Sadie and the boys
24 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Russia's Grizzly Coast Tags: bears
I got to walk the Northern Trail yesterday under balmy conditions: my head comfortably bare, the sunshine slipping flirtatiously in and out from behind its cover of cloud. But I never expected to see the bears up and about. They spend most of the winter asleep in a furry pile, mimicking the deeper dormancy they’d experience in the wild. And year-round, they’re usually napping at noon. But heading into Grizzly Coat around 12:15, I was delighted to see Haines and Kenai wrassling in the pool, just like the old days. That’s usually the best thing you see at the bear exhibit, but yesterday it got even better.
Sadie, our lone girl bear, likes to stay dry; I’ve seen her in the pool just twice, on beastly hot summer days. Various outdated human female stereotypes apply to her: She’s shy and retiring and doesn’t like to roughhouse; unlike the boys, she doesn’t like to step on the scale, even though she weighed in last time at a svelte 530 pounds, or 300 pounds lighter than Haines. Here she’s pondering a dip, or just hoping Kenai chases a fish her way so she can catch it from land (fellow volunteers tell me this has happened before). Some human boys came by and started egging her on — “Go on, go in!” — but to no avail.
She didn’t obey them, but she bonded with them anyway. The fascination seemed mutual. When I told them she was a girl bear, one of the boys stroked the glass that divided him from her fur and murmured, “Good girl.”
Lots of human-to-human bonding happens at the bear exhibit, too. Yesterday I got to talking with Jen, a visitor from Rhode Island who twice spoke the zoo-related words that warm volunteers’ hearts: “You have such a beautiful facility here!” Not only was she in town applying for an education job, but she had worked at the Alaska Sealife Center several years ago when our Grizzly Coast sea otter Capers was staying there as a newly rescued pup. I wished her luck in getting the job and hoped that if she did, she would join the volunteer ranks on weekends. There’s always room for another enthusiast.
Remembering Taijah
10 Feb 2012 1 Comment
in Discovery Bay Tags: dolphins
Atlantic bottlenose dolphins can occasionally live 50 years but have an average lifespan of 25. Just half of all calves reach their first birthday, in aquariums and oceans alike. At the Minnesota Zoo, where dolphin Semo is cruising toward the 50-year mark with astonishing verve, his daughter Taijah made it to 18 months. Despite the odds, her death from a sudden illness Monday night shocked everyone who knew her. I hesitate to write about it here; local media have covered it thoroughly, and I like to keep this blog a happy place. But leaving it out feels dishonest. And while part of me felt anxious about coming to the zoo yesterday — I worried I might cry a little if a guest asked me about the death — the day turned out to have a surprising amount of light in it.
Here’s Taijah with trainer Robyn nearly a year ago, in a shape-training session I wrote about at the time. (And if this scene doesn’t prove that dolphins and humans should know each other, nothing does.) I have a soft spot for Robyn, who gently guided and supervised my hands-on encounter with Semo a year before that. I’ve been trying not to imagine the magnitude of the trainers’ hurt this week. Yesterday, I wondered whether it was appropriate to reach out to a trainer if I happened to see one. I did not see one, though; the dolphin stadium remained temporarily closed, shielding Semo and Allie and their trainers from the world, while life continued to surge all around it. The day was warmish (for February) and brilliantly sunny. Discovery Bay teemed with rambunctious school groups. When I moved on to Tropics, the sun filtered through the skylights and brightened the foliage. Surprisingly, a service dog accompanied two women on the trail — only the second or third “civilian” canine I’ve ever seen at the zoo. She was a magnificent long-coated German shepherd who, I’m told, greatly intrigued the DeBrazza’s monkeys when they saw her through their exhibit window. For some reason, a young girl insisted on taking my picture by the gibbon exhibit. Farther along, the tapirs were licking each other’s long snouts before they decided to go for a swim together. And I was happy at the zoo, as I nearly always am, even as my heart continued to ache a little. I won’t forget Taijah, and I’m sorry we lost her so soon.
Bearcat fever
03 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
After witnessing eight years of various annual language days at the zoo, I’ve concluded that Chinese Day is more subdued than Spanish Day, though just as fun. (And the fun continues: French and German days are coming up next week.) Yesterday, the usual packs of high-schoolers came to the zoo, setting up species-specific booths along the trails and sharing animal facts in Chinese. The Tropics trail, still primarily a home for Asian animals with some African and South American exhibits in the mix, was especially fertile ground for the teens. They set up booths by the lemur and Komodo dragon exhibits, and informative Chinese lettering showed up other places, too.
Farther along the trail, I saw the most amazing Asian sight of all: not one but two binturongs, or Asian bearcats, prowling around the tapir exhibit — yet another newish pair of potential breeding mammals this season.
This exhibit has always had at least one binturong, but in eight years I’ve only seen him or her curled up in a fuzzy blackish ball, usually in a tree, which is how they spend their days in the Southeast Asian wild. About a year ago, one of our bearcats surprised everyone by attempting an arboreal escape, which resulted in some tree-trimming. For a week or two afterward, a volunteer was scheduled to watch the animal’s movements, but those movements were few and far between, and I continued to consider the creature window-dressing for the tapir exhibit. Yesterday, even Bertie the tapir seemed intrigued by the sight of a binturong prowling so close to her head.
Related to civets, Asian bearcats weigh 20 to 30 pounds, with prehensile tails that are roughly as long as their bodies. The tails help them climb trees, and while they’re off-exhibit at the zoo, keepers sometimes encourage the bearcats to paint with their tails. (The bears of Russia’s Grizzly Coast also make modern art with watercolors provided by their keepers.) Aside from mating, binturongs prefer a solitary life , and my Big Binder of Zoo Facts calls them “very retiring” as well as nocturnal. At one point yesterday, when these two weren’t nose-to-nose or wandering along separately, one of them lifted a paw and lightly punched the other one in the face, two or three times. Whether this bodes well for breeding, I really couldn’t say.
The meatball bridge
17 Jan 2012 1 Comment
in Northern Trail Tags: dholes
The Martin Luther King holiday dawned sunny and mild, with temperatures climbing briefly into the 30s. My husband had yesterday off work and, incredibly, hadn’t seen the zoo since last summer’s renovations. So I took him on a two-hour tour of all the new stuff. He got a good glimpse of the shy new dark-gray wolf, and we lucked out even more when we arrived at the dhole exhibit.
Blyger and Prosit, the two boys from Sweden, have joined Piri and Fanni, the two girls from Hungary. As soon as we stopped on the viewing platform, a zookeeper came by to a conduct a canine-training session with meatballs and a whistle. He said he was “building a bridge” — by summoning the pack with his soft whistle and then tossing meatballs, he was teaching the dholes to associate the sound with obedience and reward. (A primary training goal: to get them to come off exhibit into their holding area at night, which apparently has been a bit of challenge these first few weeks.) Our friendly zookeeper also explained that this kind of training (also used with coyotes on the Minnesota Trail) was never conducted with Mexican gray wolves, the dholes’ predecessors in this space, because of U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service guidelines for their management — in a program geared toward eventual release into the wild, the wolves weren’t supposed to get too comfortable with people. These Asian canids don’t belong in the North American wild and would never be released there, so training helps them adjust to their permanent zoo home while keeping their minds active. Because they communicate with whistling sounds themselves, the zookeeper’s whistle must seem friendly and familiar to them. And for carnivores, it’s always more tempting to do as you’re asked when there’s a big juicy meatball waiting at the end.
The new guy: shades of gray
13 Jan 2012 Leave a Comment
in Minnesota Trail Tags: wolves
So yes, as I mentioned in last week’s post, a dark new gray wolf has come from Canada to live with the silver girl on the Minnesota Trail. I heard he was skittish and shy after barely a week in his new home, but I headed out in yesterday’s sudden shocking cold (from 50 degrees down to 10, in 48 hours) on the off-chance I might get a good look. Let’s see if I had any luck.
In that spacious exhibit with all those concealing trees, he was right by the window! I saw him before he saw me, and I edged slowly around the corner from the cabin-like viewing room to improve my vantage point. When our eyes first met, he showed his skittishness by leaping sideways and back a few paces. But then he staked out a spot and returned my gaze — until the silver girl came even closer and he transferred his serious gaze to her.
In the 1940s, wolves were so endangered that northern Minnesota was their only wild habitat in the lower 48 states. Last month, they made news again by coming off the threatened species list. (The Minnesota DNR details their return from federal to state management.) Of course, the world still needs wolf pups, and wolf-breeding season (late January to early March) is nearly upon us. I wrote all about Wolf Watch two years ago, when the silver girl was a 2-year-old living with a 12-year-old, and volunteers camped out with clipboards in the cabin-like viewing room, watching in half-hour shifts for signs of a May-December romance. That handsome old fellow has retired to a Michigan zoo, and the new dad-in-waiting is less than 2 years old himself. Like the silver girl in 2010, he might still be too young this year. But Wolf Watch resumes three days from now, and soon we’ll see if jet-black and silver-white shades of gray meet somewhere in the middle.
Chobby makes his move
06 Jan 2012 Leave a Comment
in Russia's Grizzly Coast Tags: leopards
It’s been two years since I’ve written here about Chobby, the male Amur leopard from the Czech Republic who had just joined two females in Grizzly Coast as a potential kitty daddy for his nearly extinct species. It’s been all quiet on the Chobby front since then, until he recently shifted into closer proximity to fellow leopard Polina. Murmurings since then suggested that Chobby was not entirely motivated on the reproduction front. In his defense, female Amur leopards spend only a week in heat each year, in January or February. For Polina, that week was this week, and starting Tuesday, Chobby figured it out.
Yesterday was Day 3 of frequent brief breeding episodes, as I learned over lunch in the volunteer lounge. Hurrying out to the exhibit, I passed fellow volunteer Bob, who said he’d just witnessed three quick encounters. A few minutes after arriving, I witnessed another. I discreetly confined my photos to “before” and “after” for reasons both obvious and complex (I was the lone human at the window just then, and leopards surely have no sense of intimate privacy, and it’s all just part of nature, and yet…). As anyone who’s seen cats mating can guess, this “immediately before” shot implies a tenderness that simply wasn’t there. About 10 seconds later, Chobby bared his teeth on Polina’s neck with a loud snarling growl, then stepped off and strutted away.
Here he is afterward at the smudged reflective window, looking mighty reflective himself. If this week’s activity pays off, Polina could give birth to 1 to 6 kittens after three months of gestation. It’s far too soon to know whether this will occur, of course.
While zoo felines were mating, two species of zoo canines were getting acquainted with future intended paramours during their own breeding season. Two male dholes from Sweden joined the females in the new Asian wild dog exhibit yesterday; one male trotted along the fence line with the two girls, approaching and retreating and, just once in my sight, flashing a momentary snarl. (Visually, the scene differed little from the photos in my previous post.) On the Minnesota Trail, a dark new male gray wolf from Canada joined our silvery female at the very back of their exhibit; through concealing trees, I caught glimpses of their contrasting fur as they circled and sniffed and frolicked a little. It was a day of record January warmth in some parts of Minnesota, and on these two zoo trails, the air felt warm with the possible promise of pups and cubs. But only time will tell.
New year’s dogs
01 Jan 2012 2 Comments
in Northern Trail Tags: dholes
I got a new camera for Christmas, the zoo just added a new species of wild dog on the Northern Trail, and now it’s a new year. The moment for my dhole post has arrived!
Two female Asian wild dogs, or dholes (rhymes with “holes”), came here from a zoo in Hungary and officially went public Friday in the former Mexican wolf exhibit. Unofficially, they were out there for a few hours Thursday, trotting around their new home, sniffing and making little squeaking noises. I hiked out to look at them — first from the cozy interior of the former wolf gazebo (now redesigned to resemble an Asian yurt), then from a new trailside viewing platform at the exhibit’s opposite edge.
Several guests stopped on the platform to check out the new canines. A child or two asked me if the dholes were foxes, which they clearly resemble. With their lean 45-pound frames and their springy gaits, these two girls remind me of my own petite female Belgian Malinois shepherd dog, who also weighs about 45 pounds, with a black and mahogany coat, and who frequently gets compared to a fox. But instead of the Malinois’ black face and ears, these canids have a bushy black tail– in fact, the puppies are entirely black at birth.
And puppies are part of the plan for this species, endangered throughout its range in Thailand, China, India and Russia. Two males are coming from a zoo in Sweden and will be introduced gradually to the girls, who turn 3 years old in the spring. Dholes have litters of up to 12 pups, so if even just one pair mates, family life in this exhibit could get very interesting.
Feathers on the walkway
23 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment
in Tropics Tags: birds & owls
I am not a patient person or a frequent birdwatcher. These two traits are directly related. On any given Thursday, I generally stride through the Tropics aviary with my eyes front and center, focused on my next destination. Last week, however, I froze in my tracks when confronted by a Malay great argus pheasant on the path.
This type of brazen encounter isn’t unheard-of, but it’s not usual, either. Fellow volunteer Michele, who was already on the walkway with the pheasant when I arrived, says her shins have been wing-slapped by a Victoria crowned pigeon who sometimes frequents the path. (Michele says the pigeon targets the khaki pants worn by most staffers and volunteers.) When a small flotilla of moms and strollers arrived, Michele helped them form a line to one side of the pheasant, and the moms discouraged their toddlers from actually touching the bird, although they wanted to. Eventually, Mr. Argus fluttered up to perch on a railing and show off his plumage some more.
The pheasant convinced me to linger on the path and peer deeper into the dark recesses of foliage on either side. It was an extremely dark and gloomy day, but splashes of color and life dotted the branches.
This nesting Nicobar pigeon seemed oblivious to the commotion just a few feet from her perch; nothing was going to startle or dislodge her. Nearby, black-naped orioles, with their bright yellow coloring, fluttered within easy sight of the walkway. Looking them up online, I realized that their tropical Asian range includes the Nicobar Islands (Great and Little Nicobar), northeast of Malaysia and south of India. So they’re close to the pigeons in the wild, as well.
No bird-feet were strolling the walkway when I passed through yesterday, but the Nicobar pigeons were more active, and one took the pheasant’s previous spot on the railing:
I’d been looking hard for a fairy bluebird the previous week, and yesterday I managed to capture one in my lens during the 90-second window he gave me. I didn’t see another oriole, though. Sustained birdwatching requires more patience than I possess, but even a little bit of lingering can pay off.
Hedgehogs, snakes & gender
10 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment
in Minnesota Lodge: Animal encounters Tags: hedgehogs, snakes
Last week, I demo’d an African hedgehog; this week, a bullsnake. These hands-on encounters last no more than 15 minutes, to avoid stressing the animal. Not every creature gets touched, and not every creature reacts when you touch it. This varies not just from species to species, but also from individual to individual. The three African hedgehogs I’ve handled vary widely in sensitivity: Tulip, a girl, starts pooping after the first five minutes; Aspen, also female, is more mellow but curls up into a ball of spikes when lifted — a standard protective measure for the species. Then there’s this character:
We were told he’s male, though he doesn’t have a name yet. Both my demo partner and I picked him up last week and got this wonderfully nonchalant yoga-pose response. Everyone wants to touch a fuzzy-looking hedgehog when they see it, but the one time my bare finger grazed one by accident, I bled a little. Don’t confuse it with a baby porcupine, though! These guys are native to Africa and southern Europe, where they hibernate at temperatures below 45F. What we know as Groundhog Day started in Europe as Hedgehog Day. I don’t know if Nameless is less sensitive because he’s male; my sample size here is too small, and I dislike gender stereotypes in any species. But last week’s demo revelation led me in a similar direction: William, always the calmer of our two bullsnakes, has turned out to be Willa.
The revelation, according to Zoomobile staffer Chris, came a couple of weeks ago when “William,” now 4 years old and nearly 5 feet long, laid 20 eggs. S/he had always been labeled “gender unknown” — for that matter, so is Draco, our more wiggly and challenging bullsnake. Draco, like Willa, could still join the ranks of regendered reptiles in my world, including fellow volunteer Darlene’s male box turtle, Sally, and Roger the alligator — the real-life female that got loose in Minnesota and found a zoo home this week, not the animated movie character from “Madagascar.” In the meantime, I’ll keep trying not to anthropomorphize the animals. It’s hard to say whether I’ll succeed at this, of course.
Weekend update, with zookeepers
20 Nov 2011 1 Comment
in Northern Trail, Penguins of the African Coast Tags: penguins, tigers
A couple of years had passed since my last all-day volunteer update at the zoo, a situation remedied Saturday. Seventy volunteers emerged at 4 p.m. from the new blue Ocean Classroom into a suddenly snowy wonderland, our minds packed with a fresh arsenal of animal facts shared by a series of funny, articulate zookeepers. I’ll share as many fun facts as I can in the weeks ahead. But one revelation seemed especially time-sensitive: The Detroit Boys are splitting up.
Here are brothers Molniy and Vaska, previously of Detroit, in warmer times. It seems Vaska soon will be heading to Glen Oak Zoo in Peoria, Ill., to make way for two new female tigers. Elderly male tiger Sergei will be matched up with Anya, our young but procreation-challenged tiger, for companionship and optional cubs. Molniy will presumably get his pick of the new girls. My husband, who took some Russian classes in college and had tiger-stripe handlebars on a boyhood bike, claims Molniy is his favorite of the pair because “Molniya” means “lightning bolt.” I can’t always tell them apart, but this exceptionally handsome fellow snoozing below is one of them, as seen by me about a year ago. (And yes, there’s a window between us.)
Speaking of windows, the Ocean Classroom, a new addition last summer, was a charming but distracting place to learn about the Detroit Boys and everything else that’s new at the zoo. The new blue room, also used for children’s classes and certain meetings, sits across from the volunteer lounge in a corridor behind the penguin exhibit, also new last summer. The room’s curved penguin-viewing window offered an almost-continuous view of one to five birds as they slipped away from the public viewing area to see what all the talking and laughing and PowerPoint slides were about. I scored a seat with two other Thursday volunteers within 20 feet of the window. This nonThursday volunteer was one of several to approach during break time and beckon the birds.
Various penguins came and went from their Ocean Classroom mini-exhibit, swimming through this narrow passageway to rejoin the larger gang visible to zoo guests. We have about 30 penguins in all, including the dozen from Minot, N.D., who are camping out here while their flooded facility is repaired. Jimmy Pichner, the zoo’s always-entertaining bird guru, says the Minot birds might be with us for as long as a year, and that their keepers can usually tell one bird from another by their color pattern and personality. Of the birds who swam to our window, I noticed that one seemed a little hyperactive, while another pair seemed extremely interested in the series of zookeeper presentations.
Doesn’t this look like an impressionist’s painting of a penguin? (That’s what I keep telling myself as I figure out how to adapt my camera settings to the reflected light and constant movement swirling within this exhibit.) This is the penguin most fascinated by the zookeepers. Each time a new staffer’s voice came through the microphone and the lights went down so we could see the slides, this penguin came to a floating, bobbing halt, beak pointed toward the presenter. Sometimes his mate joined his side and gazed into the classroom, too. For the penguins’ sake as well as my own, I was relieved that the window’s curtain wasn’t drawn — a measure that can be taken, I suppose, when children in the classroom need to focus on the teacher. Yesterday, the zookeepers had some stiff competition for volunteers’ attention. Fortunately, though not quite as cute as the penguins, the keepers were even more interesting.
