Remember Who It's For

In more than two decades in the field, I've seldom met a keeper who felt that they had too much time on their hands.  Between feeding, cleaning, training, enriching, interacting with the public, and "other duties as assigned," the day can fly by quickly.  As such, a smart keeper must prioritize what they get done in a given day in order to make sure everything that needs to get done, gets done.  Feeding, for example, is a non-negotiable.  

And enrichment?  Also important - but decisions need to be made about priorities and plans.

A keep part of that, I find, is asking yourself who the enrichment is really for.  Is it for the animal, or is it more for the guests, or for the amusement of the keepers?  Don't get me wrong, there are times when some visitor-centric enrichment has its value, especially for social media engagement and special events.  That's when you laboriously make the multi-layer, rainbow-colored ice treat for a Pride celebration, or tediously decorate what would otherwise be a cardboard box into an Imperial AT-AT Walker for May the Fourth.  These can get the zoo attention and publicity and drive engagement.  But in normal situations... the animals don't care too much.  The aesthetics and theming don't matter; the enrichment object, and the behaviors that they stimulate, are all that matter.

My basic rule is that a keeper should not be spending more more time actively working on enrichment than the animal spends using it (the exception being if it's a permanent enrichment object, which the animal may use multiple times, for a short-duration each, but once it's built, it's built).  There have been times I've spent hours working on what I thought would be the ultimate enrichment, only for the animal to completely ignore it.  And if that's the case, lesson learned, maybe I spend my time working on something else in the future.  

Time and resources are limited.  If we had endless amounts of each, we'd spend all day in our workshop coming up with increasingly complicated and kookie enrichment ideas.  But as things are, too much time spent pursuing a dead-end idea is time not spent on other things that need to be done - including enrichment for other animals.

Book Review: Second Nature - Environmental Enrichment for Captive Animals

This month's book review isn't too much of a leisure read, but is an excellent work for those interested in gaining an understanding of the philosophy and principles of environmental enrichment.  Second Nature, edited by David Shepherdson, Jill Mellen, and Michael Hutchins, is a collection of papers written by a diverse collection of behavioralists, zoo biologists, and physcologists.  It introduces the reader to the basic principles of the field, explores its benefits (this book was written in the early 1990's, at a time when there were still plenty of folks in the zoo field who needed convincing), and details the various ways in which it can improve the lives and welfare of a variety of species.  When I first read this book as an undergrad in college, I was very impressed by the chapter on enrichment for reptiles, a topic which was eschewed by many zoo professionals at the time.  Today, it's value is much more clearly understood.

The book is the published form of conference proceedings, so the tone and accessibility of the different chapters may vary by author.   A point can also be made that much of what was revolutionary at the time of publication has since been expanded upon greatly, and there are now more current resources which may be of more practical use to a keeper or curator.

Still, I find this book to be an invaluable resource in its own way - in the same way that On the Origin of Species has been followed by more books with better understanding of evolution, but still embodies the genesis of the idea.  The true key to understanding environmental enrichment comes down to learning not so much the how of it - we're always devising new and better methods.  It's about making sure we really understand the why.

Second Nature: Environmental Enrichment for Captive Animals at Good Reads

Super Enrichment and Crafty Campers

Each summer, our zoo - like many zoos and aquariums - is filled with campers of all ages (including, in recent years, adults), all of them excited to experience the zoo.  Enrichment is a major part of that experience, and pretty much every camp group I've seen in recent years has had a strong focus on that component of the zoo.  Part of it may involve learning what enrichment is by watching different animals receive enrichment.  Many zoos take it a step further by having campers actually help to build or prepare enrichment objects - such as a papier-mâché prey animal to give to the lions - and then watch the animal enjoy it. 

It was at one small zoo where I worked that I used camp groups for what I called "super enrichment" days.  We'd pick an animal, such as our bears, and go all-out on enrichment of all kinds.  Once the bears were safely locked in holding, I'd let the kids into the exhibit and they'd swarm around, doing things.  Some would have spices or bottled scent, which they'd sprinkle or spritz around the enclosure.  Some would hide food, either around the exhibit or in puzzle feeders.  I'd often get a particularly nimble child to take a jar of peanut butter and scurry into some of the low branches, putting little dabs for the bears to climb up and find.  Others would bring in a few wheelbarrows of fresh, loose sand or soil for the bears to dig through, or haul in a rotten log for the bears to tear apart.  And so on.

When the job was done, I'd gotten the kids out of the exhibit and lined up at the front (carefully counting to make sure we'd gotten them all), the bears would be turned loose into their habitat.  The kids would enjoy seeing which new stimuli the bears would go for first, showing extra pride when the animals interacted with something that they themselves had put in.  Having an all-hands-in enrichment experience not only allowed me to do a lot more enrichment in one day that I might otherwise be able to, providing the bears (or whatever animal it was that session) with a more exciting, interesting day.  It also really allowed me to highlight the importance of enrichment to the animals, and what a difference in quality of life it could make.

Training as Enrichment

I feel like within the zoo community, we often lump enrichment in with training.  Both are very behavior-focused disciplines, and I've definitely noticed that the people who are very interested in one tend to also be very interested in the other.  Which is a little ironic, when you think about it.  Enrichment is meant to stimulate natural behaviors.  Training, on the other hand, often encourages animals to engage in decidedly unnatural behaviors (though it can also be used to encourage animals to demonstrate natural behaviors).

When teaching new keepers, I always used the saying that training is school.  Enrichment is recess.  

Besides it's other benefits in facilitating animal care - namely encouraging animals to voluntarily participate in their care, reducing stress and improving safety - training is often also touted as a form of enrichment.  If done correctly, training provides mental challenge and stimulation for the animal, giving it physical and mental exercise, testing problem solving capabilities, and building a stronger bond between keeper and kept.

The caveat for this is that choice is essential.  Choice is the main driver of enrichment, and if an animal is not given the option to opt out of training, than there is no choice.   Zoo professionals understand this concept better than the general public, which often associates training with the ol' Clyde Beatty routine, cracking whips and chairs and flaming hoops.  Training sessions ideally take place when the animal wants them to (working around keeper schedules) and in a manner that the animal is most comfortable with.  Most importantly, they end on the animal's terms.  In the picture below, there is nothing that will stop that seal from swimming away if it decides it doesn't want to interact with the trainer any more. 

With this in mind, sometimes training doesn't need a set purpose.  There may not be a medical or behavioral need that you're trying to fulfill in training an animal.  Instead, it can serve as just physical and mental exercise, essentially structured play for the animal.

Species Fact Profile: Harbor Seal (Phoca vitulina)

                                                               Harbor (Common) Seal

                                                          Phoca vitulina (Linnaeus, 1758)

Range: Coastal Atlantic and Pacific Oceans in Northern Hemisphere (arctic, sub-arctic, and temperate waters), as far north as Greenland and Russia and as far south as Mexico, Portugal, and Japan

Habitat: Shallow coastal coves and bays (average depth of 90 meters – can be found in deeper water) and estuaries, inter-coastal islands, adjacent beaches.  Glaciers used for breeding

Diet: Fish, Cephalopods, Crustaceans

Social Grouping: Solitary, form small, loose mixed-sexed groups during pupping and molting seasons

Reproduction: Breed in the water, with males displaying for females using vocalizations and dives.   Largely monogamous, though some males may mate with multiple (up to 5) females.  Single pup born every season, twins have  been reported.  Implantation is delayed for 2.5 months after copulation, then resumes for an 8 month gestation period.    Births occur on land or close to shore in an attempt to keep pups safe from aquatic predators.    Females sexually mature at 3-4 years old, physically mature at 6-7 years old.  Males sexually mature at 4-5 years, physically mature at 7-9 years.

Lifespan: 40-45 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern 

• Body length 160-190 centimeters, weigh 60-170 kilograms.  Males grow larger than females.  Large, round head with a blunt snout, no external ears, narrow nostrils, and large whiskers.  Long flat flippers each have five webbed digits, used for propulsion in association with the trunk. 
• Two color phases – the light phase consists of a yellowish coat with small pale spots ringed in black.  The dark phase has a black coat with dark spots with light rings.  Differences are caused by variation in the concentration of melanin in the skin, with some variation being season or due to annual abundance of prey.  Some appear almost pure white
• Males may engage in combat on land, establishing territories in areas of high female traffic. 
• Unlike other seals, harbor seals shed their downy coat (lanugo) before parturition and are born with the same coat of fur as the adults.  This allows them to enter the water at birth, though they often ride on their mother’s back in the water.  Milk is 50% fat, allowing pups to grow rapidly.  Pups are weaned at 4-6 weeks, with their mothers breeding again immediately after. 
• They do not migrate, but may disperse a few hundred kilometers for foraging and breeding opportunities, but usually stay within 50 meters of their haul out site.  Haul out onto land or ice for a variety of reasons, most importantly for the molt (usually 2-3 months after weaning).  On land, often seen in a “banana” position with the head and rear curved upwards
• Can dive down over 420 meters and remain underwater for nearly half an hour, but most dives are a fraction of that depth and time.  When diving, their heart rate drops from 80-120 beats per minute to as low as 3-4 beats per minute.  Some dives are “V” shaped, with seals quickly swimming down deeply and then turning back to the surface.  Others are “U” shaped, with seals getting to a cruising level and then swimming for a while.  Seals may learn their preferred style of diving from their mothers.
• Thick layer of blubber provides thermoregulation and nutrient reserve (especially useful for the molt, when they can’t go in the water).  During the winter, blubber may make up 30% of their body weight.  They have a higher metabolic rate than other mammals of the same size
• Predators include large sharks, orcas, and polar bears.  On land, they are vulnerable to coyotes and other terrestrial predators.  Pups may be vulnerable to eagles and ravens
• Five subspecies: Eastern Pacific (P. v. richardii), Kuril, or Western Pacific (P. v. stejnegeri), Eastern Atlantic (P. v. vitulina), Western Atlantic (P. v. concolor), and the Ungava, or Seal Lake (P. v. rmellonae), found only in a few lakes and rivers in northern Quebec in Canada.  Some authorities only acknowledge two subspecies – Atlantic and Pacific
• Historically have been hunted by humans for their blubber, meat, fur, and skin, and still are by some traditional indigenous communities.  
• As late as 1960, state-sanctioned bounty hunters in Washington and Oregon culled harbor seals as potential competitors for commercial fishermen (still legal under some circumstances in some countries, such as Norway, Canada, and the United Kingdom).  Sometimes taken as bycatch by fishermen
• Threats include entanglement in fishing nets and lines, pollution through oil spills and chemical contamination, vessel collisions, and habitat degradation.  Seals are popular tourist attractions, and may be subject to illegal feeding or harassment.  Some populations have been lost due to disease, such as phocine distemper virus.

Enrichment Notebook

 As was mentioned, one of the biggest challenges of providing enrichment is keeping it fresh and constantly coming up with new ideas.  For animals that are very active and intelligent and go through enrichment quickly, it can be a challenge coming up with new ideas... especially if you actually want ideas that the animals will use, and aren't just doing something to check a box.  Fortunately, we are part of a great zookeeping community that works well at providing ideas.  

The American Association of Zookeepers produces an "Enrichment Notebook" - originally sold as a book, now in electronic format - which serves as a list of ideas for enriching various species.  The notebook can be obtained through their website - but if you don't find the answers that you're looking for there, and maybe have more specific questions about unique situations (What enrichment for a blind otter?  What enrichment for a leopard who is afraid of everything?), that's where the many zookeeper facebook groups, listservs, and chat pages come in handy.

Different keepers from different zoos coming together allows for the exchange of ideas for enrichment - and when that happens, the animals are the winners.

Step by Step Enrichment

Every behavior that an animal engages in typically consists of a string of several small behaviors, which run together, one into the next.  Those behavioral strings may vary from species to species, which implications for how enrichment is provided in order to replicate those behaviors.  

For example, both lions and spotted hyenas are African savannah predators which hunt, often in groups, often the same species of mid-sized or large ungulates.  The actual hunting behavior differs between the two in some areas, however.  Both species begin the hunt by rallying the group into action, going off in search of prey (which may be found through some combination of sight, sound, and smell.  Lions, however, will capture their prey by stalking as close as possible, making a brief rush or pounce, and then subduing their prey, whereas the hyenas will run it down, sometimes chasing it for some distance.  When the prey is killed, hyenas will also use their powerful jaws to crush large bones to consumes.  Ideally, enrichment for hyenas would encourage more running, chasing behavior than lion enrichment might (with lion enrichment promoting stalking and pouncing), and hyena diets would be presented in a manner that would encourage cracking bones.

I recall a presentation I saw from keepers at Disney's Animal Kingdom and Lodge with enrichment for their Abyssinian ground hornbills.  In the wild, these turkey-sized grassland birds eat all sorts of small animals, including small tortoises.  Now, Disney wasn't about to feed their birds live tortoises, nor was their a supply of frozen/thawed ones to be had.  Instead, they manufactured little hard-baked "clay tortoises" with meatballs inside.  The hornbills had to find the "tortoises" (as they would searching in the tall grass on the savannah), pick them up, and then figure out how to break the hard shell, and then extract the meat inside.  Each action contributed to the overall complexity and engagement of the enrichment.

From: Disney's Animals, Sciences, and Environment facebook page.

When you watch an animal in the wild, note all of the steps to its behavior.  Even seemingly simple behaviors usually have multiple components, each one necessary for the successful completion of the action.  Observing and understanding the importance of each of those behaviors can give zoo staff better ability to allow the animals to express those behaviors in a managed setting - and breaking the more complex behaviors into pieces make them much easier to plan on how to replicate.

Inspiring the Next Level of Enrichment Development, by Michelle Skurski, Angela Miller, Christy Alligood

Enrichment at Oregon Zoo

What a difference a few decades can make... Dr. Hal Markowitz was eventually ousted from his position at the Oregon Zoo because of disputes with management over the balance between enrichment and naturalism.  Naturalism, at the time, was seen as the priority.  I'm sure it was a great source of satisfaction later in his career to see so many zoos, including his former employer, now embracing enrichment so wholeheartedly - with more of a focus on behavioral results than aesthetics (but, wherever possible, trying to encompass both).

Zoo History: Markowitz and His Machines

"Hal argued that an unnatural stimulus is better than a natural environment with no stimulation."

- Autumn Sorrells

There once was a young engineer, who went to work for an aircraft company.  Early in his career, he reported to his superiors his concern about a broken component on an airplane.  Those concerns were dismissed, the airplane was launched, and people died.  The tragedy so devastated the young engineer that he left the company, going off to study psychology instead.  Out of such a tragic event the zoo field gained one of the most brilliant, influential, controversial, and eccentric minds of the late twentieth century.

Hal Markowitz went on to study at Oregon State University, where his research eventually led him to work with the seals at the Washington Park Zoo, which is now called the Oregon Zoo.  The 1970s were the early days of behavioral enrichment in zoos, and Markowitz found himself at the front of the new field.  He was able to combine his twin areas of expertise - psychology and engineering - to device a series of contraptions to provide mental and physical stimulation for the animals at the zoo.  Soon, he held the position of Director of Education and Research.  

In one such set-up, Markowitz took on the challenge of the zoo's gibbons, apes which are highly arboreal in their wild state, but tended to spend a lot of time on the ground in the then-sterile zoo exhibit.   And so a system was contrived to encourage the apes to climb and swing.  When a light flashed in the exhibit, a gibbon would activate a lever on one side of the exhibit, then swing across to the other side of the exhibit in time to receive a food reward.  Sometimes, one gibbon would observe the other gibbon about to pull the lever, and then position itself at the far end of the exhibit to snatch the food as soon as it was dispensed, before the gibbon who actually "earned" it could arrive, but that just posed an additional mental challenge for the gibbons, as they had to plan on when to activate the lever so that no one could steal the food.  Markowitz later modified the exhibit into a coin-operated machine that the public could activate, which raised thousands of dollars for the zoo.  

In another exhibit, polar bears could growl into a microphone, which would cause a fish to be launched into the pool.  Again, some bears learned how to cheat the system, modifications were made to encourage fairer access to food.  At another exhibit still, monkeys could earn poker chips, which could be put into slots to result in food being dispensed, like a vending machine.  Components from a carwash were reconfigured at the elephant exhibit to let the pachyderms give themselves showers whenever they so desired by pulling a chain.

Markowitz claimed that his machines provided physical and mental exercise for the animals.  Critics claimed that they just became tricks for the animals to perform, and some of the behaviors expressed were unnatural, either in their nature (i.e., poker chips for primates) or their frequency (big cats could hunt far more often chasing robot lures than they would in the wild).  As with many tech developments, these machines were expensive, time consuming to maintain, and sometimes unreliable.  Sometimes, animals figured out how to cheat the machines, in some cases resulting the endless distribution of food from blocked sensors.  

The leading critique, however, was one of aesthetics.  Enrichment was making the scene right around the time that many zoos were working on redeveloping their exhibits to look natural (if not yet extending that to exhibits that would actually promote natural behaviors), and the thought was that these confounded contraptions took away from the natural look.  As Markowitz developed his machines, he began to tailor them to look more naturalistic, helping to reduce criticism on that front.  

It can be said that the sign of true philosophical success is when ideas that were once considered revolutionary and now accepted as obvious and commonplace.  Dr. Hal Markowitz passed away in September 2012.  By the time of his death, he could take satisfaction in knowing that behavioral enrichment is now considered one of the key pillars of zoo animal husbandry for virtually all species, including many that he hadn't even considered as candidates early in his career.  Many zoo exhibits are now being built with features reminiscent of those designed by Dr. Markowitz.

Episode of "Animal Concepts" with memories of Dr. Hal Markowtiz

Enrichment for Dummies

 If many visitors at our zoo were baffled by the sight of a bison playing with a ball, they weren't in the worst of company.  We had, after all, given them the ball in hopes of making the toy more appealing to the jaguars, not because we thought the bison would really enjoy it.  This was in the days when enrichment was first starting to creep into the zoo, and the consensus was that the priority was providing it for the animals that appeared more... well... intellectually gifted.  Primates.  Parrots.  Carnivores. Not glorified cows.  Likewise, enrichment and training were seen as the domain of the fancy new educated keepers, not the so-called animal janitors who proceeded them.

In the decades that have followed, our understanding of what enrichment is and how it benefits animals has changed tremendously.  When we the concept was first presented to keepers, it was a simplified version of "toys for animals."  At the time, enrichment was seen as an "extra" part of the job (training was, too), so we had to prioritize who got it, fitting it in around the more established priorities of feeding, cleaning, and exhibit maintenance.  There were some animals that it was thought just wouldn't benefit from it.  More than that, there was a thought held by many that prey species, such as ungulates, macropods, and many birds, would be stressed out by enrichment, and would better be served by largely being left alone.

We now have a broader definition of enrichment, one that is less focused on objects (read: toys, or, if you're uncharitable, as many of my older colleagues were, trash), and more focused on behavior.  The goal is to try to allow every animal to live a life that allows for the expression of as many natural behaviors as possible.  Bison, obviously, do not play with big plastic balls on the Great Plains.  What they do do, however - especially males - is spar to establish their place in a herd and access to females.  We only had one male bison at our zoo, but the ball gave him an outlet for that behavior, something to butt up against and toss around and exercise those behavioral and physical muscles in that way.

Similarly, bison dust bathe a lot in the wild - they actually change the landscape by forming wallows and indentations in the ground, so enrichment might look like managing the exhibit to provide areas for that behavior.  Or, it might mean providing scratching posts to allow bison to rub off their winter coat as the seasons change.  It might be introducing rolls of sod for grazing, or changing the diet to reflect seasonal changes, just as animals in migration with the seasons might experience.

The secret to enrichment isn't to just provide something that you might find interesting yourself, or what you think your USDA inspector wants to see.  It's to put yourself in the paws or hooves of your animal, to ask yourself what sort of behavior it would be engaging in if it were in the wild.  Sometimes, it's an easy fix - dirt for digging animals, water for swimming animals, etc.  Sometimes it can take a little more creativity.  We can't throw live ungulates to the big cats and wolves, for example, but we can find other ways to replicate those behaviors - searching, chasing, grappling, tearing.  

So every animal is enrichable.  Even the "dumb" ones.  And every keeper can do enrichment.  Even the "dumb" ones.

The Bison's Egg

The jaguars at our zoo proved to be remarkably difficult animals to enrich.  Having gone much of their early lives without enrichment, they fell into the mindset that anything placed in their exhibit with them was food, and therefore tried to eat every toy that they were given.  To prevent this from happening, the zoo purchased the biggest, hardest ball that could be found, three feet in diameter, secure in knowledge that the cats wouldn't be able to damage it.  Nor were they able to - the problem was, they also didn't interact with it at all.  One keeper hit upon the idea of giving the ball to the bison for a few days, letting them get their scent on it, and then giving it back to the jaguars, hoping that they'd now be more interested.

It was a solid plan.  But the ball never made it back to the jaguars.  Our male bison fell in love with it, and we never had the heart to take it away.

He would play with it for hours at a time, using his massive head to knock it around his yard until the exhibit was criss-crossed with the ruts the ball and had in its frequent trips around the habitat.   We used to joke that the most dangerous place to be in the entire zoo wasn't in with the big cats or bears, but between the bull bison and his ball.  Sometimes he gave it a little push.  Sometimes, he would absolutely whack it, and it would hit a fence and ricochet, or sometimes clear the moat and land outside of the exhibit.  When this happened, he would pace frantically along the fenceline, as close as he could get to his beloved ball, until one of us would come down and (laboriously) toss it back to him.  Once, I threw it back over to him, only for him to knock it it straight back to me, sending me sprawling on the pavement.  

At night, he always slept next to it.

For some reason, the members of the public never could quite make sense of the bison's attachment to the ball.  Surely, I thought, many of them had pets who had a favorite toy, so why couldn't they understand that this animal had one also?  Maybe in their minds bison were too stupid, too simple to enjoy a toy.  Instead, many of them, independently, decided that the bison was a female, and the ball was "her" egg.  Sure, it may have been ridiculously out of proportion for it - it would have been like a chicken lying an egg the size of a grapefruit.  Observant visitors may have noticed the lettering etched on the side of the "egg."  And surely no mother would knock her egg around quite like this?  Still, the story persisted, and people seemed incredulous to learn that it was just a favorite toy.

When the old male bison eventually passed, we had a spirited discussion about burying the ball with him - none of the other bison seemed nearly as attached to it or as interested in it as he was, probably because he never had let them even touch it before.

Keepers often form special bonds with their animals, which can be beautiful things that I've written about here before.  There are, of course, also the bonds that the animals form with each other.  Sometimes, relations form between animals and visitors.  But so far, I don't think I've seen a love affair at a zoo quite like this bison and his ball.

Zoo Review: Little Rock Zoo, Part II

Continuing the tour of the Little Rock Zoo, we come to a set of grottos very similar to those described for the bear and otter exhibits in yesterday's post.  These, however, are smaller and are mesh-fronted, as opposed to moated, and house smaller carnivores still.  Red and gray foxes, small felids, and fossa can be be seen in these, to be frank, serviceable by somewhat unimpressive habitats.  A yard for muntjac is also found here.

Down the path is the Arkansas Heritage Farm, an attractive children zoo area that features an assortment of domestic animals.  Tucked away in this area is one of the unexpected unique features of the zoo, an indoor/outdoor exhibit for ringtails.  These raccoon-like nocturnal mammals are native to Arkansas, so their inclusion in this area makes sense (many zoos feature small native species in their farm areas), but the exhibit is larger and more elaborate than I usually see for this species (on the infrequent occasions when I see them at all).  Also nearby is a large waterfowl pond that includes Chilean flamingos and a paddock for giant Aldabra tortoises.

The zoo's largest animals are found across the path in the Asian elephant exhibit.  I have no idea what Little Rock's long-term plans for elephants are - the herd at the time of my visit consisted of a few older females, so I have a suspicion that these may be the last members of their species to be housed here.  The exhibit was fairly plan but satisfactory for the needs of the animals, but with the constantly increasing standards for elephant husbandry, and with the relatively limited footprint of the zoo, I have a hard time imagining their being much of a future for elephants here.  The zoo's old carnivore house is adjacent to the elephant exhibit, and has been refurbished as a café that retains the old charm and historic character of its former incarnation (similar to what Toledo Zoo has done).

The zoo's primary indoor exhibit is the Aviary, Reptile, and Primate building.  The primates are represented with a few wire-fronted outdoor/indoor exhibits for smaller New World primates, and probably won't excite too many folks, and look like they could probably use a refresh... if not a pull-down and rebuild from scratch.  (More interesting for connoisseurs of unusual species is the small building located nearby that houses pygmy slow lorises in one of the larger exhibits I've ever seen for that species.  The birds are represented in a walk-through indoor aviary, featuring many of the usual suspects of such exhibits.  The reptile and amphibian collection takes up the lion's share of the building in a few hallways, with a fairly decent collection.  As with any reptile house in the US South, on a busy day you can expect to hear many parents helpfully pointing out every snake they see to their children and making comments to the effect of "the only good snake is a dead snake."  It's unavoidable.  There is an outdoor adjacent exhibit for American alligators; Komodo dragons were slated to be added in a nearby habitat at the time of my visit.

More primates can be seen in the great ape habitats, large, grassy yards for gorillas, chimpanzees, and Bornean orangutans.  These exhibits reminded me of the previously-seen big cat exhibits.  They're nice enough, but not terribly unique or exciting if you've seen many other exhibits for these species.  Rounding out the zoo is Penguin Point, for African penguins (completely enclosed, which many penguin exhibits are not - though I did not see any other bird species sharing the exhibit with them - seems like a missed opportunity), a mixed lemur exhibit, a lorikeet feeding aviary, and a pretty cool outdoor habitat for eastern collared lizards outside of the conservation center, highlighting another local species.  

Little Rock has had plans for renovation and redevelopment for some time, but they've always tended to stall or fizzle out.  It's municipal management, combined with being the only real zoo in the state, seem to have lulled the place into a sense of complacency.   Hopefully the new Komodo exhibit - and the eventual need to do something about the elephant situation - will spur the zoo into action to look towards the future.  It's a pleasant facility with an interesting collection, and the historic architecture is of interest to a zoo enthusiast, and some of the exhibits are unique for their species - ringtail, loris, collared lizard.  Right now, though, you just get the sense of stagnation, when there is so much that could be done with the space and the animals. 

As a final note, this facility could easily be combined with a visit to the Arkansas Fish and Game Commission Nature Center and Aquarium, located in an attractive park on the riverfront and housing a small but interesting collection of native fish and herps, as well as other educational displays.

Zoo Review: Little Rock Zoo, Part I

Turning 100 years old next year, the Little Rock Zoo is the only zoo of any particular size or significance in Arkansas.  Much of the existing zoo was built almost simultaneously by the WPA as part of the New Deal, which has the advantage of giving much of the zoo a uniform look and feel, even if some of the older enclosures now appear somewhat outdated, while having the disadvantage of being historic.  The campus is not especially large (33 acres), but still holds a large collection of diverse species.

Upon entering the zoo, visitors may be lured down a winding path through a series of open paddocks, which house a variety of animals with no particular geographic grouping.  Island habitats for siamangs are followed by enclosures for giant anteater, Indian crested porcupine, Chacoan peccary, maned wolf, duikers, and red river hogs.  A few species of tall savannah birds - southern ground hornbill, cranes, and secretarybird - can also be found here.  These are pleasant, simple exhibits of decent size and furnishing, holding species which will be of interest to many zoo enthusiasts, but perhaps glanced over quickly by guests that aren't as interested in animals that they haven't heard of before.

The path then enters the Cheetah Outpost, which serves as sort of a gateway to the zoo's African Savannah section (if not for the intrusion of some Asian and South American species, I guess you could consider the yards that were passed to get her part of the savannah as well).  Inside the building are naked mole rats, along with a few terrariums of smaller African reptiles.  The building provides overviews of a spacious cheetah savannah, which in turn abuts against a grassland habitat for ostrich, plains zebra, and wildebeest.  Across the path is a mesh-enclosed primate exhibit, home to Angolan colobus and spot-nosed guenons, as well as a paddock for black rhino.  

A path looping off from the cheetahs leads to a trio of open-topped big cat yards.  These exhibits are decently large and well-furnished, if not the most exciting I've ever seen.  Well, two of them aren't that exciting, at any rate.  One is for the lions, one for the tigers, and the third is only the second open-topped jaguar exhibit I've ever seen in an American zoo.  And unlike that other exhibit, this habitat has a large tree in the middle of it, and I was, for the first time in a lifetime of seeing jaguars in zoos and several years as a jaguar keeper, looking up at a jaguar over my head, with only air in between us.  A few small cat habitats are nearby.

The zoo's weakest point is probably a set of rockwork-backed grottos, set in a circle, which traditionally were the bear dens.  One of these is still used for bears - sloth bears, to be precise - and may be the weakest exhibit I've seen for this species in an AZA zoo (but by no means the worst bear exhibit I've ever seen).  As for the other exhibits, the zoo has responded in a fairly sensible manner by using those exhibits for animals considerably smaller than bears.  Two yards hold two species of otters - North American, and the rarely-exhibit spotted-necked otter of Africa, while another holds bush dog, charismatic little South American canines that are seen at very few US zoos.

Tomorrow, we'll continue our exploration of the Little Rock Zoo

Little Rock Zoo

The Spice Rack

Every year, around Christmastime, my wife and I go to visit her family in the city where she originally comes from.  This trip is usually associated with some last minute Christmas shopping, and one place that we always, 100% of the time, visit is a spice store that she loves.  Every wall is lined with tiny little jars, some of them very familiar - cinnamon, oregano, curry powder - some of them less so, more exotic spices, or specialty blends of the store.  Whenever we leave, I always find myself wishing that I could just grab a few samples of the stranger ones - but not for me.

One of the simplest, most basic enrichment opportunities is olfactory enrichment, or introducing novel scents to a habitat.  It's appeal varies across taxa.   Most birds, for example, are not going to respond too strongly to it, if at all (though the olfactory ability of many birds is something that appears to have been underestimated).  For more nose-centric animals, such as wolves and other canines, scent can be a delightful treat.  

Reactions to different smells vary.  Anise is said to have an impact on dogs similar to what catnip has on cats.  Some keepers can be a bit lazy with enrichment and just sprinkle some spice in a corner, and then consider that enrichment box checked for the day.  Like any enrichment, the secret is to keep things novel and not use the same scent daily (at least I assume so - there are some spices that I could happily smell all day, every day, others I could leave on the shelf and never miss) - hence my fascination with the variety seen at the spice store.  

Spices aren't the only olfactory option, of course - there are perfumes (best used in moderation, in well-ventilated areas), extracts, and even scent from other animals, vet approved, of course.  I know of one zoo that had a rabbit that used to be brought into the jaguar exhibit, while the cat was locked up in holding, of course, and allowed to hop around while the keepers cleaned.  When they were done, the rabbit was removed, and the jaguar had an interesting scent trail to follow.  I often wonder what the frequent smell of jaguar did to that rabbit...

Scent can also be incorporated with other enrichment objects.  You can spritz some extract on a boomer ball, for example, to encourage the animal to investigate it.  In doing so, it will probably move the toy around, and that initial motion will usually encourage the animal to continue batting it around.  The best enrichment, I find, is one that incorporates a lot of different senses and different activities, so there's really nothing that can't be improved with a little scent added.  A well-stocked spice rack, I would say, is an essential component of any enrichment workshop.

What's The Worst That Could Happen?

In recent years, enrichment has gone from a quirky, obscure obsession of a few keepers to a standard practice at most accredited zoos.  It also has the potential to be one of the scariest.  That's because enrichment usually consists of introducing novel stimuli and objects to an animal in its enclosure in order to encourage a reaction - and you can't always be sure that the reaction will be a good one.

There have been so many days when I have given animals enrichment, than woken up in the middle of the night with the horrified feeling that I might have made a major mistake.  I haven’t lost an animal to enrichment yet, but I do have an endless, imaginative inventory of ways that I could…

The animal will get a rope or cable around its neck and strangle itself...

The toy will shatter and the animal will stab itself in the heart... 

The animal will try to eat the toy and choke to death... 

The toy will clog up the exhibit pool’s drain and the pool will overflow and the animal will escape/drown/catch a cold... 

The animal will throw a toy through a window and escape...

This last one did give me serious concern as I watched a young bear repeatedly pick up a bowling ball in her front paws and hurl it around the exhibit.  I was able to get it away from her before she threw it through the window.

On another occasion, I spritzed some perfume on the branches of an indoor tamarin enclosure.  Immediately upon letting the monkeys back in, I became convinced that the perfume was too strong and that the monkeys would all die of some wonky fumes.  I spent the next hour holding the door to their building open to try and air it out, fanning their exhibit frantically.  The tamarins seemed more concerned about my bizarre antics than they did the lemon scented perfume.

Given the risks (and the sleepless nights) is it worth it?  I like to think so.  If we wanted to keep the animals as safe as possible, we would just put them in plastic bubbles or in padded rooms… which in turn would drive them crazy from boredom and cause them to hurt themselves (which would defeat the purpose of said bubble/padded room).  Even without enrichment, animals could drown in pools or fall from climbing structures.

"Hey, I bet if we climb just a little bit higher and then pretend that we're about to fall, we can make one of the keepers have a heart attack or pee themself!"

We try to reduce the risks of enrichment to the best of our ability.  We have approval policies to make sure that enrichment is safe (aka, no razor blades for the monkeys…).  We base enrichment off of what has worked in the past, either at our own institutions or at other facilities.  We have lists of toxic browse vs. safe.  We observe and monitor and evaluate new enrichments.  We do our best.

Species Fact Profile: Bongo (Tragelaphus eurycerus)

                                                                      Bongo

                                               Tragelaphus eurycerus (Ogilby, 1837)

Range: Central Africa (northern Democratic Republic of Congo and adjacent countries) with additional, isolated populations in Kenya, western Africa

Habitat: Dense tropical forest with dense undergrowth, up to 4,300 meters elevation.  Often absent from forest with too dense of canopy, as this doesn’t allow enough undergrowth

Diet: Leaves, Bushes, Vines, Bark, Pith, Grasses, Root, and Fruits

Social Grouping: Solitary, Pairs, Small Herds

Reproduction: Females come into estrus every 21-22 days for 3 days.  Males follow receptive females with outstretched neck, making soft vocalizations.  Single calf (twins rare) born after 9-month gestation period, weaned at 6 months.  Sexually mature at 20 months.  Calves are left hidden in undergrowth after birth, visited periodically by mother

Lifespan: 20-25 Years

      Conservation Status: IUCN Near Threatened, CITES Appendix III 

• Largest African forest antelope.  Body length 170-250 centimeters.  Shoulder height 110-130 centimeters.  Tail 45-65 centimeters.  Weight 240-400 kilograms.  Males up to twice the size of females.  Proportionately shorter legs than many other African antelopes.  Prehensile tongue
• Short, glossy coat is red-chestnut in color, growing darker in older males, with 10-15 vertical white stripes on the torso.  Muzzle is black, with white spots on the cheeks and white chevron between the eyes.  Ears are rimmed with white, legs patterned with red, white, and black.  Pigmentation in fur rubs off quite easily, can tint rain falling off the animal or stain vegetation as they walk through the forest
• Both sexes have horns (usually thinner, longer, and straighter in females) with a single turn 75-100 centimeters long.  When fleeing, horns are held against the back of the neck to prevent getting entangled in vegetation; many older animals have bare patches on their backs from this
• More social than most forest antelope.  Can occur at population densities of 1.2 per square kilometer.  Adult males tend to avoid one another, but may spar, though rarely seriously, instead using intimidation to drive off rivals.
• Most active at night, as well as dawn and dusk.  Very timid and easily frightened.  Frequently wallow in mud, afterwards rubbing horns against trees.
• Predators include leopards (primary predator) and lions and hyenas in more open country, with large pythons preying on calves.  Bongos best defenses is to blend into the forest; they are slow runners on open ground.  Bongos pursued by cursorial predators may enter shallow water and turn to face their enemies.
• Sometimes raid gardens or plantations to feed on crops.  Primarily browsers, but will also graze.  Known to regularly visit salt licks and to eat burnt wood as sources of minerals.
• Genus name from the Greek Tragos (goat) and elaphos (deer), species name from Eurus (broad) and keras (horn).  Common name is the indigenous name for the species (Kele of Gabon).  Sometimes placed in its own genus, Boocercus (generally not recognized).  
• Two subspecies currently recognized – the eastern, or mountain bongo (T. e. isaaci) and the western, or lowland bongo (nominate), with the possibility that the western populations (divided into Central and West African) may be separate subspecies.  Eastern subspecies is kept in US zoos.
• Threats include hunting (especially using dogs) and loss of habitat to deforestation.  Traditionally were not a preferred prey species, but in recent years more demand from trophy hunters, as well as entrapment in snares set for other species.  Decline in some areas may also be driven by diseases introduced from domestic livestock, such as rinderpest.
• Embryos of bongos have been planted in closely related eland as part of zoo experimentation with assisted reproduction

Brother, Can You Spare a Guinea Pig?

Denmark zoo askes people to donate unwanted pets to feed predators and imitate 'natural food chain' 

"A zoo in northern Denmark is asking pet owners to donate their unwanted guinea pigs, rabbits, chickens, and even small horses - not to put them on display but to geed them to the zoo's predators."

Denmark strikes again!  The same tiny Scandinavian nation that rocked the zoo world with controversy following the euthanasia of a surplus male giraffe is now making waves after international media caught wind of this story.  Granted, it's been sensationalized six-ways-to-Sunday, and some people are walking away with the idea that the zoo wants them to bring their cats and dogs, which will then be unceremoniously lobbed into the lion's den.  It kind of harkens back to the memories of the Tower of London menagerie centuries ago, when visitors who brought a small pet to feed the carnivores would have their admission fee waived.

Feeding whole prey is a common practice at many zoos, and Aalborg (the zoo in question) has been doing it for years, as have many others.  It's good enrichment and promotes more natural feeding behavior and better health than a mix of ground meat served in a metal bowl.  In this case, instead of buying the animals themselves, they are asking if any members of the public have animals that would be put down anyway - say, a backyard breeder who is getting out of chickens, for example - and give them to the zoo to euthanize and feed out instead.  I can't fault the logic.

But I don't know... sometimes (I felt this after the giraffe, and I feel this now) it seems like the Danish zoos kind of enjoy stirring the pot.  They know that headlines like this get a lot of attention and stir a lot of drama and controversy; I can't imagine that they didn't know how this would play in the media.  Which hey, if they want to play "Edgelord of the Zoo," more power to them - it's just that the rest of us get roped into this, and we have folks worried that we're going to snatch their chihuahua-terrier mixes out of their arms to feed them to the big cats and wolves.

Novel Experience

When I started working at one new zoo, the enrichment program was nascent, and mostly focused on the primates - which I did not work with as the primary keeper.  I did work with a pair of river otters - very active, intelligent, curious animals, who seemed like they would be prime candidates to benefit from enrichment.  And so one day, I took a plastic water cooler jug and put a few of their smaller fish (frozen/thawed, not live) in it, then tossed it into their pool.  The otters had a great time swimming around it and trying to dislodge the fish.  It was a hit with them, and the visitors, and other staff noticed.  Soon, it seemed like every time that the otters were getting fed by other keepers, half of their fish were being put into the jug and tossed into the pool.

What started as a surprising and interesting challenge for the otters became commonplace, routine.  They perfected their ability to retrieve the fish, until they were soon doing it so fast that it added almost no time to their feedings.  To be honest, they eventually seemed bored with it.

The novelty had worn off.  

One of the biggest challenges in enrichment is that even the most fun and engaging enrichment will gradually lose its novelty and become too easily solved, or lose interest to the animal.  For many active, intelligent species, there is a constant need to expand the enrichment portfolio, to come up with new options to add to the rotation so that the animals continue to remain engaged.  It can be tricky, because, as with my otters and their water jug, you sometimes come across something which initially seems perfect - fast and easy to set up, inexpensive, enjoyed by the animal - and then run into the temptation of just using that as your go-to enrichment, time after time.  Why risk doing something new that might be time or resource expensive when you have a tried and true?  And yes, some of the new enrichment ideas you try will be duds that the animal ignores or doesn't like.  There's a lot of trial and error involved.

But, that said, not every day in the life of an animal in the wild is perfect - there are days of frustration and disappointment there too, when things don't work out as the animal intended.  And so I worked to add new enrichment ideas constantly for the otters, noting which ones seemed to work and which ones didn't - and I tried not to give up on the ones that didn't work just based on one flop - sometimes it took two or three exposures for the otters to decide that they were into it. 

We still kept the jug in the rotation, of course - it's just that they got it maybe once every two weeks, instead of daily.  Also, I'd try added some variation to it - sink it to the bottom of the pool first, or plug the opening so they'd have to pry it open, or things like that.  Having their original toy once in a while, instead of daily, helped keep things more interesting for the animals - and, I admit, for me.

Satire: Enriching Animals, Saving Money

 From the 1976 Weird Humor comic, Plop

Evolving Enrichment

I was just starting to enter the field when the concept of behavioral enrichment - providing animals with stimuli to encourage their physical and psychological health - was just starting to catch on.  At the time, a lot of the older keepers scoffed at it, and many of them didn't bother to do it, even when the task was assigned.  To them, providing enrichment was giving the animals fake-looking toys that made an exhibit look trashy at best, and at worst gave the impression that the animals were pets.

From novelty, the next stage in the evolution of enrichment during my career was that it was a regulatory box that needed to checked, something that we at least said that we were going to do to satisfy the inspecting authorities.  Someone would put a bowling ball in with a tamarin, and the tamarin would just look at you, as if asking, "Now exactly what am I supposed to be doing with this?"  At one unaccredited facility that I worked at, our curator would frantically start filling out fake enrichment forms as soon as the front gate told her that USDA was there for a surprise inspection.  (At the time, primates were the one group of animals that USDA required enrichment for - and documentation thereof).  I looked over these forms once (when she carelessly left them out - we weren't supposed to see them) and was baffled at how detailed, tedious, and, above all, divorced from reality they were.  It seemed to me that it would have been less work to just... give the monkeys actual enrichment.

There then came a time in my career when enrichment seemed to be the key concept, and everything was focused around enrichment.  I worked with plenty of keepers in those days who turned their noses up at feeding and cleaning and other "chores" - they just wanted to do enrichment and training.  There were days when I'd see them working for hours on a piece of enrichment - only for the animal to ignore it, or solve the puzzle feeder and be done with it in ten minutes.  It reminded me of kids of Christmas morning, opening an expensive present but spending more time playing with the box.  It seemed like every question on a listserv was about enrichment, and there were three or four new enrichment workshops hosted every year, with focus on making it look natural and last longer and promote a wider range of behaviors.  At times, it seemed like some people thought that the only reason that we had animals in zoos was to provide them with enrichment, with conservation and education being unintended side-effects.  

Which is not to say that I don't appreciate the benefits of enrichment for animals.  I spent a lot of my career especially focused on how to provide enrichment for the animals in our collection that weren't receiving any - the focus generally being on primates and carnivores.  It's just that I've come to see enrichment's importance as being supplementary, rather than essential.   I'd rather put more focus on the animal's habitat - that's where they live and spend all of their time, and that should be their main source of enrichment.  Because enrichment isn't about toys - it's about stimulation and choice, and that's what the habitat provides in the wild, and that's what we should strive for it to be in the zoo.

Ideal enrichment is a habitat large enough and complex enough to allow the animal to make basic choices and express a variety of natural behaviors.  It looks like an appropriate social group, a diet that, where possible, natural feeding behavior is promoted, and, when possible, the chance to breed and rear their offspring.  Sometimes it may be stressful, confusing, or potentially even frightening - but so is life in the wild.