Other philosophies, such as those of New York Zoological Park director William Hornaday, may have influenced some industry priorities on the merits of breeding animals for exhibition. For many, replacing animals was less complex than reliably propagating them. In a vision that is a far cry from today’s prestigious New York Zoological Park, he wrote in his annual report for 1920: “The first, the last and the greatest business of every zoological park is to collect and exhibit fine and rare animals. Next comes the duty of enabling the greatest possible number of people to see them with comfort and satisfaction. In comparison with these objects, all others are of secondary or tertiary or quaternary importance. The breeding of wild animals is extremely interesting, and their systematic study is fascinating, but both these ends must be subordinated to the main objects.”
At the national level in the United States, some leaders of major public institutions are still not attuned to the logical roles of zoos as educational and research organizations. In 2001, for example, the new head of the Smithsonian Institution, the first nonscientist ever to hold that post, ordered the closure of its Conservation Research Center (CRC) in Front Royal, Virginia. This wildlife breeding and conservation research unit is directly affiliated with the National Zoo in Washington, DC, a unit of the Smithsonian. Its proposed elimination was justified by his interests in freeing up budget resources for making aesthetic improvements to public exhibits in several Smithsonian museums. Insiders, however, believe that this short-sighted proposal was symptomatic of a more fundamental philosophical agenda that resents pro-environmental activities ranging from studies of acid rain, nuclear power, and endangered species to the opposition to oil drilling in wilderness regions. While the underlying credibility of organizations such as the Smithsonian is based largely upon their research and preservation programs, the new director became viewed as considering animal conservation research to be both vague and expendable. Fortunately, a national outcry from scientists, museum directors, conservation organizations, and congresspersons reversed this decision, and this program barely survived—so far.
No consensus exists as to what the priorities of a zoo or aquarium should be. Are they principally for entertainment, education, or conservation? For that matter, the motivations of our culture for conservation initiatives in general are fraught with contradictions, as demonstrated by the following case: There is a proposal currently in the works for a large project to salvage southern California’s Salton Sea. This large, salty, unnatural body of water was formed around the turn of the last century in the desert region between San Diego and Arizona, when the Colorado River overflowed its banks and those of off-branching irrigation canals, filling up a huge desert basin over a four-year period. Since then, the salinity of the sea has gradually risen to the point of becoming marginally habitable for introduced saltwater fishes. The causes of its hypersalinization include evaporative losses, as well as chronic salty water runoff from extensive agricultural irrigation in the region. The inflow from one of the world’s most polluted rivers from across the border in Mexico, the American River (no less), is compounding the problem. While hailed as a major resource for waterfowl, the Salton Sea has also become a death trap for many migratory birds because of botulism and red tide, related to deteriorating water quality.
Current plans for the Salton Sea, originally championed by the late Rep. Sonny Bono, involve a proposal to spend more than $400 million to construct a series of dikes that would move water to evaporation impoundments in order to desalinate it. $400 million could establish and maintain dozens of national parks in critical wildlife habitats throughout the developing world. I’m not entirely (but mostly) against the Salton Sea restoration project, but this clearly illustrates the chaotic manner in which society allocates resources for conservation. We spend a fortune on an unnatural attraction while real wonders perish. Perhaps this inconsistency was best articulated by zoo critic Dr. Dale Jamieson, a philosophy professor at Colorado State University, who attributes misplaced conservation salvage priorities to “the peculiar moral schizophrenia of a culture that drives a species to the edge of extinction, and then romanticizes the remnants.”
The existence of zoos probably cannot be justified and supported without some customized mix of entertainment, education, and conservation. This is reflected in the ongoing push and pull between conservationists and administrators within the zoo and aquarium profession. Administrative financial pragmatists are put off by fiscally vague, idealistic conservation and breeding programs, whereas conservationists are troubled by the pragmatists’ lack of passion and purpose for being in this line of endeavor. Even when lists of mutual criteria may be acceptable in principle to all of those in leadership positions in zoos, disagreements often follow about the priorities of where the efforts and resources should be allocated. This confusion has occurred, to a large degree, because of the historical lack of consensus among zoo professionals and imprecise local goals of individual institutions. It is further exacerbated by the commonplace shortfalls of sufficient resources, both human and financial.
Zoos take root in many different soils, with disparate perceptions and locally biased priorities. Zoological gardens have been extraordinarily difficult for local politicians to fathom, engendering a consensus void that frequently leads to inadequate insight and to inertia in many local decision-making circles. Zoos have an aura, an arcane mystique, and a proprietary intangibility that make them different from the other assets that community leaders and administrators typically manage. In frustration, politicians may be skeptical of proposals, interfere in operational matters, and be confounded by what seems to be more complex and expensive undertakings than they had imagined or planned for.
The evolution of zoos has required the acquisition of both knowledge and experience, not only in caring for and exhibiting animals but also in the wherewithal to fund these undertakings. It has mandated the coevolution of zoo directors, veterinarians, curators, and animal keepers through their respective professional organizations. It has also required creativity in recruiting public and private benefactors to support their programs.
Some zoos and aquariums use animal-training exercises as substitutes for overt entertainment shows in order to attract visitors, and to a lesser degree some have become stationary circuses. Petting zoos, pony, elephant and camel rides, and shows involving birds of prey, seals, and talking parrots, still widespread in zoos, are gauged to fill the gap in the range of visitor tastes and create a synthetic bridge between captive animals and humans.
Fortunately, most of the crassest examples of ball-balancing bears and motorcycle-riding primates have now been abandoned. The San Diego Zoo had its own flair for flamboyant publicity in its formative years, including such antics as painting elephants for parades and public demonstrations of how the zoo’s young apes had been taught table etiquette. Contemporary animal zoo and aquarium performances are couched in terms of necessary training (for example, of elephants and killer whales) or as education demonstrations, often using rehabilitated or rescued wildlife. The utility of training for animals must not be readily dismissed, however, since this cultivates important cooperative skills that can benefit their medical care. The modern-day versions of trained-animal shows use terms such as “natural behaviors,” playing down the Big Top themes in a sort of greening of circus acts. For examples of old animal shows in zoos, one need only peruse the vintage postcards on ebay.com to get a flavor of yesteryear’s animal performances. Historically, the St. Louis Zoo wins hands-down as the most prolific producer of lion, chimpanzee and monkey shows.
Even Disneyland, which seldom features live animal displays, has been affected by public sentiments and pressures that are changing the way that society relates to animals. After ongoing criticism of Disneyland’s well-known Adventureland Jungle Cruise boat ride by animal advocates, the safari-clad guides were disarmed and instructed to stop shooting blank pistols at the mechanical hippos when they suddenly reared out of the water and threatened passi
ng boats. A kinder and gentler pseudosafari came to the cruise, just as East African photo safaris replaced shooting safaris. This armistice closely coincided with the 1998 opening of Disney’s new Animal Kingdom attraction in Florida, perhaps because of the perceived contradiction of the corporate preservation of animals in one venue, and the practice of shooting at them in another. In reporting this change, the Los Angeles Times quoted Jamie O’Boyle, a Philadelphia-based cultural analyst and Disney consultant, who explained: “New generations grow up with new ideas. This is the way society evolves its norms, and Disney has to reflect that.”
When the first giant pandas came to the San Diego Zoo from China for temporary exhibition in 1987, elaborate preparations had been made to accommodate the animals and the crush of visitors expected to view them. The efforts to secure a panda loan began more than six years earlier, when I accompanied a group of zoo trustees and curators on a friendship mission to Chinese zoos, not long after the country opened up to outside visitors. Pandas were obviously on the top of the list for potential loans and acquisitions. While pandas have always been rare outside of China, we attended an entertainment event at an opera house in Beijing that included a trained panda dressed in colorful costume, along with other acrobatic performers. Panda life in the Chinese zoos that we toured was threadbare by contrast with the plush new accommodations that would be built in San Diego. While the financial requirements for the panda loan were staggering, the revenues from the increased attendance handily offset the expense.
Robotic hippos threaten the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland
A rather shocking surprise developed when the Chinese entourage arrived at the zoo with the pandas and began unloading various circus props—a large toy airplane, candy-cane colored logs, a panda tricycle, and other paraphernalia that were in gaudy contrast to the intentions of their new conservation-themed exhibit. While pandas were still used in traveling performances at home in China, these individuals were two of only four animals in the entire United States at the time. Subsequent panda exhibits in San Diego have shed the circus throwback themes as the status of pandas in China has shifted to an emphasis on their conservation as a unique element of China’s national heritage.
Exhibiting family or social groups of animals rather than isolated individuals, is the accepted and desired norm in today’s zoos, although there still is no precise methodology to assess the well-being of zoo animals. Paradoxically, this sometimes conflicts with the natural solitariness of some species, which come together only seasonally for breeding and baby rearing. Family groupings display more natural social behaviors and fewer stereotyped behavioral pathologies that can be a function of captivity. Emphasis is commonly placed on environmental enrichment of animals’ living areas, with more comfortable resting spots, opportunities to retreat from the public and exhibit-mates, innovative feeding routines, and varied enclosure furnishings. Overall, exhibits are transforming from hard concrete surfaces to multidimensional mini-habitats—at least that is what is being attempted.
The San Diego Wild Animal Park is perhaps best known as an innovator of wide open spaces for captive wildlife. Opening in 1972, it improved significantly on the drive-through lion safari park and initiated programs to sustain their animal populations. Launched with both public funds and a steady infusion of cash from its operator, the Zoological Society of San Diego, the park set a new standard that was strikingly unique at the time but is now emulated in many ways by other zoological facilities. Captive breeding of rare and endangered species became the theme of the park, rather than a behind-the-scenes activity. Its major attractions, aside from entertainment shows, include spacious mixed-species exhibits, comfortable transportation to gain proximity to the animals, and extensive horticultural embellishments.
For some zoos, which have been through their nadirs of public approval and miscellaneous animal fiascos, reinvention of their programs and facilities has turned them around for the better. Often, however, it does not become apparent that things are as bad as they really are (to politicians anyway) until an exposé finally drives the problem to the front page of the local newspaper. In some cases nothing changes until zoo regulators, such as the US Department of Agriculture, impose sanctions or threaten to suspend their federal exhibitor registration. Another constructive pressure that has caused change in the living conditions for animals over the past twenty years is the accreditation process of the American Zoo and Aquarium Association. The failure to achieve or maintain this status has been the threshold event that has caused some municipalities to act to improve or close their zoological gardens.
Many of the problems in zoos arise not simply from the ignorance of zoo management, but from municipal foot-dragging in failing to provide realistic budgetary allocations. Some of the uncomplimentary zoo headlines around the country have read:
City Audit Stomps on Zoo
Zoo Loses Accreditation
Director Confirms Animal Sales to Shooting Ranch
Zoo Crumbles—Deferred Repairs Taking Toll
USDA Cites Inadequate Animal Care—Threatens to Shut Zoo
Third Zoo Director Leaves—Who’s in Charge?
Keepers Accuse City of Neglect
While zoo public-relations people try to keep much of the news on the lighter, more upbeat side, no one can ultimately control the press. Not all animal headlines, however, are as accusatory as those above and add some needed levity:
Elephant Dung Made Into Electricity
The Bear Who Wrestled James Bond Dies at 25
Beavers Chew Way to Top of Pest List
Girl’s Nightmares After Seeing Horses’ Heads Fed to Tigers
The opening question to this chapter was, “Is it humane to keep animals in captivity in zoos?” In my mind, the answer to this question is complex and conditional. Intentions aside, for me it comes down to the fundamental perception of whether confinement constructively communicates our compassion for our fellow animal species, or simply displays our ability to control them on our terms. Animals that are poorly kept, insensitively displayed, and ineptly managed undermine all justifications for a zoo’s existence.
Many roadside zoos have been closed down as a result of the federal Animal Welfare Act for failing to meet the most basic requirements for humane animal care. These tacky little throwbacks to early zookeeping are a lingering embarrassment to legitimate zoos and a continuing source of misunderstanding and confused identity with the zoogoing public. The concerns about the pejorative “roadside zoo” have reached such a level of concern that the American Zoo and Aquarium Association recently appointed a task force to deal with the dilemma caused by its trashy shirttail relatives. A few animal rights groups, however, take generous license in blurring the distinctions between well-operated facilities and these outcasts. Affirming this sleazy stereotype, some years ago Roadside Zoo was even adopted as the name of a rowdy roadhouse drinking spot for a while.
Some privately kept exotic animals live lives that exceed what many zoos can provide for their animals. One of the best-maintained groups of big cats in the United States probably does not live in a zoo at all but belongs to Siegfried & Roy, the popular Las Vegas performers, who feature white tigers disappearing in incredible illusions at Steve Wynn’s Mirage Hotel casino. The care of these performing animals—their housing, feeding, and socialization—are unsurpassed in any zoo I have visited. On the several occasions that I have assisted in tending to medical problems in this animal entourage, I was impressed with their living quarters, exercise areas, and swimming pools in their large, landscaped compound at the Siegfried & Roy residence in a Las Vegas suburb. In particular, I was awed by the daily commitment of time, energy, and money that the performers themselves (not just assistants) invest in the well-being of their animals. The human contact and performance lives of these animals seem not to have interfered with their sense of well-being, and the birth of many white tiger babies seems to bear this out. Is this extraordinary display of live tigers in a hotel casino inapprop
riate? Given the care that they receive, I think not; if placed on other hands, probably so. Siegfried & Roy are not pretending to be conservationists per se, but the beauty that people see in these animals can only build the public’s esteem for the world’s tiger species. Sadly, the future for this show is in serious doubt with the serious injuries suffered by Roy Horn when he was attacked by a white tiger during a performance in the fall of 2003.
While many are reluctant to credit them publicly, animal welfare organizations, overall, have made significant contributions to the improvement of animal care in zoos and in the lives of laboratory animals used in biomedical research. Unfortunately, because of some of the outrageous excesses of the extremist elements of some animal activist groups, a middle ground for both zoos and some animal welfarists has been only marginally attainable. When it was suggested to one zoo trustee that a dialogue should be sought with animal advocate groups, his automatic response was an old military adage: “Never retreat when you are under fire!” My only reply to this ossified view was: “That’s exactly what General Custer thought, and look what happened to him.” Moderate forces for animal welfare deserve, and generally have, the respect of the zoo profession. Radical forces will write their own historical epitaphs.
The animal welfare movement in the United Kingdom has a longer, more contentious, history than in the United States. As a measure of the public’s strong disapproval of marginal zoos, the London Zoo, founded in 1828, was nearly closed in 1992. Faced with growing criticisms of its outdated facilities in lacking sound financial counsel, it almost shut its doors for good. Saviors stepped in at the last moment to rescue the zoo from extinction. An earlier example of a distressed zoo was the Los Angeles Zoo, which had a spotty record since its creation in 1913. Many years later a new zoo came about through an $8 million bond, following brutal criticism by civic groups, city council members and other detractors. In the early 1960s the Los Angeles Daily News called the zoo an “inadequate, ugly, poorly designed, and under-financed collection of beat-up cages.” The groundbreaking for the construction of the new Greater Los Angeles Zoo took place in the fall of 1964. It rained that day. Still struggling to reinvent itself in 2001, the zoo opened a $13 million Animal Health and Conservation Center, and the zoo is gradually undergoing another generation of transformations.
Life at the Zoo Page 28