bats, among other species.

Bird Kingdom wasn't terribly to my taste - I found it a little cheesy, a little confusing (I somehow managed to miss some of the rooms on my first pass through, and had to double back), and not of special interest.  I've been much more impressed with other aviaries that I've been to, such as the spectacular Wings of Asia at Zoo Miami, or with bird collections that had higher quality habitats for smaller exhibits, such as World of Birds at the Bronx Zoo.  I couldn't compare it that favorably to, say, the National Aviary in Pittsburgh, even if the main aviary was much larger.

That being said, I'm cranky and jaded and have been to a lot of zoos and seen a lot of aviaries.  I can see how this place might have a very magical appeal for folks who have never seen anything like this, and it could be especially enchanting for children - provided they aren't afraid of birds, of course.  Or the vengeful ghosts of mummies.

Bird Kingdom

Zoo Review: Ripley Waterfowl Conservancy

This month, we'll be doing to short reviews of two bird-focused facilities.  We'll be starting with one that I'd long wanted to visit, and finally just had the chance.  Tucked away in Litchfield, Connecticut - about halfway between New York and Boston - is one the largest and most significant waterfowl collections in the country.  

               

Dr. S. Dillon Ripley served as the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, having a tenure that was responsible for the tremendous growth and rejuvenation of the once-staid museum complex.  One of his greatest passions, however, was always birds, and waterfowl in particular.  Even as a teenage in Litchfield in the 1920s, Ripley began amassing a collection of ducks, geese, and swans.  He would go on to have tremendous breeding success with many species, including the first North American breedings of the nene, red-breasted goose, and Laysan teal.

Ripley's legacy lives on in the facility that now sits on his family's land, seasonally open to the public.  Well, part of it, anyway - about one-tenth of the Conservancy is open as a bird garden, with aviaries, pheasantries, and ponds.  The rest is managed as wildlife habitat, providing valuable resting space for migrating birds that are making their way down the Eastern Seaboard.

Ripley isn't a very large facility, and it doesn't take too long for a casual visitor to walk through.  It is a very pleasant place, though, with spacious, well-furnished aviaries - some walk-through, others walk-by - and I've long maintained that waterfowl are some of the best birds to just sit and watch.  Unlike passerines (certainly unlike hummingbirds), they tend to let you admire their beauty and their behavior in an unhurried manner, going about their business, feeding and courting and bickering.  Waterfowl are definitely the specialty of the house here, with the focus largely being on the more cold-tolerant species, including many of the sea ducks, which often are not well-represented in conventional zoos (though the tropical species are not entirely neglected here).  Most of the waterfowl are in aviaries, with the swans - of which five species are maintained - kept on large, open pond.

Waterfowl are the focus, but not at the complete exclusion of other birds.  Wading birds are interspersed with the waterfowl.  At the time of my visit, there was a newly-opened pheasantry, a simple but elegant corridor leading through aviaries of different species, from the very commonly-kept golden and Lady Amherst pheasants to the nearly-extinct Vietnam pheasant.  There are several species of cranes (including Siberians, a species I rarely see) and a smattering of passerines.  

Compared to Sylvan Heights, the other public waterfowl-specialist facility in the country, the selection here is much more limited and the collection smaller, but the quality of the exhibits, the interesting collection, and the historical significance of the place make Ripley Waterfowl Conservancy a must-see for bird enthusiasts... or even just casual admirers.

Ripley Waterfowl Conservancy

River Dolphins

If there is one group of mammals that I've wanted to see more than any other, but haven't seen yet, it would be the river dolphins.  Usually when I think this, I think of the boto, the pink river dolphin of the Amazon, but I would have been just as happy to see a baiji, or an Indus river dolphin (I'm actually a little curious now that there are no African river dolphins, just as there are no Asian river manatees).  There is just something so unique and strange about these freshwater marine mammals, with their pterosaur-like faces, their wing-like flippers, and their cryptic natures.

Much of what we know about the baiji comes from studies of Qiqi, a captive specimen in China that was intended to be the start of a breeding program that never came to be.  This was believed to be the last of the baiji; the last one that has been confirmed, at least.  Amazon river dolphins have a longer history in zoos, though there is only one left in captivity worldwide now, in Peru.  In the US, several facilities have had the species at one time or another, from the Aquarium of Niagara to the Fort Worth Zoo to the California Academy of Sciences.  The last US specimen was Chuckles at the Pittsburgh Zoo and Aquarium.  I kick myself every time that I see the date of his death, knowing that I could have possibly gone and seen him.  At that young age, the thought of making a pilgrimage to see a rare animal had never occurred to me.

Qiqi, at Institute of Hydrobiology, Chinese Academy of Sciences

River dolphins had a reputation of doing poorly in zoos and aquariums, though it seems like this is, as typical of many species, a question of trial and error.  Perhaps we're just more attuned to these issues with marine mammals, but it's not like our track record with keeping marine dolphins has been entirely smooth sailing.  We gradually had learned a lot more about keeping river dolphins healthy in zoos and aquariums; for example, learning that, unlike marine dolphins, they do better in relatively shallow tanks, so they can pop up to the surface to breathe more easily.  Some dolphins were living long lives in good health.  As with many species that we no longer keep in zoos and aquariums, I suspect that we could do much better if we were to try again.

Such as attempt almost came in the early 2000s.  Dallas World Aquarium, itself no stranger to importing bizarre and rarely-kept species, had petitioned the government for approval to import some river dolphins.  These efforts were thwarted, in large part due to backlash from activists.  That exhibit now holds manatees.  One facility wouldn't have moved the needle that much as far as keeping river dolphins in captivity, but it would have served as a demonstration that they could be kept and kept successfully.

Why would this be important?  The baiji is the first river dolphin that we've lost, but it might be the last, and a limited freshwater ecosystem is a challenge to protect, as we learned in the Yangtze.  If the time comes that we need to bring other river dolphins under human care as part of a last-ditch effort to save a species, it would be good to have at least a little more experience.

Book Review: Witness to Extinction - How We Failed to Save the Yangtze River Dolphin

 "Species cannot be expected to save themselves, and intervention may need to be swift and decisive.,  But instead of positive intervention on behalf of critically endangered species, I found to my disgust that the world of international conservation seemed at times to consist only of press releases and empty promises; worst of all, it was a world without accountability.  I realize now that by the time I became involved, it was probably already too late to do anything for the baiji."

In recent weeks, the actions of the Trump Administration (specifically the roll-back of laws and official protections) have caused many conservation-minded Americans to voice deep concerns about the plight of endangered species, both in America and around the world.  Too often, I've seen people dismiss these concerns as alarmist.  I think I understand why.  Many of the species that we are concerned about have been endangered for so long that it seems like a permanent status quo; when I was a kid, the books all made it sound like elephants would be extinct by 2000, and they're still with us in 2025.  Extinction may be forever, as the slogan tells us, but in many cases it also feels impossible.

So it's worth remembering.  Species do go extinct.  Some of them are being lost in real time.  Conservation biologist Samuel Turvey shares one of the more recent, and more tragic, examples of a recent extinction.  He was intimately involved in the last ditch effort to save the baiji, the white freshwater dolphin of China's Yangtze River.  His story is Witness to Extinction - How We Failed to Save the Yangtze River Dolphin.

As Turvey explains it, part of the tragedy of the baiji is that no one wanted it to go extinct.  There was no hunting, no deliberate effort to harm the dolphins.  Instead, it was an innocent bystander.  The dolphins died from pollution of the heavily-traveled river, entanglement in fish nets, and collisions with boats.  Nor was it's demise unforeseen.  For decades, people had been shouting out that the dolphins were in peril; with Turvey being one of the loudest voices.  Plans were made; to collect nets from the river, too clean up pollution, and, most importantly, to capture the remaining dolphins and isolate them in a protected oxbow where they could breed and replenish their numbers.  Or at least stop dying.  Every effort ran into the brick walls of the Chinese bureaucracy and the relative indifference of the global conservation community (including some very strange personalities, including a conman of a conservationist who seemed intent on pulling all the strings, for what reason I still don't know).  

The book culminates in the 2006 expedition to search the river for the last dolphins.  I don't think I'm giving anything away (I mean, it says so in the book's title) when I say that none were found.

The book is compellingly written, an excellent synopsis of the natural history of this shy cetacean and its gradual demise.  What makes it all the more impressive is that you know how the story ends, but still find it a gripping read.  Mostly because of the tragedy of it all, but also just because of how unbelievable it was.  When I read the passage about how the supposed leading Chinese expert on the species, and the last biologist to see them in the wild, ended up not being able to recognize the species, and was misidentifying a separate porpoise species for the baiji, I felt like I needed to lie down for a minute so my head would stop hurting.  And reading about how some "baiji" were conveniently spotted and reported just after the survey left felt deeply suspicious and cynical.

The species - the last representative of an entire family of mammals - is still officially listed as Critically Endangered by the IUCN, but yeah, it's gone.  We, as a species and as a community, have failed it, which is a tragedy (the mantle of most-endangered marine mammal has now passed to the vaquita... and I wouldn't get too attached to them either).  And the sure way to compound that tragedy is to refuse to learn our lesson, and let history repeat itself.  Which it seems like we're 100% committed to doing.

Witness to Extinction: How We Failed to Save the Yangtze River Dolphin at Good Reads

An Unwholesome Alliance

 Dan Ashe's Alliance with Anti-Zoo Groups Sparks Backlash Among AZA Members

Most of this outreach occurred years ago, so I'm not sure why this is just getting an article now, but yeah.  I remember how outraged many of my colleagues felt when they heard that the leadership of HSUS was going to be speaking at an AZA conference, and wondering how this would possibly be to our benefit.  It's true that there are times when zoos and animal rights organizations find common ground, especially when the subject is the rescue of animals from subpar conditions.  Some zoos seem to have closer relations with AR's than others and are more prone to collaborative efforts.

There's a line between hearing what other people say for purposes of dialog and finding common ground on one hand, and legitimizing their arguments - which many members of your own community might find personally insulting and attacking - on the other.  It's especially exasperating as it limits our ability to work with high-quality non-AZA partners.  Also, AZA has been tightening accreditation standards to a degree that we've seen several longtime members, especially among the smaller zoos, loose accreditation.  Do these facilities suddenly become "bad" zoos overnight?  Are we expected to cut all ties and cooperation with colleagues we've known and trusted for years, just so we don't look bad in front of PETA and HSUS?  I have a hard time buying that viewpoint.

Where exactly this hypothetical line is, I can't say for sure - but I know that I'm not alone in the zoo community in my belief that if Mr. Ashe hasn't crossed that line, then he's at least standing directly on top of it.

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day!  To the zoo staff who are moms, the moms of zoo staff, the moms who are taking their kids to the zoo today (or who are getting some much deserved rest today while dad takes the kids to the zoo), and the zoo animal moms - or anyone that I missed!

Be Open. Be Honest. Be Proactive.

 It's been said that a lie can run around the entire world while the truth is still putting its shoes on.  The same could be said for information that, while not deliberately false, is misunderstood or misleading - a poorly formed version of the truth makes the rounds and is accepted as the gospel before the real story comes out, by which time it's too late.  

Such could have been the case at the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium, where a sudden burst of viral activity called attention to one of the zoo's polar bears, which appeared to be showing some unusual behaviors.  Some members of the public came to the conclusion that the animal was suffering, and were quick to spread the word.  Thankfully, the zoo was just as quick to respond, putting out a reply (it's a reel, not a video, so I couldn't figure out how to embed it - I'm not tech savvy) that directly explained what was going on and assured visitors that the bear was receiving optimal care and was ok.

Too often, when we see people raising concerns about animal care, we have a tendency to dismiss it as a few uninformed folks on facebook, and assume it will just blow over - or that nothing we could say to those people would make a difference anyway.  However, ignoring problems, or only responding one-off in comment sections, doesn't address concerns, and may make it look like there is a problem that the zoo is hiding from, or a truth we're ashamed of.  The best solution is to be upfront about concerns - if there's not a problem, explain it with science and observations and data, if there is a problem, explain what is being done to resolve it, if possible.  Let everyone know the truth that we know - that the animals come first, and caring for them is our top priority.  To that, well done Point Defiance.

Puppet Master

An increasing trend in caring for animals in zoos in aquariums is implementing new technologies and techniques into our care routines.  It amazes me at how much more high-tech this field is even compared to when I started as a young keeper.  

Sometimes, however, the old techniques work just as well.  Decades ago, at the height of the recovery program, zookeepers used hand puppets to raise endangered California condor chicks without imprinting them.  And now, keepers at the Bronx Zoo, having a young king vulture chick to raise, are using those same techniques - with one heck of a fancy looking puppet.

Species Fact Profile: Waldrapp Ibis (Geronticus eremita)

                                                 Waldrapp (Northern Bald) Ibis

                                               Geronticus eremita (Linnaeus, 1758)

Range: Historically ranged around the Mediterranean in North Africa, the Middle East, and Europe as far north as Germany.  Currently limited to two disjointed populations: a western population in Morocco and an eastern one in Turkey and Syria (possibly extinct due to recent geopolitical turmoil) which migrates to Ethiopia

Habitat: : Cliff Faces, Arid Grasslands, Wetlands, Scrub

Diet: Small animals, both vertebrates (fish, amphibians, lizards, snakes, small rodents) and invertebrates (scorpions, earthworms, snails, and insects, especially beetles), carrion, some plant matter, such as berries and duckweed

Social Grouping: Colonial

Reproduction: Monogamous, may be for life.  Breeding season begins in February, with eggs laid in March or April.  2-4 eggs are laid per clutch.  The freshly laid egg is pale blue, but gradually turns a dark brown with spotting.   Nest usually a platform of dried leaves and twigs, sometimes held together with mud, lined with grasses.  Both parents defend the nest for the 20-25 day incubation period, taking turns sitting.  After the chicks hatch, the parents take turns foraging and bringing back food for the chicks.  The chicks fledge at 40-50 days but become truly independent at 2-4 months old.  Sexual maturity for both sexes is at 3-5 years old

Lifespan: 10-15 Years (up to 40 Years)

      Conservation Status: IUCN Critically Endangered, CITES Appendix I, USFWS Endangered 

• Body length is 70-80 centimeters, with males being slightly larger than the females.  Wingspan is 1.2-1.4 meters, weight 0.8-1.4 kilograms. 
• Both sexes look alike.  The plumage is black with bronze, green, and purple iridescence, with a wispy ruff around the neck (which covers and camouflages the head when the bird is sleeping).  The head, neck, and throat are bald and a dull red color.  The slightly curved beak is 13-13.5 centimeters long.  The bill and legs are red.  Chicks are pale brown, juveniles resemble adults but with darker heads and paler beaks.
• Breeding colonies form on rock cliff, usually near water; they have also utilized castles and other artificial structures.   Females initially select the males based on the nest that he builds her.  They find their mate through calling to one another (males have a deeper voice than females).
• Migrate seasonally, with migration time being determined by the breeding season.  Faithful to nesting and feeding sites.  Outside of migration, maintain a rough home range of about 3-3.5 square kilometers, with a most-often used core area of 1 square kilometer.  Young birds wander more than adults
• Feeding is done mostly by probing in soft substrate with the long bill
• Chicks and eggs may be preyed upon by brown-necked ravens and Egyptian vultures
• The eastern and western populations are morphologically (western birds have slightly longer bills than eastern birds), ecologically, and genetically distinct, though they are not classified as separate subspecies at this time
• Along with Cape (southern bald) ibis, one of two species in the genus Geronticus.  Genus name from the Greek for “Old Man,” referring to the bald head.  The species name is from the Latin for “Hermit” or “Desert” referring to the habitat.  “Waldrapp” is from the German for “Forest Raven”
• Cause of decline is unclear, but may involve combination of hunting, loss of foraging habitat/disturbance of nesting sites, and poisoning through pesticide use (especially DDT).  Documented cases of electrocution on power lines.
• Conservationists have erected artificial nesting platforms to facilitate breeding in the wild, make up for the loss of natural nesting sites.  The birds will also nest on buildings
• The population declined in Turkey to functional extinction.  A captive breeding program was established using birds from the Moroccan population for use in reintroduction programs.  Reintroduced populations have been established in Austria, Spain, with experimental populations in other countries.  Some of these populations are hand-raised then led by humans on migrations to reestablish migratory behavior.  This was the first species to be reintroduced to the wild by the Jersey Zoo/Durrell Wildlife Trust
• Together with the sacred ibis, it was a symbol of the Ancient Egyptian god Thoth.  The species is also considered a possible source of inspiration for the Stymphalian Birds fought by Hercules
• During the Middle Ages their chicks were considered a delicacy by the nobility, though they received some formal legal protection as far back as the 1500s.
• First described in Western science in 1555 by Conrad Gesner in his Historiae animalium, which features a woodcut of this species.  Description was based on the now-extinct Swiss population
• Part of the reason that the species persisted for centuries in the Middle East after it was driven to extinction in Europe may have been religious protection.  Migrating ibises were believed to guide pilgrims on their hajj to Mecca, and a special festival was held annually in Turkey to celebrate their return from Arabia.  Another local legend says that they were one of the first birds released from the Ark by Noah

Cinco de What Now?

A major part of being in the zoo field, I've come to find, is being subjected (in some cases, instigating) an endless series of fundraisers and public awareness campaigns.  I'm pretty sure every day is the designated day for at least one species or group of species - which is fair.   Everyone needs to raise money.  Everyone needs to raise awareness.  The government sure as heck isn't going to be doing it.  But there's one campaign which has always confused me a little...

I mean, really?  We couldn't have given Cinco de Mayo to any other group of animals?  Maybe one with at least a tangential connection to Mexico?

I get it on some level.  Cinco de Mayo, fifth day of the fifth month, there are five species of rhino, all endangered, all needing help.  But that still has always seemed a bit of a stretch, especially when we lean into Mexican theming (and considering how many folks in the US act/behave with Cinco de Mayo, not even knowing what it actually is, it comes across as a little cringy, maybe even a little off-putting).  

The Cat and the Goose

As if "Man vs Gorilla" wasn't dramatic enough, the real world has also offered us some animal combat to watch.  Our arena is the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium.  In this corner we have the world's largest feline, the Amur tiger.  And in the other corner, the cobra chicken itself, the Canada goose.  The winner?  Don't look so surprised...

Best case scenario, this gives folks a lot more respect for the ferocity of the Canada goose.  Worst case scenario, you get some yahoo who thinks, "I knew tigers weren't that tough!" and proceeds to jump into an exhibit from which he never leaves alive.

Man (or, Rather, Many Men) vs Ape

I might not enjoy the company of primates, but I'm certainly not going to go out of my way to fight one (a thought experiment which was recently reinforced on me when I watched Gladiator II with its bald-baboon fight sequence).  And yet it seems to be an ongoing obsession with (male) zoo visitors that they could fight - and win - against a gorilla.  Most people seem to think that the answer is obvious.

Mike Tyson being one notable exception, of course...

Which then led to a spin-off question - what if it was the gorilla, versus 100 men?  For some reason this really taken off recently, with computer simulations and such renowned primate experts as Elon Musk (sigh) weighing in.  So who would win?

Primatologist Tara Stoinski of the Dain Fossey Gorilla Fund was consulted, and have pretty much the answer that I'd expect.  With sheer numbers of their size, the humans would win, especially assuming that they had no regard for personal safety (as one would expect from someone who would join this kind of endeavor)... but at least a handful of those people wouldn't be around for the victory party.  To her credit, Stoinski did her best to turn this idiotic thought exercise into an educational message, saying "In this dialogue that's going on around gorillas fighting humans, I think one of the thing's that's missed is that gorillas are... more often than not, very gentle animals."

Still, if your fanciful animal fight club scenario requires your side to have 100 to 1 odds to win, that should probably tell you something about the advisability of picking a fight... and let's not even speculate about 100 men versus 100 baboons.