Can You Commit? (Redux)

Repeating a post from 7 years ago, because it just seemed to fit pretty well here, and I thought it would be a good close-out to this themed month. 

"Oh, it's so sweet!  I want one!"

While I doubt that most - or even many of them - would stoop to larceny to fulfill their dream, I do spend a lot of time every day hearing visitors repeat some version of that quote.

Dutifully, a docent will usually emerge like a mirage at this point and give an unsolicited lecture about why that would be a bad idea and how exotic animals don't make good pets.  It's a standard educational talking point at AZA zoos and aquariums.  But how accurate is it?

It would seem obvious that most wild animals don't make good pets.  That's because they're wild.  It took countless generations of selective breeding to get our current domestic pets to where they are now.  That's why we don't (well, at least shouldn't) take gray wolves or African wild cats and bring them home and expect them to cuddle up with us.  They'd tear our faces off in no time.  A wild-caught European rabbit given to a child as a pet would probably have a heart attack and die in minutes.

That being said, I suppose that having spent most of my life working with non-domestic animals has given me a less-mystified view of keeping exotic animals.  In many ways, some species aren't much harder than a dog or a cat in the hands of a qualified caretaker.  Once you get the diet and the enclosure and the proper vet care in place, a sloth really is less of a handful than a Pomeranian.  The problem is, of course, that people who are not qualified seldom realize that they aren't qualified.  There are sanctuaries filled with animals that someone thought they could manage, then realized they couldn't.  Well, I suppose the lucky ones are the animals with owners who realized they were in over their heads.  The less lucky ones died.

Salvador Dali taking his pet giant anteater for a walk.  Even for a surrealist, this is kind of an inconsiderate move, and I'm forced to conclude that Dali (who also had a pet ocelot) was somewhat of a jackass.

Ownership of exotic animals is increasingly regulated on a local level, though a recent ruling at USDA did loosen some restrictions on persons with small numbers of less-dangerous animals.  In some states you won't find anything more exotic than a gerbil outside of an accredited zoo.  In others, it's the wild west.  Largely, if people want to do it, and they've got the money for it, they'll do it, legally or otherwise.  Before acquiring an exotic pet (any pet, really), here are the questions I think need to be asked.

1) Is it legal?  If it's not... don't.  That simple.  Your animal's quality of life will not benefit from its being kept hidden in a backroom and/or confiscated, and then quite possibly euthanized after a suitable approved home can't be found.  Illegal ownership only serves to tarnish the practice of exotic petkeeping, which never has the best of reputations.

2) Is the animal sourced ethically?  By this I mean more than asking if it's been taken from the wild (possibly in violation of CITES or other laws).  In the case of mammals (especially primates) was it taken from its mother at too young an age?  Was it inbred to promote some genetic quirk, such as a color morph?

3) Why do you want it?  This is a tricky one of answer, but one of the most important questions.  An exotic animal is a living, breathing being, not a prop or a fashion accessory to be used for shock value.  Getting an animal on a whim or to make a statement or because it's a fad is a great way to guarantee that you'll get bored with it sooner rather than later.  Which brings us to #4...

4) Can you commit?  Will you be able to meet the physical, social, behavioral, medical, nutritional, etc requirements of this animal for the duration of its life (first fun check - do you know how long it can be expected to live?)  Especially in the case of reptiles, never get a juvenile with the understanding that you can find a new home for it once it gets big.  You probably won't.  Come up with contingency plans - who is going to take care of your lemur, your serval, your whatever if you are no longer able to?  What will it cost to properly care for and house the animal - can you really afford it?

"Exotic pet" is kind of a catch-all term for animals are variable as geckos and jaguars.  Some are a lot easier to satisfy the requirements for, are subject to far fewer laws, and require much less expense and challenge.  Some are very difficult and would be best left to professionally run institutions with a full time staff of trained keepers.

So if you find that, alas, you can't commit to a sloth or a red panda, don't sweat it.  Just go to your local zoo (maybe even see if there are volunteer or behind-the-scenes tour opportunities).  You can think of it as your pet that we take care of for you - you just pop in and see it, and we'll scoop the poop.

Species Fact Profile: Beauty Rat Snake (Elaphe taeniura)

                                Beauty Rat Snake (Beauty Snake, Cave Racer)

                                               Elaphe taeniura (Cope, 1861)

Range: South and Southeast Asia, Indonesia

Habitat: Tropical Rainforest, Cave Systems

Diet: Rodents, Bats, Birds, Eggs, Frogs

Social Grouping: Solitary

Reproduction: Females lay 2-13 eggs, about 5 x 3 centimeters in size, which they defend during the 70 day incubation period (except for breaks to hunt).  Hatchlings are 30-45 centimeters upon hatching, independent at birth, sexually mature at about 18 months

Lifespan: 15-25 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Vulnerable

• Total length 1.2-1.8 meters.  Maximum length reported 2.8 meters.  Triangular head, robust body
• Background color yellow-brown or olive green, growing darker towards the tail (large black stripe running along the side), covered with dark blotches.  Paler on the underside.  Black stripe running back from behind each eye
• When frightened, wriggle their tails against substrate to make a rattling noise, as well as flatten their bodies to look larger and fiercer (resembles the hood of a cobra).  Will bite readily, but prefers to flee
• Primarily terrestrial, but also a good climber (can scale rock walls in caves to access bats), may shelter in trees for the night (active by day)
• At least ten subspecies documented, varying in their pattern, size; some subspecies have several color morphs.  The endemic Taiwanese subspecies (E. t. friesei) especially commonly kept in zoos, pet collections
• Widely kept as a pet, as well as harvested for its skins
• Feral population exists in the subway system of Hasselt, Belgium, descended from animals that escaped a pet shop in 2005 and have been able to survive the cold winters using the warmth of the tunnels.  Sometimes encountered in neighboring buildings
• Has been introduced to Okinawa, Japan, and become an invasive species, threatening native bird and mammal populations.  Also introduced to Hong Kong
• Genus name from the Greek for "stag" (unknown why - this is the genus of the various Old World ratsnakes), species name from the Greek for "ribbon tail"

Raging Rehbbers

I was thinking about this even before the untimely passing of Mikayla Raines, but her story just drove the point home further for me.

Rescue people are intense.  And they can be crazy.

No, I'm not calling Ms. Raines being crazy.  I'm talking about all of the rehab and rescue folks, people who should, ostensibly, have the best idea of what she's going through, who cheerfully decided to dog-pile on and drive this woman to her grave.  I'm really not surprised.

Unlike zookeepers, who work together as part of a team, and therefore have each other to fall back upon for support even in the darkest of times (and who are able to, you know, take a day off now and then because someone else can cover the section), or veterinarians who work out of a hospital as part of a practice, small-scale rescue and rehab people are typically alone.  All of the pressure and stress of their role falls squarely on their shoulders, they have to make the decisions themselves, so when something goes wrong, they feel like it's all on them.  They literally hold powers of life and death over various creatures, who may either be returned to the wild,. kept in human care forever, or die based on the decisions that their caretakers make.

It's enough to wear a lot of people down.  I've also seen it really turn some people bitter, hostile, and angry at the world, convinced that they are the only "good guy" (usually good gal), the only person who really cares about animals, and everyone else is either a villain, an idiot, or an idiotic villain.

A small zoo that I worked at over a decade ago wanted to hold a "Pet Awareness" day, themed around exotic pet ownership, seeing as many of our animals were former pets.  We had talks and demos focused around a variety of animals, from chinchillas and cockatoos to Burmese pythons and green iguanas, and we invited someone from a local reptile rescue to join us to give talks.  My idea was that we would talk about the challenges in keeping some pets, encourage visitors who wanted pets to do their research, and consider animals that were more in line with the resources and level of care they had available.

This lady did an angry rant at every visitor about how anyone keeping a pet reptile was a monster - I had three at the time, but never mind that, this lady had a veritable warehouse of them - and that even a leopard gecko was beyond the abilities of all but experts such as herself.  After she (finally) left, she sent a long, handwritten letter detailing all the things that she though were wrong with our reptile collection, based on her observations, which did not go behind the scenes or into any real depth.  I was shocked.  Most of the stuff she wrote was so amateurishly incorrect, based on old husbandry folklore.  We were wrong for keeping desert reptiles... on sand?  For not having a pool big enough for our leopard tortoise to swim in?  She had lots of opinions and lots of rage, and not much room for else.

At another zoo, we wanted a tarantula for our education program, and I decided to look into adopting one from a rescue that had one a few counties over.  I was sent an application which, if I'd printed it off, would have weighed several times what the spider did, and would've squashed it if dropped on it.  I'm pretty sure that there was a question to the effect of, "Have you ever stepped on a spider of any kind, or any reason, regardless of what age you were?  If so, roll up this application and beat yourself with it."  We did end up adopting the spider, but man, that was a lot of paperwork and testimonials and references...

Later at that same facility, I was told by volunteers that there was a woman at the main gate with an owl to see me.  When I arrived, I found a rehabber that I was sort of familiar with holding a cardboard box, telling me she had a great horned owl for the zoo.  I peeked inside and saw an owl, standing among what I later confirmed were several partially eaten drumsticks of fried chicken.   When I told her that I wasn't in a position to take in yet another rescue owl at the moment - no room at the inn, as we already had several - least of all in the middle of a busy Saturday, she put down the box, pulled out the startled owl, and began waiving it around, yelling to anyone in earshot about how it was going to die if I didn't take it, look into its eyes and say I didn't want to save it, etc.

So yeah, I've seen what being a rehabber or rescuer can do a person working it alone, or as part of a very small team. The simmering, self-righteous fury - and how it can be directed , unleashed upon someone who they disapprove of, sometimes with tragic results.  If they can make someone else the bad guy, the person who doesn't care, who fails the animals, than that means, to them, that they can still be the good guy, who's doing everything right.

The Unbearable Burden of Caring

 Mikayla Raines, founder of Minnesota's Save a Fox rescue, dies at 29

Some people collect animals for the pleasure of owning them.  Some do it for financial reasons, such as breeding them and selling the offspring to other owners.  Others still accumulate animals in the hopes of saving them.  One such person was Mikayla Raines, who dedicated her life to saving foxes, especially those in fur farms.  The animal rescue field, much like the conservation field, is full of people who mean well, but often are insistent upon doing things their way - I've heard it said that if you put 10 animal people in a room together, the only thing you'll ever get 9 of them to agree on is that the 10th person is doing everything wrong.

As it happened, Ms. Raines became the target of intense online harassment and criticism, not just from your standard internet trolls - nameless, faceless - but from other animal rescue figures that she knew, respected, and trusted.  Already struggling with her mental health, the cyberbullying proved overpowering.  Ms. Raines recently took her life.  Perhaps the constant barrage of criticism and bullying had made her think that her tormentors were right, that she wasn't doing right by the animals, that she was hurting, not helping.  It's a tragic loss - for Ms. Raines, her family, the foxes, and an audience which had grown to love her online content about saving foxes.

Caring about animals - and caring for animals - is hard work.  Physically, mentally, and often emotionally.  It's easy to feel overwhelmed, or defeated, or that you're doing everything wrong and that people hate you.  I've never encountered it directed towards me personally, but I know colleagues who have had folks online tell them that they hoped they died, or deserved to rot in prison, or some other horrible fate because those people disapproved of how animals were being cared for, often based on poorly-formed impressions.

If you are in the animal care field, try to give yourself a little grace.  And no matter what, try to be a little kinder to everyone you meet, in person or online.   

Selfless/Selfish

When talking to visitors about the dangers or downsides to keeping some animals as pets, I find that there are two approaches that can be used.  Sometimes they can be used in tandem.  Sometimes one will work and the other will not.  And in some cases, both have failed to change the person's position.  I call them the selfless and the selfish approach.

The first one, and the one that I consider more desirable, is the selfless one.  That's when you inform the visitor about the potential impact and wellbeing of their decision to keep a pet on the animal.  It's when you talk to them about how the animal might be expected to suffer if kept in conditions that it might experience with an inexperienced or unsuitable pet owner.  Not enough space, socialization, or stimulation, resulting in boredom or neurosis.  Improper diet and health care, resulting in sickness and poor condition.  Stuff like that.  Ideally, the takeaway is that the person processes their decision, decides that they want the animal to be happy and healthy, and makes a more informed decision, which, nine times out of ten, involves them not getting the animal.

This doesn't always work, though.  I was talking to a visitor at an iguana exhibit one day, and she was going on about how she wanted one, and talking about her set up.  I told her that if she wanted an iguana, she might want to think bigger - also, better lighting, some outdoor access, etc.  She cut me off, saying she wasn't planning on it living that long.  I was speechless.

Which brings me to the second approach, the selfish one.  This is where you try to convince the visitor that their own self interest will be negatively impacted by getting the animal.  I don't open with danger - for a lot of people who want a dangerous pet, such as a venomous snake, the danger is the point... or at least it is until they get bitten.  I talk about other things that there's less "shame" in not wanting to deal with.  For macaws, for example - their loudness, their neediness, their destructive tendencies.   They might not be put off initially by talk of expenses, convinced that they can cut corners or do things cheaper, but when you give them an impression of their expensive dining room table reduced to splinters, that may catch their attention.  Some people just don't care about the animals, but they sure as heck care about themselves, their comfort, and their wallet.

It reminds me of the old line about Cromwellian England.  Puritans banned bear-baiting, but not because it caused pain to the bears, but because people enjoyed it.

Invasion of the Spider Monkeys

Okay, I admit it, the title is misleading.  "Invasion" implies that it is being done willingly... but "overwhelming trafficking of the spider monkeys" doesn't have the same ring to it.

In recent years, there has been a major influx observed in smuggled spider monkey babies being found at the US-Mexican border.  Some are being snuck up here for sale, others have already been sold, and their new owners are trying to bring them home.  Whatever the case, many have been found during inspections and confiscated.  But what to do with them?  Many of these monkeys are in poor physical condition due to their young age, inappropriate care, and rough transport conditions.  The answer is generally, "call the zoo."

But what happens from there?  Find out here:

A Lifelife on Care for Confiscated Spider Monkeys

Who You Gonna Call?

 One of the biggest challenges of being an exotic pet owner - even for legal, relatively run-of-the-mill exotics, such as reptiles, hedgehogs, sugar gliders, etc - can be finding a vet who is willing to treat them.  I've run into this problem in the past, especially when working as a keeper in more rural areas where the vets are fewer and far in between, and tend to focus on the basics - dogs, cats, livestock.  Even the facility that I worked at was confronted by this limitation - at three places where I've worked, we were such small facilities that we didn't have our own full-time vet, and instead contracted one out... a local vet who primarily treated, you guessed it, dogs, cats, and livestock.

Even more worryingly, some of the vets that I've encountered in some of these areas have been... less knowledgeable... about patients.  For example, I had a tortoise fecal sample go to a vet, who freaked out about the parasite load - but tortoises as a rule tend to have lots of worms, not desirable but not unusual.  He wanted us to put the tortoise on Ivermectin (a medication which, for unfortunate reasons, has become a lot more famous and popular in recent, post-COVID years).  Ivermectin is a dewormer commonly used in zoos for a variety of species.  Only problem?  It's deadly to tortoises.  He was, in his ignorance of chelonians, preparing to swap out a minor inconvenience for a deadly "solution."

Not surprisingly, many exotic pet owners I know have convinced themselves that they know more than any vet could, and as such never take their pets to the vet.  Or, they gather on online chatrooms and facebook pages, where the advice of the expert and the ignorant can be very hard to distinguish, and I've seen some truly bad ideas posted and accepted as authority.   This, also, is undesirable.

The best solution is to have a plan of veterinary treatment before you get your animal, and start a relationship with your vet before it's an emergency.  Find one you trust, and who has a chance to establish a "normal" baseline with your animal before there is a problem.  And, as many of the zoos that I've worked with have come to learn, sometimes following painful disaster... it's generally worth hiring your own full-time vet, one who will come to develop some expertise in your animals.  A tiger might be a big cat on the inside at the end of the day, but most vets don't come out of school prepared for the challenges of treating a sloth.

From the News: Gecko Gallery

 A new gecko gallery filled with rare species is opening in Brooklyn

The Power of Private Breeders

It's not uncommon for me to see a story in which a zoo is celebrating the hatch of some rare species of reptile of amphibian, maybe for the first time in a zoo - only for someone in the comments to point out that there is a private keeper which has been breeding that species for many years.  There's often an underlying assumption that private keepers and caretakers are better breeders than zoos and aquariums.

But are they?  That can be a murky question.

Overall, my answer is, no.  Private breeders aren't inherently better at breeding than zoos - plenty of them, in fact, are quite awful.  There are, however, cases in which a private breeder can greatly excel, getting much better results than many zoos do.  There might be a few reasons for that.

First of all, private breeders tend to specialize, whereas many zoos are more generalists.  If you dedicate yourself to Uroplatus geckos, and that's all (or at least 90% of what you do), you're going to develop a system of working with those animals in considerable detail.  On the other hand, Uroplatus geckos at a major zoo might be in a Madagascar building, cared for by keepers who really wanted to work with lemurs, and the geckos are just a side exhibit that they take care off.

Second, private breeders are, by nature of being economical, going to keep multiple pairs or groups of a given species, which gives them more flexibility.  This pair of cockatoos isn't mating?  Switch mates with the pair in the adjacent aviary, see if that works!  Whereas a zoo in a similar situation might have to wait for an SSP transfer recommendation, do pre-ship testing, then quarantine, then introductions... and so on.

Thirdly, and I'm convinced this is the biggest strength of private breeders versus zoos in some cases, turnover.  Zoos constantly are replacing staff, both due to the low wages and the tough conditions, which makes it a lot harder to build expertise and develop institutional knowledge.  A private owner taking care of animals year after year is more easily able to learn from mistakes and improve techniques.

Private breeders will also say that the fact that their livelihood depends on their animals breeding also makes them more efficient - which makes sense to a degree.  It also makes some of them less willing to innovate, because they don't want to risk messing up soemthing that seems to be working.

A strength that zoos have over private breeders?  Collaboration.  A zoo that cracks that code of breeding an endangered species is going to share their secret with other zoos so that they can breed too.  A private breeder is more likely to want to guard that secret so that they won't lose an edge over rivals.

The Borneo earless monitor is a reptile species which has started gaining a toehold in the US, both in zoos (though not publicly exhibited anywhere, I believe) and in private trade. "Conservation thru Commercialization" is the slogan of Tom Crutchfield, the famous reptile dealer/breeder whose exploits are recounted in Stolen Word, by Jennie Erin Smith

Zoo Review: Memphis Zoo, Part II

Continuing with our tour of the Memphis Zoo, we continue into the eastern end of the zoo, which is mostly comprised of three zoogeographic-themed areas.

When I was first entering the zoo field, Memphis was famous for being one of the four US facilities to exhibit giant pandas.  Unlike the other three holders, Memphis went all-in on a China-themed exhibit complex, which featured not only the black-and-white bears in an indoor/outdoor exhibit, but a host of other species set among Chinese-styled architecture.  The pandas themselves are now gone, nor have I gotten the impression that Memphis seeks to obtain new ones (not surprising, considering all of the drama that ensued), but the other species remain in what is, even without their flagship species, one of the most interesting exhibit areas in the zoo.

Visitors won’t see giant pandas in Memphis, but they will see red pandas, as well as two species of monkey (including one of the few US exhibits of Sulawesi black macaques), extinct-in-the-wild Pere David’s deer, and a beautiful Chinese waterfowl pond, among other exhibits.  The former giant panda exhibit is now occupied by clouded leopards.  Signage tells the story not only of the pandas, but the host of other species that call sprawling country home, including other species not present at Memphis.

Pandas may have been the big draw, but for many years the species which Memphis has been most famous for in the zoo community has been the Nile hippo (fittingly, a species closely associated with ancient Egypt, considering the zoo’s namesake).  Between my first visit to Memphis and my most recent, the giant aquatic mammals have gotten a major exhibit upgrade in Zambezi River Hippo Camp, where they can be observed both above and below the water, sometimes swimming inches away.  Like most hippo exhibits, I’d always stand for their being a larger, grassier land area, but it’s still one of the best exhibits of this species I’ve seen.  Right next to the hippos is a similar exhibit for their predatory counterpart, the Nile crocodile.  Also nearby are exhibits for okapi, mandrill, and lesser flamingo.

The remainder of Africa is represented by a series of older, somewhat dull paddocks for various hoofstock.  Visitors can encounter a mixed yard of antelope, along with red river hogs, giraffes, and white rhinos.  African elephants are in a tired old yard, though I understand that this area of the zoo is slated for a major refresh in the nearish future.

North America is represented by two side-by-side complexes, each themed around bears.  Northwest Passage features polar bears and California sea lions in exhibits with underwater viewing, including a seating area, in an area decorated with totem poles.  It’s a pretty enough exhibit area, but the mismatch irks me slightly.  Polar bears are too far north for totem poles OR, for the most part, California sea lions (but, as these are the most common zoo pinniped, they often get matched with the bears).  Bald eagles and ravens are also found here, and fit a little better thematically.

The newest addition is Teton Trek.  Visitors approach a massive wooden lodge/event space (complete with fireplace and rocking chairs), and then take a looping walk past habitats of gray wolves, North American porcupines, elk, and a lagoon of waterfowl and sandhill cranes.  All of this circles the massive, spacious grizzly bear habitat, with the bears visible for several vantage points – at their pool, through thick windows, or from an elevated walkway.  There are several cool enrichment features for the bears incorporated into the exhibit.  One that I found particularly interesting was a deep fissure in the rockwork of the exhibit, which allows the bears to sniff visitors – without being able to reach them, no matter how hard your kid tries to jam their tiny arm towards the bears.  For non-animal features, the geyser at the entrance will also likely be a hit.

I’m to this day still unsure why Memphis Zoo doesn’t crack the tier of top-zoo for more visitors.  It’s an impressive collection with great diversity and several unique species.  Some of the exhibits are in need of a refresh, but those plans are in place.  The zoo also found itself intensely trolled online while it had the pandas (one of the bears had a skin condition which led to a lot of rumors and online harassment), along with a longstanding feud about parking with the neighboring community, which may also have unfairly damaged its reputation.  Still, I found Memphis to be an excellent zoo, dramatically improved from my last visit, and I look forward to watching it continue to develop.

Zoo Review: Memphis Zoo, Part I

A lot of folks – both in the general public and the zoo community – tend to sleep on the Memphis Zoo.  It’s a facility that I feel tends to be overlooked by a lot of people – which is surprising, because in many ways, it’s perhaps the most complete US zoo that I’ve been to in recent years.  How many other US zoos have ALL of the big cats, ALL the ape genera, an aquarium, a nocturnal house, and the four mega-herbivores (elephant, giraffe, hippo, and rhino)?  Not a lot.

Granted, I could see why the place isn’t to everyone’s tastes.  A lot of the growth and construction happened in the 1990s, so there are a lot of exhibits that are in that weird transitional phase between being too-old to be modern and too-new to replace yet (when I visited last year, a colleague I was traveling with commented that it seemed like the place had closed up in storage for the past few decades and just reopened for our arrival).  There is also a lot of somewhat over-the-top theming, which can make the place feel like a theme park more than a zoo at times.  Still, I very much enjoyed my recent visit – my first time back to the zoo in 20 years, during which several major new exhibits had opened – and I think it’s often overlooked as being one of the major US zoological facilities.  Even from its relatively early years, this one of the larger American zoos.

The theming hits you the moment you approach the main gate.  Memphis, Tennessee is, of course, named after the ancient Egyptian city of that name, and the zoo leans into that connection with its massive entry complex, styled after the ruins of an Egyptian city, with statues, obelisks, and fountains.  Cats were among the many animals sacred to the ancient Egyptians, so it’s fitting that the first exhibit that most visitors come to is Cat Country, a series of grassy yards with mock-rock backdrops, with a few smaller, meshed-in enclosures, that hold pretty much all of the world’s large wild cat species.  Grouped roughly geographically, lion, cheetah, leopard, jaguar, snow leopard, and puma are among the species seen here, along with tigers with a large pool and a ruined temple backdrop.  The exhibits aren’t breathtaking, but are perfectly serviceable, what you’d expect from 1990’s zoo architecture (I wonder if the zoo will keep all of these species or phase some out in order to consolidate enclosures).  The zoo’s former big cat quarters, the Carnivora House, is now a nearby dining area.

Primates occupy a similar set-up to the cats in Primate Canyon, with grassy habitats for gorillas, orangutans (with small-clawed otters), and bonobos, as well as some monkeys and lemurs in mesh-enclosed habitats.  Like the cat exhibits, these are nice enough habitats, if not particularly exciting or unique.  Smaller, nocturnal primates are found in the Animals of the Night building.  I tend to have mixed feelings about nocturnal houses – the all-indoor enclosures, the glass which lends itself to banging, the traditionally smaller enclosures – and often feel like I can’t see the animals that well anyway.  This was one of the more impressive nocturnal buildings I’d seen, both in terms of the quality of the habitats, the visibility, and the scope of the collection.  In the darkened gallery, visitors can encounter such diverse species as aardvark, binturong, vampire bats, and southern hairy-nosed wombat, in addition to the previously-mentioned small nocturnal primates.  Also, the only bear cuscus on exhibit in the US, to the best of my knowledge!

This corner of the zoo also contains a series of taxonomic animal houses.  The aquarium is quite small, but manages to pack in a lot of smaller exhibits.  You won’t see the big shark tank that you’d find at many facilities, but most zoos tend to limit their aquatic collections to that, and maybe a touch-tank of rays.  This small, charming building has a series of smaller habitats of both freshwater and saltwater habitats from around the world, and serves as a nice touch towards the completeness of the zoo.  A decent reptile house is nearby, though perhaps a bit overstuffed.  For example, the three open-air crocodilian habitats crowded at one end of the building could, perhaps, be better combined into one larger habitat for one species.  Still, the building provides an excellent opportunity to learn about the active and interesting North American herp conservation projects at Memphis, such as the dusky gopher frog and Louisiana pine snake.  A separate building just down the path features Komodo dragons with an indoor/outdoor habitat.

Many zoos have walk-through aviaries, but actual bird houses (with individual habitats for species) are much less commonly encountered.  The Tropical Bird House is a nice attraction, filled with many smaller species, especially but not limited to passerines, that don’t play well in large, mixed, walk-through aviaries, and as such are often excluded from zoo bird collections.  Species seen here included African pygmy falcons, pompadour cotingas, and violaceous euphonias.  That being said, there is also a central walk-through aviary in the building.  African penguins were found in a nearby pool outside.

This end of the zoo also includes a very pleasant children’s farmyard area, one of the most attractive that I’ve seen.  We’ll cover the remainder of the zoo in the next post.

Memphis Zoo

Look What the Cops Dragged In

 There are few sights less reassuring to a zookeeper than watching a police officer walk up to your front gate carrying a cardboard box at arm's length.  In fact, the only thing I think that worries me work is coming in first thing in the morning and seeing the cardboard box is already there, outside your front gate... and it's moving slightly.   One such occasion of the former happened early in the career, when a policeman informed me that I, the first person that he saw, was now the proud owner of whatever the hell it was that was in the box, cause he sure couldn't figure it out, and could I sign here, please?

With at least enough knowledge that it wasn't a venomous snake or something, I took the box inside, assembled the staff, got some really thick gloves, and opened the box.

And that is how I met Kayla, the kinkajou.  She'd been found wandering the streets, dazed as confused as only a small nocturnal mammal in broad daylight can be, when the cops found her and brought her to us, the nearest zoo that they could think of.

(Incidentally, this is not how any of this is supposed to work - they should have involved animal control, drawn up a chain of custody, gotten a vet to take a look at it, I don't know, CALLED TO SEE IF WE COULD EVEN TAKE IT... not just... showed up.  If there's one annoying trend I've noticed in my professional dealings with law enforcement, it's that the cops kind of just do whatever they want and we have to work around them.)

Not knowing at all what the story was with this animal, we placed her in a wood-framed, wire-fronted holding cage in a storage room to keep her away from the other animals, treated her as semi-quarantined, and then retreated to another room to figure out what do with her.  Another annoying thing I've noticed about not just cops, but non-zoo folks in general.   They just assume that anything animal related, the zoo will take care of it or know what to do.  In our case, of the six animal staff at our zoo, I soon found out that three of them had never even heard of a kinkajou before.  I was the only one who'd ever worked with one at all - a rather elderly ambassador animal at a different zoo I'd volunteered at when I was younger.

As it happened, Kayla was a young animal, or so it seemed.  It also seemed like she was really NOT a former ambassador animal, as she was incredibly foul-tempered, quick to lunge and snap at anyone who approached her hammock.  I suspect she was a former pet who did not care for the attempted enforced snuggles, bit her owner, and then got dumped on the street as a means of disposal.

We only kept her for a few months, before she was rehomed to another facility.  As far as I can tell, no law enforcement ever came back to follow up on her case or see what was going on with her.

Dragons in the Vents

 There is a lot to be concerned about when exotic pets are concerned - the health and safety of humans and animals being one key consideration.  That being said, for every person I've met who has been hopelessly blase about the risks of their animals, I've met at least one other who has had a ridiculously overblown reaction.

Years ago, I was changing jobs and was looking for a new apartment.  I found one that I liked, with good amenities, a decent location, and a good cost, and was about to sign the paperwork.  When they asked if I had cats or dogs, I said no.  I did tell them that I had a few (small, harmless) lizards.  Suddenly, the wheels were off the conversation.

They were apologetic but firm, but lizards were strictly forbidden.  And not under some sort of blanket statement about pets.  Like, they were singled out.  I was baffled.  I'd never heard of such a rule.  Sure, snakes have a stigma, and I've heard of some apartments that have concerns about fish, because of the possibility of tanks overflowing and water getting everywhere, but a leopard gecko?  It's basically a goldfish without the water.  At my last apartment, one of the maintenance guys told me that mine was the only apartment that he ever liked getting calls to, especially when he came while I was away at work.  He'd just do the job, then sit and watch the lizards for a bit.  So what was the holdup?

I was told that their concern was that the lizards would get loose and enter the vents of the apartments.  What they would do when they got there, besides presumably die, was beyond me.   It seemed like a weirdly specific phobia, but they were so... earnest in their dread about it.  I called my way up the company's chain of command.   I spent a long time patently negotiating, offering a deposit (vent deposit?), letters of reference from other apartments to confirm that they were never a problem, etc.  No dice.  Lizards apparently equaled vent vermin.

And so, with some disappointment (and a little dread, because I was down to the clock looking for a new place), I withdrew my application.  Thankfully, I found a place just a block or two away in which the lizards were welcome.  For as long as I lived there, whenever I took one of them out for cleaning or an exam, I'd sometimes see them cock their heads and look at something, and I'd wonder - are they going to make a break for the vents?

You'd Be Cranky Too

What I remember the most about being a keeper taking care of leaf-tailed geckos was how strange it was being physically intimidated by a lizard that, excluding tail, was about the size of a hot dog.  To be fair, Uroplatus are pretty unworldly lizards.  When I'd reach in to pick one up, they'd always do the same drill.  Stare at me with their eerie, alien-like eyes stick their tails perpendicular to their body, like an alert flag, and then scream.  And then, if I persisted in trying to pick them up, then I'd get the bite.

Their defensive displays may have been enhanced by their weird looks, but in terms of defensive fury, the leaf-tails had nothing on the tokay geckos, which would cut the display routine and just go straight for the bite - sometimes when I wasn't even considering picking them up, and was just going for a piece of poop.  I did not care for taking care of the tokays.

Neither did anyone else, really - the species has a reputation overall for being a nasty, bitey little thing.  Ours at the zoo were former pets which the owner didn't want to deal with anymore.  I was so close to figuring out the actual truth at that moment, but just missed it.

A lot of species of reptile had reputations for being difficult species, but the reasons for this could really all be traced back to one thing.

You see, the tokays were all collected from the wild.  So were the leaf-tailed geckos.  In the early stages of my career, a lot of herps were still being imported from the wild.  And with that came a lot of associated problems.  Minor injuries obtained in capture that worsened.  Heavy parasite loads from the wild exacerbated by the stress of transport.  Difficulty adjusting to new diets.  And, above all, an overall bad attitude towards humans, based on reasonable past experience.  Even the ball python, that most basic of pet snakes, had a reputation of being a poor eater, an animal that just wanted to... well, curl up in a ball.

As zoos began to breed more of their own reptiles (including leaf-tailed geckos - there are several species now breeding readily in American zoos), keepers began to find animals that were hardier, calmer, more tractable, and more inclined to eat and breed.  Happily ever after then, right?

Not exactly.  You see, there are still some species which, while they can be bred under human care, are still easier and cheaper to just import from the wild, and while many zoos have moved over towards sustainable acquisition, or preferably breeding their own, there are still a lot of imports going on for the pet trade.  A lot of people seem to be under the impression that this is illegal and the animals are smuggled, but this is often not the case, and many species are legally imported in large numbers for the pet trade.  So, if you're looking to source an animal, be it for a zoo or as a personal pet, and you're going to a dealer or a pet store, it's always good to look for those two letters - CB, for Captive Bred (as opposed to WC, Wild Caught).

You'll have happier, healthier animals, and you won't have to worry about contributing to a system which causes so much stress and hardship on wildlife.

Species Fact Profile: Giant Leaf-Tailed Gecko (Uroplatus fimbriatus)

 Giant Leaf-Tailed Gecko

                                               Uroplatus fimbriatus (Schneider, 1797)

Range: Eastern Madagascar

Habitat: Lowland Rainforest (up to 800 meters elevation)

Diet: Insects, Snails, other invertebrates

Social Grouping: Unknown in wild - can be found at high population densities, suggesting semi-social nature, though sexually mature males will fight if housed together in captivity

Reproduction: Females lay 2-3 eggs per clutch on the forest floor, which hatch after about 95 days.  Up to three clutches may be laid per year.  Hatchlings are about 5 centimeters at birth

Lifespan: 5-10 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern, CITES Appendix II

• Long, flat body with a triangular head and a broad, leaf-like tail.  Body length 25-30 centimeters
• Mottled pattern of greys, greens, tans, and brown, resembling bark with lichens growing on it.  The eyes are large and marbled, with concentric striations against a background of silver or tan
• The eyes are extremely sensitive to light (350 times more so than a human), capable of seeing in color even at nighttime
• Nocturnal, spends the days pressed flat against a tree trunk with its head point downwards.  The skin is covered with small fringes and flaps which obscure the animal’s outline when it is pressed against a tree.  This also greatly increases the surfaces area, helping to reflect and refract light
• If touched or otherwise disturbed, it will open its jaws wide (exposing a red mouth), stick up its tail, and scream loudly.  It may also bite if threatened
• Obtain moisture from water droplets forming on leaves and other surfaces (rarely drink standing water)
• Latin name consists of the Latinization of the Greek words for “Flat” and “Tail” for the genus and the word for “fringed” (based on the appearance of the skin) for the species name
• Habitat loss through deforestation is the primary threat, though capable of tolerating some habitat disturbance through logging and grazing. 
• All leaf-tailed gecko species are very sought after in the pet trade, though the IUCN considers the trade in this species in particular to have the potential to be sustainable (an export quota is set under CITES).  Most specimens on the pet trade are wild-caught, with captive bred individuals fairly rare

Stripes on the Street

"And if I had a million dollar(If I had a million dollars, 

Well, I'd buy you an exotic pet (Yep, like a llama, or an emu."

- Barenaked Ladies, If I Had $1000000 

When I was a kid, there was a restaurant that my family liked to go to now and then, that was a bit of a drive away.  I never minded the drive at all - and not just because of the food.  When we were about three-quarters of the way there, I'd start looking for landmarks that told me to keep my eyes peeled out the driver side of the car so I could be ready.  When we drove past one break in the trees, more often than not, I'd be able to spy a pair of zebras grazing on a grassy hillside, their black-and-white stripes boldly standing out against the green.

I never confirmed it was true or not, but I'd heard that this stretch of road was one of the most dangerous in the county - so many drivers would be startled by the unexpected sight of the zebras that they'd loose focus and crash, either into cars in the other lane or into trees or telephone poles.  

I suspect that, if you were to turn a given county over and shake it upside down - metaphorically, of course - the average person would be absolutely amazed at how many "zoo animals" they'd find outside the confines of a zoo.  And not just pet store exotics, like small herps and parrots, but truly unexpected   Those animals are out there, however, and no one really knows how many there are, which is why things like the question of how many pet tigers are really present in the US are subject to so much debate.  You seldom actually have any evidence of the presence of an exotic animal, unless it's prominently on display, like these zebras were...

... or if something goes wrong.  In which case, every local zoo is forced to repeatedly explain to a disbelieving press, "No, it's not ours."

Zebra Crossing: Tennessee police search for animal on the loose

Book Review: The Cuckoo Child

Farm boy Jack Daw absolutely adores birds of all sizes and shapes - but it's not until a class fieldtrip to the zoo that he finds his one true love in the form of the world's biggest bird, the ostrich.  But besides the adult ostriches that day, Jack discovers a clutch of their eggs - eggs which the zoo has deemed surplus and is going to feed out.  And so Jack filches one to bring home and put under some birds on his farm to hatch out.  The result?  An ostrich chick on his to raise.  Alternating hilarity and drama ensue.

This is the premise of Dick King-Smith's young adult novel, The Cuckoo Child (referencing the behavior of cuckoos laying their eggs in the nest of other birds to raise).  I stumbled across it in my school library as a youngster and absolutely loved it (it's a young adult book, well-suited for children in the late elementary school/early middle school age bracket).  It's a book that would appeal nicely to any young animal lover, though it did have the predictable side effect, at least in my case, of giving me a somewhat acquisitive eye during my next visit to the zoo.

(Semi-related.  When I started volunteering at my local zoo in my high school years, I found a discarded ostrich egg - infertile, unlike Jack's - on my first day, and brought it home to clean out.  I don't know if he remembered the book or not, but when my dad saw me walking to the car that day, egg tucked carefully under my arm, I think he was under the impression that the zoo had sent me home to sit on it and hatch out an ostrich chick.)

Being a young reader's book, there are doubtlessly things in this book which are a bit... inaccurate (or at least unlikely), but that's okay.  One should never let the truth get in the way of a good story, and this is, in fact, a good one.  An absolute buzzkill, which I am occasionally accused of being, might also wonder if this book could encourage children to want exotic animals as pets (though ostriches, being farmed in parts of the world, don't exactly fit in that category).  I'd thought the same thing, briefly, of the movie Zebra in the Kitchen, which this slightly reminds me of (a bit more serious and less slapstick, though).  I'd disagree with that assessment in the end, however.  I'd say that the first priority is making children into animal lovers, for which good stories are essential.  Focusing on the minutiae of what animals are pets or not is something that comes later.

The Cuckoo Child at Good Reads

Let the Buyer Beware

 Zoos and aquariums talk a lot of responsible pet ownership, but there's another side of the equation that I feel gets ignored - responsible pet sales or adoption.  What responsibility does the person or business supplying an animal to a private individual have?

That was a question that was brought to my mind by the second-ever Madagascar leaf-nosed snake that I'd ever seen.

The Madagascar leaf-nosed snake is one of the most unusual-looking of snakes.  It's a long, slender, arboreal species, but what makes this snake different from so many other long, slender, arboreal species is its unusual sexual dimorphism.  Part of it is coloration - males are brown on the back, yellow on the belly, whereas females are gray - but mostly it's to do with their namesake leaf.  The nose of the male looks silly enough, being long and pointed, whereas that of the female is, well, leaf-shaped - long, flattened, and somewhat frilly.  They're one of the sillier looking snakes, but before you laugh too much at them, be sure you're a respectful distance back.  They're also venomous.

Not super venomous - they won't kill you, and being rear-fanged, it would be a bit harder to get a tooth in you - but still not something you want to go and get bitten by.

Being such unique looking animals, you'd think that they'd be popular zoo animals, but they're a bit delicate and somewhat hard to care for.  This is especially true because of their diet - the eschew the rodents that most snakes feed, and require lizards, such as anoles, with most snakes being unwilling to make the switch to dead prey.  They've also proven very difficult to breed, so almost every specimen you'll see is wild-caught from Madagascar, with all of the baggage associated with a wild caught animal (temperament, diseases, parasites, etc).  Not that you'll see many specimens.  I worked with this species, a single female specimen, over 20 years ago, when I was first starting off in the field.  I didn't see another one for 15 years.

I was in a pet store in a small city where I used to live.  This pet store had a reputation for having lots of herps that it probably shouldn’t be selling, but it was the only pet store in our town, and I needed to get feeders for my personal pets from somewhere, so I was forced to go. I always made a point of walking the aisle to see what they had this month – a horned lizard? A sailfin dragon? – when I was stopped in my tracks at the sight of the leaf-nosed snake. What surprised me all the more was the fact that nowhere on the label did it mention the fact that the species is venomous. Besides the obvious safety concern, venomous reptiles were illegal as pets in our state. 

Also, it didn’t say anything about the specialized care – I could imagine some idiot trying to finger-feed it a pinky mouse.

On my way out of the store, I mentioned those concerns to the cashier. Next time I came back, the snake was gone, but to what end I do not know.

There are far more egregious examples that I could think of - such as selling primates or big cat cubs - but this struck me as a very irresponsible act on the part of the store.  Sure, once the animal leaves their shop, they have no control over what happens to it, so they can claim that their responsibility has ended.  Still, before it leaves the door, it is their responsibility, and they should make at least a minimal effort to make sure that the animal is going to a situation in which it will thrive - or, better yet, not stock some species at all - there's plenty of better animals to choose from for pet ownership/

A Backyard Zoo

When I was very young, going to the city zoo was my absolute favorite thing to do. As often as my parents could take me, though, it was never enough.  My five- or six-year old logic told me that it would just be so much more convenient for everyone if we could just have our own zoo at home.  After all, we had a big backyard.  It wouldn't be San Diego, to be sure, but I was sure we could fit something modest there.  And there was land nearby for expansion, once it gained a foothold and inevitably met with success.  I was sure that I was sitting on the best idea I'd ever had, fresh out of kindergarten, and spent a lot of my time working on designs for it.

Of course, that never happened, and by the time I'd spent my first week in an actual zoo, it was enough to shatter any illusions about a backyard zoo, once I knew the actual complexities of it.

So perhaps it would be best, then, if everyone who wants to keep exotic pets at home be required to spend a little time at a professional zoo learning what they're about to get themselves into - you know, before they take the plunge and get in too deep.

This month, I'm going to share a few stories about folks keeping exotic pets and backyard zoos and the affiliated world.  Sometimes it has a funny, or at least interesting, twist.  Sometimes, it doesn't.